Page 87 of Wicked Villain

Ihead downstairs, my fucking dick harder than ever.

The image of my wife writhing against my mouth, with her gorgeous breasts bouncing as I ate her out, is not something a man is likely to forget. Not even me, with all my years of experience with women.

This one—my innocent little wife, who’s supposed to be a tool in my grand revenge scheme—turned out to be the one that finally pulled a solid reaction out of me.

The taste of her…

Fuck, it’s given me a craving. An appetite that’s stronger than any addiction.

How the fuck did I walk away from her?

I had her right where I wanted her. She’d surrendered, was willing to give herself to me, was willing to hand over that piece of herself she can’t give anyone else, but I didn’t go further because I’m enraged.

Corrado. That miserable son of a bitch. He’s fucking pissed me off again.

Those scars on Gabrielle’s back are all his fault.

I could tell she’d had treatment, but the faint remnants of a burn and whip marks were still there. Far too many of them.

Another person may not have been able to figure it out. In some places, her back was completely smooth. But I could see the pain beneath, and I knew what she must have gone through.

In our world, if you’re not killed, punishment like that isn’t random. It’s personal. Her kidnappers punished Corrado through her. Even if she did something wrong, every strike they gave her was meant for her father.

She was only sixteen.

And on top of that, her sister died.

You don’t come back from darkness like that unchanged.

I watched the people I love get massacred. That fucked me up and killed anything that resembled humanity in me. Torture is different. It’s designed to break you down and make sure you never forget you’re helpless.

I wanted nothing more than to take her and claim her, but I couldn’t do it thinking about her father and all the ways I want to kill him.

I crack my knuckles at the thought of it. Watching Corrado D’Auria bleed out would give me the greatest pleasure. Every fucking day I allow that man to live aggravates me.

That miserable bastard is always messing with the wrong people and lacks the basic morals that every man in the underworld values.

Values like family.

Corrado only cares about himself and how much power and wealth he can gain.

The men who took his daughters would have been fuckers like me.

Corrado has a lot to answer for. And I’ll see to it that he does.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and make my way to one of the guest bedrooms. This will have to do for tonight.

As soon as I plant myself on the bed and gaze up at the ceiling, my wife comes back to my mind.

I may have had her right where I wanted her, but she had me, too.

The next night, I meet Aleksandr at Morty’s Bar, one of our local hangouts.

Cassian and the others set off to Morocco a few days ago. Since then, we’ve been investigating with Kieran, trying to locate the hacker working for Moretti.

Aleksandr summoned me here, so I’m hoping he has some more intel.

I get seated in the booth at the back while he grabs our beers at the bar.