56

56
Brinda

My eyes trailed over his left bicep — The scorpion tattoo looked darker, more defined, almost hypnotic. 

My gaze drifted lower, tracing the hard ridges of his stomach. Every muscle flexed as he moved, commanding attention.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

Should I be doing this?

No.

But as things stand, I have no choice but to succumb to Francesco’s desires.

Or… Am I succumbing to my own?

No. 

I have no such desires. 

This is just a distraction — Something to pass the time while I plot my next escape.

But, why does my body feel like it’s betraying me?

Francesco moved toward the bed, his steps unhurried, and deliberate. He sank to his knees before me, his dark gaze never leaving mine. My heart pounded — fast and erratic — like a drum signaling my impending doom.

The look in his eyes from earlier, the one filled with cold, deadly rage, was gone. Something new had replaced it.

Love?

No. 

He doesn’t love me.

He calls it obsession.

His hand closed around my ankle, his fingers cold against my heated skin. The touch sent a ripple of something wicked through me — intoxicating, soothing, and terrifying.

Then… a sharp pain.

I gasped, jerking slightly as his teeth sank into my toe. My breath hitched, and I shoved my hair back, staring at him in disbelief.

“Stop that. My toes are dirty. I haven’t had my bath yet,” I said, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be.

He didn’t let go. 

His grip tightened, his thumb stroking my skin as he lifted my foot higher. His lips brushed over my ankle, then my calf, his breath hot, teasing.

“Who cares?” His voice was low, even, but possessive. “In death, sickness, life, happiness, sorrow… I just want to keep you by my side.”

The weight of his words coiled around me like a chain I wasn’t sure I wanted to break free from. Francesco shifted onto the bed, settling beside me. 

His eyes burned with something unreadable, something I wasn’t sure I was ready to name. They commanded me — Spoke a language my body understood before my mind could.

No, this is so wrong.

His fingers trailed up my arm, slow, tracing invisible patterns. Then, he cupped my breast. A burning heat licked through me, spreading like wildfire beneath my skin. It was… intoxicating. Maddening. Too much. Not enough.

“Once we do this, there’s no going back,” he murmured, his lips just a breath away from mine. “Do you want to dine and wine with the devil as he pleases you? Think. It. Through.”

A warning. 

A challenge.

But it wasn’t really a choice, was it?

He didn’t want me to say no. And yet, something in his gaze told me he needed to hear me say yes.

How many sacrifices would I make just to free myself from Francesco’s clutches? Should I still try to escape… Or should I let myself burn in his hell?

Freeing myself meant certain death — The poison in my veins ensured that. Staying with him, however, might give me a sliver of hope. As long as I played by his rules.

Would I now be Francesco’s submissive?

No.

I can’t be anyone’s submissive.

But if earning his trust gives me a way out, then…

A slow smile curled my lips, and I tilted my head. “Are you asking me? I’m at your service, Don.”

The second the words left my mouth, Francesco moved. He pulled me closer, our bodies flush, the heat between us a dangerous, suffocating thing. His lips crashed onto mine — Not just a kiss, but a claim. 

A warning. A threat.

His tongue traced the seam of my lips, demanding entrance. I hesitated — just long enough to make him wait, long enough to let him feel that small, sweet taste of denial — before I parted for him.

He groaned against my mouth, his grip on my waist tightening. I was caged. Trapped. And yet… I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

His lips moved against mine with an intoxicating slowness, deepening the kiss in a way that was both torment and bliss. Every movement was calculated, designed to unravel me.

I shivered.

His touch was everywhere — Gentle, rough, teasing, punishing. A masterful mix of pleasure and torment. His hands slid down my body, his fingers ghosting over my thighs, my stomach, my ribs — everywhere but where I wanted them.

He was playing with me.

Toying with my patience.

Testing my submission.

The bastard was good at it, too.

He pulled back slightly, his breath fanning over my lips as he whispered, “Do you know how I play my obsessive nature with someone I’m obsessed with?”

His voice was husky, dark, dripping with the promise of something both sinful and sacred.

I forced my breathing to steady. “I don’t mind, Don. Do whatever you feel is good for my body. Maybe… The hate I have for you will be long gone.”

His smirk was slow, dangerous. “Who would’ve thought you wanted to kill me before?”

His words barely had time to settle before I moved. My hand slipped lower, cupping him through his pants.

He stiffened. His breath hitched. Then, his dark eyes met mine, gleaming with wicked amusement.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

“Of course.”

He stood, unbuckling his belt with an agonizing slowness. Then, he rolled down his pants, exposing the thick outline beneath his boxers.

His voice was taunting, smooth as silk. “Is this enough, or do you want to see more?”

Instead of answering, I reached behind him, my fingers gripping his ass, pressing him closer. His eyes widened slightly — A flicker of surprise before it was replaced with something darker.

I leaned in, inhaling the musky, intoxicating scent of him.

One pull, and his boxers slid past his hips.

His length stood thick and hard before me, the heat of him making my lips part slightly.

My breath came in heavy gasps. Yes, I had seen his length before, but never like this. Never so ready.

His fingers threaded into my hair, gripping, commanding.

Then came his low, wicked whisper. “Suck it.”