Chapter 42
He closed in, water between them churning from movement and tension.
“You have no idea how much I like it.”
But God, I wish she did.
Wish she knew the kind of thoughts I’ve had since the second I laid eyes on her.
Wish she knew how fucking feral it makes me feel watching her run, laugh, fight back…
How bad I’m going to ruin her for every man who thinks they can keep up.
Then, softly–almost sweet:
“But you’re gonna learn.”
She stilled, eyes narrowing as her back hit the far wall of the pool. Trapped.
Except she didn’t look scared. She looked delighted. Challenged.
Of course she did. My little mayhem magnet doesn’t fear the devil–she invites him in and teaches him how to misbehave.
He reached out, one hand landing just beside her head, the other settling on her waist underwater. Her breath hitched.
“You think you’re safe just because we’re in water?”
His voice dropped to a dark hum.
“You’re not. You never are. Not with me.”
She bit her lip–and smirked.
“I was counting on that.”
Lola
His body caged hers against the edge of the pool, the heat of him rolling off in waves
despite the water clinging to his skin. She was trapped–barely afloat–her arms zip–tied tight in front of her, so she looped them around his neck like the world’s worst flotation device.
Which, to be fair, he kind of was.
“You shouldn’t be allowed to look at me like that,” she whispered, breathless. Her thighs squeezed instinctively around his hips just to keep from sinking.
Don’t look down. Don’t look hungry. Don’t look like prey.
Enzo’s eyes darkened. “Then stop looking so fucking good when you’re asking for it.”
Oh.
Well, okay then.
1/3
Chapter 42
His mouth crashed against hers, brutal and hot, all tongue and teeth and claiming. Water lapped around them, but it felt like drowning in fire. Her back hit the concrete wall as he pressed in–shoulders like anchors, thighs like prison bars. She was caged. Contained.
This is a bad idea. A reckless, idiotic, end–of–the–world kind of idea.
So why the fuck does it feel like the only thing that’s ever made sense?
His.
And god, she wanted to be.
“Let me hear you,” he growled into her mouth, biting her bottom lip before dragging it out with a sinful slowness that made her toes curl. “Let every one of those boys inside know who you belong to.”
Claim me, then. Fucking claim me.
“I’ll scream your name so loud your enemies will come running,” she panted, rolling her hips against the hard length pressed between them. “But I’m still not apologizing for the mustache.”
His grin was all teeth. Wicked. Unforgiving.
“You’re right,” he said, dipping just enough to press the head of his cock right between her folds. “You’re gonna earn that apology.”
Holy shit, I am so screwed.
He thrust upward in one slow, devastating motion–and Lola shattered.
Her cry echoed off the tile walls, shameless and sweet and fucking feral.
No one’s ever touched me like this. No one’s ever had the nerve.
God, I don’t want it to stop.
Her hands, bound in front of her, gripped the back of his neck like a lifeline. Water splashed around them. Her thighs locked tighter. He slammed in again, harder this time, and she felt herself rise off the ledge only to be slammed right back down onto him.
“I should hate you,” she gasped.
I should.
But I don’t. And that might be the most dangerous part.
“You do,” he rasped. “That’s why you feel so good around me.”
He bit down on her shoulder, just shy of breaking skin. Her nails dug into his neck. The water did nothing to cool them. He pounded into her like punishment, one arm locked around her lower back, the other braced beside her head. She couldn’t get away. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but let him take.
Fuck, fuck, fuck-
This isn’t soft. This isn’t safe. This is fury and hunger and need, and I want every second of it.
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