Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(32)

Overwhelmed, I fell forward. My face pressed against his chest as I drew in sharp breath after sharp breath. Adamo’s hand slid over my back gently.

The caress felt good, gave my tumultuous insides an anchor. I allowed myself to enjoy his touch and our still intimate connection.

I could have stayed like this forever, listening to his racing heartbeat, but eventually I sat up. Adamo was still buried in me but he was slowly growing soft. I lifted off him and scrambled backwards and out of the car. Adamo didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t say anything at all, only removed the condom and knotted it. I fumbled for my clothes in the near dark and awkwardly put them on. They were dusty and stuck to my sweaty skin.

I looked at Adamo, and again part of me wanted to stay, to crawl back into his car and stretch out on the backseat beside him. I trusted that side of me even less than I trusted Adamo.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d never screwed someone I wasn’t dating, and I didn’t know how to handle Adamo, or my feelings. Eventually I just turned around to walk away.

Before I was out of earshot, Adamo said, “Good night, Dinara.”





Until I saw Adamo again the next day, I wasn’t sure how I’d react. If I’d try to bring our relationship back to a less intimate state. Yet, the moment he joined me in the morning with his own bowl as I ate my oatmeal and quietly ate beside me, I knew I didn’t want to take a step back. I wanted more.

“Are you okay?” Adamo asked eventually.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

Adamo shrugged. “I thought you might avoid me now. But it seems I was wrong.”

“Would you prefer if I ignored you?”

“I’d prefer if you’d join me at my car tonight again.”

I stifled a smile. “Deal.”

Adamo and I didn’t waste much time when I arrived at his car. We kissed as if we were long lost lovers with limited time to enjoy each other. Maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth because time was definitely not in our favor.

I was Russian. He was Italian. And even if the racing camp might have blurred some lines, our families were at war.

Adamo moved us backward toward his car and hoisted me on its hood, never ceasing his kiss. His fingers found my piercing then he tugged the shirt over my head and pulled out of the kiss only to lower his lips to my breast.

His tongue teased my nipple, flicking the piercing back and force. I released a sharp breath, my legs parting out of their own accord. Adamo pressed a palm against my crotch. I wondered if he could feel my wetness even through the layers of fabric.

My fingers pressed into the hood, my breath coming in short bursts. Every muscle in my body tightened and my heart pounded wildly in my chest.

Adamo stepped back and I almost protested until my pride snapped my mouth shut.

Adamo opened the button of my jean shorts then slid them down together with my panties and squatted in front of me. He looked up at me. His face was shrouded in shadows but I knew he was waiting for me to give my okay.

After yesterday, his actions had been more cautious. I didn’t want him to hold back. I wasn’t fragile.

My throat was dry, too dry to speak. I parted my legs wide. I wouldn’t half-ass this. I was sopping wet for the man before me. His tongue traced a wet line along my inner thigh, raising goosebumps and making me shiver. I wondered if he could feel the ridges from the past on my skin. So far he hadn’t mentioned them. A man with as many scars as he had might have learned to not ask questions about other people’s marks.

The night air felt cold against my sopping wet center. I didn’t take my eyes off Adamo, didn’t lean back. This position gave me a sense of control even if Adamo would soon rip it from me. He moved on to my other thigh and dragged his tongue along my sensitive skin there. “When are you going to lick me?” I asked, but my voice lacked the sarcasm and bravado I’d wanted to put into it. I wanted to feel his tongue on me, in me.

“Soon,” Adamo rasped, and his following exhale ghosted over my wet pussy. I bit my lip, tense with expectation and anxiety. The idea of losing control like last time still tightened my chest but my body was calling for more, louder than any doubt and anxiety.

And then Adamo’s tongue swiped over my slit slowly, tracing around my clit before he nudged apart my folds with just the tip of his tongue. My teeth sunk into my lower lip as his tip caressed my sensitive flesh, slowly delving deeper until he reached my entrance. My head fell back for a moment, my eyes wide in awe at the sensation Adamo created with a brush of his tongue.

He circled my opening, his breathing now more audible.

His lips closed around my sensitive folds, sucking, and I inhaled sharply.

“Do you like it?” Adamo murmured after a while, his voice heavy with desire. As if to emphasize his question, he swiped his tongue upward and nudged my clit.

“Don’t talk,” I gritted out. “Lick me.”

His fingers cupped my ass cheeks and he really dove in. Less gentle, louder. His tongue parted my folds, seeking my entrance, diving in. He flicked up and down, awakening every nerve ending. My lust trickled out and Adamo lapped it up, making me moan. “Do that again,” I whispered, almost delirious from the sensations.

Adamo parted me wider and slowly ran his tongue along my opening. My fingers tugged at his hair as I watched him draw out more of my juices and feasting on them. My hips shifted restlessly. Adamo looked up, meeting my gaze as he kept eating me out, his lips shiny with my lust and his eyes hungry for more. My grip on his hair tightened further as my core began to spasm.