Chapter Eleven

Serafino

I 'd never been so furious , so close to losing my mind. Didn't Delilah understand my emotional state? Of course she didn't. She used men like me for our money, then she moved on, forgetting we even existed.

I was like a rabid wolf by the time the car pulled under the carpark. I only just managed to keep myself together as I climbed out and stabbed the elevator's button, then stepped inside it with Delilah reluctantly trailing behind.

Not that I blamed her. I mightn't be snapping and snarling, but I was close to it. I wanted to assert my dominance and force her to forget all the other men she'd had in her life as my alpha side brought her to heel.

At the back of my mind I knew I was losing it, a green eyed monster sending out its tendrils and crippling my iron will.

Whatever . I was burning with lust and fury by the time we stepped out of the elevator and into my penthouse, my dick throbbing just like my voice when I said, "You know where the balcony is."

She narrowed her eyes, her rebellion just barely tempered by a lust that was as unruly as my own. "We're doing this now, while you're...angry?"

"The balcony," I repeated starkly.

She nodded mutely, submitting to my demand as she strode toward the balcony, tossing her white clutch bag onto the kitchen counter on the way past. Not that she had a choice but to obey. I'd paid through the nose to fuck her when and where I wanted for the night.

There was still intense chemistry between us, even as there was also something not quite right, something a little off-kilter. But I was too far gone to stop and think too deeply about it. Rage, lust and jealousy were a toxic combination, and I trod a fine line that took me ever closer to the point of no return.

She's going to hate you forever, a little voice taunted.

She doesn't hate me already? I taunted back.

Chemistry was one thing, values and beliefs were another thing entirely. She might be attracted—for now—to my darker way of life, but soon enough she'd hate me for my mafia role, despise me for my bloodied hands and my even bloodier soul.

I pushed the button near the bifold doors. As the bullet proof glass rolled up, she turned to face me, her eyes glinting in the blackness broken by a backdrop of flashing neon lights. "Is this really what you want?" she asked, her breath shuddering.

"You wouldn't be here with me now if it wasn't," I said, my voice as hard as my dick. "Turn around," I instructed. She did as I asked, and I added, "Take off your clothes and lean against the glass."

She only paused for a second at most before she did what I asked. I gained a certain, sick satisfaction from that even knowing I would have enjoyed tearing her dress and underwear off. Then my heart thudded like a drum in my ears as I stared at her pert ass and the long, toned length of her back, her rigid shoulders and small waist.

No one could see her, but I imagined the visual if they could with her tits mashed up against the glass, her pussy flattened against it and her breaths puffing little clouds.

I ran a hand down her spine, her shiver leaving goose bumps in its wake. It was my one moment of softness before lust took over. I reached between her legs and pinched her clit. She jerked and gasped, and I rubbed away the sting, not relenting until she cried out and succumbed to orgasm, her liquid heat scenting the air like ambrosia.

My nostrils flared as I inhaled, my dick thickening like a steel pike.

I was going through the motions, my actions reflexive and more than a little mechanical. Nothing like the emotional connection we'd previously shared. Good . I couldn't afford to let my guard down. She'd gotten under my skin enough already.

I unzipped my fly and released my dick—I must have known to go commando—then one-handing it, I directed it from behind to the entrance of her sweet pussy. With a massive thrust, I surged inside her, ruthlessly filling her.

Her breath hissed, her inner muscles locking around me, an oversized invader. But I couldn't stop now. I wanted to claim her, possess her. My fingers dug into her hips. I wanted to brand her, to mark her.

I began to thrust, going deeper and harder within seconds. But if I hurt her she wasn't complaining. I grimaced, even as pleasure pierced through me. She was paid to be the consummate actress when it came to sex. Even if she didn't enjoy it she'd pretend she did.

My strokes grew harder, more vicious, my need to hurt her before she hurt me a knee-jerk reaction I could no longer control. I was an animal, a monster who—

She screamed out something garbled and foreign, her orgasm that clenched and released her inner muscles taking me by complete surprise. I didn't have the strength to resist my own release. My balls lifted and my seed shot out of me in streaks of fire that took away my breath, my sanity.

I shuddered against her, my breathing ragged and my skin soaked with sweat, despite the tepid nighttime temperature. That she was breathing just as heavily, her skin warm and damp as I slumped against her, made me realize she'd been as physically affected as I'd been.

I had no way of knowing if she'd been as mentally and emotionally affected as I had. It hadn't just been my seed that had drained out of me. I was depleted and exhausted, a primal and instinctive need to keep Delilah as my own threatening to upend me.

I didn't do relationships. I didn't even like the idea of a woman having a speck of control over me. But the intimacy we shared was only making my needs and wants more powerful. She'd soon have me wrapped around her little finger.

I jerked away from her, disconnecting almost painfully. That I only wanted to become as one with her again was a weakness I intended to rectify. I needed to strengthen my resolve, make her believe she meant nothing to me.

Coward, a snide voice mocked.

"I needed that," I said in a neutral voice. She stiffened, but didn't look back at me. I reached out a reassuring hand, then dropped my arm to my side and said, "Let's take a shower."