Twisted Roses

Page 7

I swallow and force a fresh breath into my lungs. “You need to leave.”
“I told you I’d leave when I’ve said my peace.”
“Time has run out. Time to go.”
He doesn’t move. Another moment passes where we stare at each other and let the tension thicken between us. Neither one of us is willing to back down, but what else is new? It’ll always be the same.
An urge rises up in me to toy with my rose pendant—my most precious possession that once belonged to my grandmother and was gifted to her by my grandfather. Months ago when I was raped, my attacker stole it from around my neck. Salvatore vowed to get it back, and he found a way. He always does.
I resist the urge, keeping my arms pinned to my sides. My fingers curl into balled fists.
“Salvatore,” I say as firmly as I can manage. “If you’re not going to leave... then hurry up. Make your fucking move. I don’t have all night.”
Humor flickers in his blue-green-eyed gaze. “Always so whiny when you want to be fucked.”
Salvatore closes the gap between us, silencing any further conversation with his mouth on mine. I’m pressed into the kitchen counter as he grabs my face and tips it up to meet his lips. I arch against it and rise into him—I’m telling him to give me more. Kiss me harder. Grab me and grope me and fuck me right now.
Give me what I crave.
This isn’t the first night he’s turned up in my apartment. This isn’t the first time we’ve relapsed.
Bad habits are bad for a reason—and Salvatore’s always been the baddest of them all.
We kiss with the breathless sound of air leaving our lungs. It’s desperate and rushed, like we’re so overwhelmed by our craving we’ve forgotten how to breathe.
His mouth is on my throat and his hands are on my hips, shoving down my leggings. I’m shimmying in place, helping him push them past my thighs. We attack his belt and pants together.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I mutter as I reach into his pants and pull out his dick.
He tears a condom open—a stipulation I’ve insisted on since these late night visits began—and he says the most Salvatore thing he can possibly say in a moment like this.
“It doesn’t make you any less mine.”
“I’m not yours. I never will be. I won’t ever love you to be yours.”
“Good thing you don’t need to love me to fuck me. Turn around.”
Salvatore grips my shoulder and spins me around so that my stomach pushes into the kitchen counter. He thrusts into me, wasting no time. He saves no moment for adjusting. No pause to savor how good it feels to be inside me. For us to attune to each other and be affectionate.
These moments between us aren’t about that. They’re about ridding our bodies of an impulsive urge we can’t seem to control.
He pounds away, his pace fast and unrelenting. I plant my hands on the counter and close my eyes, tuning out of the circumstances of the moment. Pretending I’m not surrendering to him—not in the way that he wants. I meant what I said. I’ll never be his. I’ll never love him. We’ll never be together again.
We’re wrong for each other in every sense of the word.
Instead, I focus on the pleasure he inflicts on me. The pulse building throughout my body that makes me feel like I’m chasing an impossible high. Yet I continue, I keep searching for the elusive release that will have me shuddering and convulsing as I let go and fall to pieces.
Salvatore’s dick hits me at such an angle, I’m already losing it. So deep and so thick, he fills me up until I can do nothing but claw at the counter and moan.
The sound’s wanton and lust-driven, as obscene as the slapping noise of his hips crashing against my ass again and again.
But it’s still not enough for Salvatore—he grabs hold of my upper arms and drags me away from the counter, holding me against him as he slams into me. His lips are on my neck and then on my jaw, his kisses hot and possessive.
I’m his even when I don’t want to be. That’s what he’s telling me.
As his fat dick drills deeper into me, it’s what he’s doing. He’s establishing dominance. Staking his claim.
“No other man can fuck you like I fuck you, Phi,” he growls into my ear, his voice husky and breathless. He licks at the shell and then pumps into me even harder. “You know it’s true—only I can have you trembling in a puddle of your own cum by the time I’m through with you.”