Menace (Scarlet Scars #1)(98)

He braces himself, his hand gripping my shoulder, and thrusts inside of me. I let out a deep groan as my eyelids flutter. Fuck. He wastes no time, doing exactly what I asked.

He f*cks me. It’s powerful. Brutal. Hips slam into me from behind as he fills me deeply, over and over. Skin slapping noises echo through the room as he drives me into the table so hard it starts to move. I grip onto the edge of it, trying to hold on, trying to stay still, but he makes it impossible. Pain and pleasure merge inside of me, consuming me, and it doesn’t take long before I start to grow numb. Tingles encompass me. My mind blanks out. Nothing exists except his cock inside of me, him on top of me, slamming into me from behind. I cry out with every deep thrust, incoherent noises, like everything inside of me is being purged.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Orgasm rips through me more than once. I lose track of time. I lose track of everything but him. An hour, or a minute, who knows?

He bites down on my shoulder when he finally comes. It brings me back around, my eyes opening, and I blink slowly, feeling him spilling deep inside of me. He doesn’t pull out. Warmth flows through me, my muscles twitching, my * throbbing.

I don’t know that I could ever get enough of this.

He pulls out, but I stay there, lying against the table, watching him. He pulls his pants up, buttoning and zipping them, before plopping back down in his chair. Exhaling loudly, he scrubs his hands down his face before pulling out his Altoids tin, retrieving a joint and lighting it.

“If you’re hoping for another round, you’ll be waiting awhile,” he says. “My head is f*cking killing me today.”

I smile softly. “I’m good, thanks.”

He smokes in silence for a moment, his gaze scanning me before he asks, “Were you serious about what you said?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

“No, but if I said it, I meant it.”

He starts to say something when ringing cuts through the room. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he glances at it, brow furrowing.

His eyes flicker back to me as he presses a button, bringing it to his ear. “Gambini.”

There’s a brief moment where Lorenzo doesn’t speak.

“Ah, Aristotle,” he says, sounding amused. “I see you finally grew a sack and unblocked your number. Good for you. I’m proud.”

My smile falls. Kassian.

I can’t see the man. I can’t even hear his voice. Miles separate us, as do thousands of people, but knowing he’s just a breath away on the phone makes it feel like he’s right in front of me again.

My insides coil.

My knees, they go weak. I desperately wish they wouldn’t. But Kassian is like poison. Just a tiny taste on my tongue is enough to take me down. I hate it, reacting to him, but I can’t help it. It ignites a spark, flooding me with memories, a flip-book of all the cruel things he’s done, the ways he’s single-handedly broken my reality.

Lorenzo’s eyes stay fixed on me as he sits there, listening to Kassian. I wish I knew what he was saying, but at the same time, I’m terrified to hear what might come from his mouth.

“That doesn’t work for me,” Lorenzo responds. “Why don’t I come to you instead?”

My stomach sinks.

“Got it,” Lorenzo says.

He hangs up, slipping the phone back into his pocket, before standing up from his chair.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “What does he want?”

Pausing behind me, Lorenzo’s hand brushes against my ass, before sliding further down, between my thighs, caressing me. My question goes unanswered, unsurprisingly. He slips a single finger inside, carefully sliding it in and out, as he leans down, trailing kisses along my shoulder blade. I’m sore, but he’s so gentle.

I moan.

“You’re insatiable,” he says, his mouth trailing along my spine.

“You’re just addictive,” I whisper, “and I’m turning into a junkie.”

He slides another in.

I close my eyes as he finger-f*cks me.

I whimper, groaning his name. “Lorenzo.”

Everything else is incoherent as an orgasm stirs. My body locks up, my muscles contracting at the swell of pleasure that fades away all too fast again.

Pulling his hand away, he reaches for me, and I open my eyes in just enough time to see it as his fingers brush against my mouth. My lips part, and he pushes his fingers in, the taste of both of us on my tongue.

He watches me, smiling.

“He wants to have a conversation,” Lorenzo says, pulling his fingers from my mouth as he starts to walk away. “So I’m going to humor him, you know, for the moment, just to hear what he has to say.”

I shove away from the table when he says that, moving so fast it tears apart a section of his puzzle, pieces sticking to the sweaty skin of my stomach. Ugh. I rip them off, tossing them onto the table, as I yank my pants up.

“You can’t,” I say. “You can’t just go to him.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t work that way.”

He stalls in the doorway. “And what way does it work, Scarlet?”

“I don’t know,” I say, “but not like this. Not on his terms. He’s not someone you can just talk to. He’s not someone you can rationalize with. I know. Don’t you think I’ve tried? He manipulates people, and he twists things, and he uses it to his advantage, and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Ever. When he makes up his mind, that’s it. You can’t appeal to his humanity because there is none.”