Page 74 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

“You need to go faster,” Ophelia urges me, grabbing my hips, encouraging me to pick up the pace.

“I have all the time in the world when it comes to you, sweetheart.”

She catches my eyes, and we share an intense look. My inner consciousness tells me to run. This is getting far too out of hand. The connection I have with Ophelia is larger than sex, larger than the two of us combined. Our attraction is simply out of control, and no matter how many times that lost boy inside of me tells me to run, I’ll never listen.

You cannot fight the laws of physics.

I move my hips in circular motions, watching Ophelia’s eyes shut. She exhales sweetly, getting ready to orgasm. Her lower lip always trembles when she’s close.

I suck her lip into my mouth, dominating her mouth with my tongue as I move over her. Her walls clench around my length, and suddenly she’s screaming my name at the very top of her lungs, clawing my shoulders like a rabid animal.

I increase the pace, driving home, and spill deep inside of her.

I lie on my back afterward, and we stare at the ceiling in silence. But I’m not quite satisfied yet. There’s a fire burning in my soul, and it won’t stop burning until the new Crow leader is dead.

And if that person is Ophelia’s father, so be it. I will shove my knife into his heart, seeking justice for Ophelia, because he’s the reason she’s so broken.

23

OPHELIA

Sun streams through the window the following morning. I wink open an eye, seeing Salvatore sleeping beside me.

I did exactly what I told myself I could never do…

I fell asleep in my boss’s arms. And now I’m on track to falling hopelessly in love.

I sit up in bed, watching sunlight spill over the city. It lands on Salvatore’s back. He sleeps face down, arms crossed over the pillow.

I take this opportunity to admire his back and all the muscles. Scars line his skin, along with many other tattoos, these ones not as faded as the crow.

I trail my finger over each of them, paying close attention to the MORETTI tattoo marked across his skin in bold, black capital letters.

There’s a knife tattoo on his arm, a snake wrapped around the blade. The word ‘INVINCIBLE’ is carved at the bottom.

“That tickles,” grumbles Salvatore, rousing from sleep.

“Why do you have so many tattoos?”

“Decoration.”

I prefer his face like this when he has just woken up. It’s less billionaire, more human, and the more layers I peel back, the more I feel myself falling.

Salvatore consults his watch on the bedside. “Fuck,” he grumbles, his voice scratching against his throat. “My men are coming over in ten.”

“Your men?”

“Mafia meeting.”

Terrific.

“I need you to take notes,” Salvatore says, rising from the bed, completely fucking naked.

Sure… I can take notes… of how incredible last night was.

“Ophelia,” he says, urging me out of bed. “Get dressed.”

“It’s Phee.”