Dark Blood: A Mafia Hitman Romance (6 page)

M
y head is pounding
. I wake up, slowly gaining consciousness, and at once I know something's different. My eyes are so hard to open, and I moan as I struggle to come to.

"Good morning."

That voice is familiar. Dangerous and kind at the same time. The scent of strong black coffee greets me as I sit up on a soft surface. A quick look around reveals I'm in someone's apartment. It's messy. But at least I'm not chained down anywhere, and there's no immediate threat here.... Except for the voice.

I turn in the direction of its owner, my eyes connecting with Matteo's. I startle and nearly spill the warm liquid he's offering me in a chipped mug.

"Coffee," he says. With trembling fingers, I reach for the cup of the drink I've been craving for the past two days since being taken captive. His fingers wrap around mine for a second, and I feel a deep longing in a place where I don't usually feel...much.

I accept the mug from him and take a tentative sip. It's not my kind of coffee at all — I prefer it sugary and creamy — but it still feels good running down my throat. It's the first warm thing I've put in my belly in two days.

"W-where are we?" My voice is hoarse, my lips dry and cracked. I'm having trouble speaking, and my head still feels weird. "Why do I feel so...strange?"

"You've been drugged," Matteo tells me matter-of-factly. He's sitting on an armchair next to me and delivers the blow carelessly, like it's something normal to say.

"What? W-why would you drug me?" I ask.

"Wasn't me."

I sip the coffee and keep inspecting the apartment. It almost feels more like a hotel room, with generic furniture and nothing to signal this place actually belongs to someone. There are still moving boxes scattered around the room. Not a single personal touch in sight.

"Do you live here?" I ask, because I have to know. He simply nods in response. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because they were going to hurt you." He gets up from his chair when the microwave starts beeping, startling me from my dream-like state. "Are you hungry?"

My tummy rumbles in response, and I nod eagerly. "How long was I out?"

"Fifteen hours. It's evening now."

He comes back with a plate of food. It's just a microwave meal, nothing fancy, but my stomach rumbles again at the sight of the steam rising from the food. I reach for it eagerly, and for the next few minutes, we're enveloped in silence as I gulp down the meal. I'm so hungry.

He watches me eat silently, and once I'm done, reaches for the plate. At least that's what I think, until he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I wince, but I still lean into his touch.

"Are you gonna’ try to run again?" he wants to know.

I stare at him, at those deep eyes that are so dark they're almost black. "I don't know," I say softly. "Are you going to hurt me?"

"Yes, if you try to leave," he answers. At least he's honest. His hand is still lingering on my cheek, gently stroking the sensitive skin there. "I need you to stay here with me. For your own safety."

"Why do you care about that?"

"I don't know." His hand leaves my skin and I feel its absence like a sharp, stabbing pain. I need him. For reasons unknown to me, I need his touch. Even a second without his skin on mine is hurting me.

I don't think. Instead, I just move off the couch and sit at his feet in front of the armchair. I lean against his legs and his hand comes down to stroke my hair. It feels good. Natural. Like we were made to play the roles we've been forced into. For once, I'm a willing captive.

We sit like that for a while, and I let him stroke my hair with my arms wrapped around his knees. Finally, I look up at him. I have so many questions, yet they all feel unimportant as our eyes meet. For some reason, whenever I'm with Matteo, nothing else matters. There's just my beating heart and his dark eyes boring into mine. His touch and my heavy breathing. His slow exhale and my lashes fluttering, cheeks reddening when he looks at me.

"Get onto my lap," he says. I get up, crawling into his arms just like he wants me to. I should be fighting this. Every instinct in my body should be telling me to run from this predator. But instead, I want more. Closer. Deeper.

"Straddle me." His hands find my hips and I do as he tells me. I'm wearing the dress from the day before, all dirtied up. It slides up as I straddle his lap, and I feel something hard pressing against my center.

"What are you doing to me?" I ask him softly. "Why won't you let me go?"

"We both know that's not an option." He tugs on the ends of my hair, dangerously close to my breasts. I inhale sharply, not knowing whether I'm desperate for him to stop or keep playing.

"Why? Because of your father?" I need to know. I want to hear his reasons for keeping me. He's already defied his dad by taking me from the cell, I assume. I should be dead by now if everything had gone according to their plan. But for some reason, Matteo can't do it. He can't hurt me, can't raise a hand to me. I need to know why.

