Touch in the Dark
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- Parts 7
[POV: Venezia Casadei]
"You really are something, huh," Auden said strolling over to me, a dangerous glint in his eye. The look on his face was one of hunger. I'd seen it before on the bloodthirsty faces of Made Men just before they'd shot someone in the head. It was the gaze of a man who was overcome with his sense of power. Of control. Of a man who knew he would get the answer he was looking for even if he had to tear you apart to get it.
"That something is Don Niccolò's daughter," I quipped back, challenging him to say something further. He thought I'd be afraid of the focus he pinned on me, but even if I couldn't shoot a man in the head, I'd grown up seeing that same bloodthirsty focus in my father's eyes; in the eyes of the mafioso around me.
I looked up and noticed that the top of my head only reached his chin. From that angle, his chiseled jawline was all I can focus on. Geez, how long did God spend crafting this one?
He smirked at my lack of fear. "Of course, princess. Who can forget? The Don's only daughter." He twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. "So pure her heart is almost as white as snow." It trailed a path down the side of my neck. "Almost." His hand shifted to collar my throat.
My lips parted when he lightly squeezed. I felt the pulse in my neck beat hard against his hand and my pvssy clenched at the thought of him fvcking me this way. I imagined his calloused hand wrapped around my throat and his chocolate-brown eyes watching me take his c0ck as he pushed into me.
"So pure that her pvssy is still tight from never knowing a man," he whispered the words into my ear and I felt my legs nearly give out.
I could cvm from his filthy words alone. But I'd never let him know that. I was too proud to admit such a thing.
"You think I don't hear you, but I do. So I'll ask you one more time, Songbird. When you fvck yourself with your fingers, whose name do you m0an out?"
//
Recommended for those 18 YEARS AND OLDER.
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Ever since she's been a child, Leila Rossetti's sole ambition has been to seize control of The Cosa Nostra and avenge the childhood she lost by the claws her father, The Don. When she inadvertently declares war on the Russians, who have long held a vice grip on the underground, her plans go right in the trash giving way to a far more dangerous threat. Yet the overconfidence of the Italian assassin is nothing more than a source of amusement to Nikolai Romanov, king of The Bratva. Known for his ruthlessness and absolute control over Russia, he views Leila's reckless move as merely an entertaining spectacle, like a predator who only toys with its prey before devouring it. So what happens when The Pakhan finally decides to strike his prey? ________________________ His thumb traced the sensitive skin of my wrist, a slow rhythm that felt like he was counting my heartbeats. Then he leaned in, his lips hovering near my ear, not touching, yet the heat was enough to sear. "You're so beautiful. Even when you lie to me." I rolled my eyes, tilting my head back against his shoulder just to show him I wasn't afraid of the proximity, even while my skin screamed at the contact. "And you're still an arrogant bastard who thinks he can keep a throne just by sitting on it." "I don't just sit on it, milaya. I bleed for it. And occasionally, I make sure others bleed a little more." The vibration of his throaty chuckle sent shivers down my spine. "Now, tell me another lie. I want to see if you can make your heart rate match your tongue."
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