"Because...." His fingers trail along my collarbone, playing with the frayed collar of my dress. My breathing speeds up as he slides them under the hem, stroking my throat. I throw my head back, needing him to reach under my dress. Lower.

"I need you," he continues.

One hand on my hips, his other tangling in my hair and pulling me down. My eyes are still closed. I'm too afraid to open them and see the intensity of his gaze again. Our faces are inches apart and my lips part in anticipation.

"Need me to what?" I ask.

"Open your eyes."

I shake my head no.

"Now."

I'm hesitating, but then finally, slowly, I let my lashes flutter open. I was right. He's staring at me with those black eyes, right into my soul.

"Kiss me," he orders me.

I hesitate, and he tugs on my hair again in warning. Slowly, I place my hands on his chest and lean down. I'm an inch away when he raises his knee, making me slide forward. And then our lips are touching.

It's searing hot. Dangerous. So wickedly delicious. He tastes like strong coffee and determination. Deep. Dark. Taboo.

I open my mouth, welcoming his tongue. He kisses me, his tongue exploring with a force that will claim me forever. I'm already his, yet he's barely touched me. I already know I'll follow him wherever he goes. Fuck running. Fuck everything. I need him. I need his darkness, and he needs my light.

His hands wander slowly but deliberately down my back, finding the row of buttons on my spine. I imagine him putting the dress back on me while I was out of it, doing the buttons up one by one. I remember how scared I was when the three masked men came into the room again, offering me food. I wanted it to be him instead.

Matteo bites down on my bottom lip and I moan against his mouth, arching my back. He pulls down my dress roughly, until it's piled in a heap in my lap. With one motion, my bra falls open, and it falls on my dress. My tits are exposed now, my breathing heavy.

He moves away from my lips, his eyes locked on mine. I can't stand it when he does this. Any other man would've looked right at my nakedness, but he just...keeps looking at my eyes. I want him to see. I need him to touch me...there.

"Why won't you look?" I ask desperately, my breaths heavy and labored.

His finger touches my lips, sliding down the curve of my throat as I gasp. His eyes always on mine. Fucking hell.

He reaches the indentation between my breasts, lingering there until I feel like I'm about to burst. So close, but so far away from what I need.

"Please," I plead. My voice is a whisper, hoarse as hell. "Please, touch me."

He slides his finger only an inch to the left, and I can't take it. My head falls back, my mouth open. "Please." I'm past the point of no return. "Touch me. I can't take it." My words are a jumbled mess. "Touch me, you have to touch me."

"I do like it when you beg."

I look at him with glazed, desperate eyes. He won't break eye contact. His fingers find my left nipple, pinching gently. I can't take it. I grind on his lap, needing more. "Harder." I hardly care what I'm saying at this point. I need this. Need him. I'll beg if I have to. I'll probably love it, too.

He twists and I moan. Finally, fucking finally, his eyes tear away from mine and slowly wander down my body. He groans when he takes me in, pulling me closer. He sucks my nipple in his mouth and I'm losing it, arching my back, needing him to take me deeper.

"Fuck," he breathes. I feel his teeth grazing my skin, and I almost lose it. I can tell he's holding back, and I want to scream at him to stop doing that. I need him to lose control. Right. Fucking. Now.

I buck my hips against his, my shaky hands reaching down between my legs. He's pulling off the rest of my dress, throwing it on the floor, and I grab his arm, guiding it to my center. I move my panties to the side with his hand, and he looks down this time, his finger wandering between my folds.

"Fuck me," I beg him.

His other hand digs into my back. "No."

I'm feeling really fucking frustrated now. Why is he fighting this? Why doesn't he want me? Doesn't he think I'm beautiful? Doesn't he see how fucking...wet he just made me now?

I try to get off his lap, feeling humiliated. I'm halfway across the room when he lunges for me, pulling me back by my hair. I cry out in pain, but my body arches for him.

"That's a good girl," he says into my hair. "Arch your back like a good little slut."

I blush at his lewd words, but my body obeys. It's as if I were made for this. For him. He holds my arms on the small of my back, holding them in place. His other hand pulls my panties down and off, then he brings it back up to wrap around my hair and pull my head back. I feel vulnerable and turned on as hell.

"Are you really a virgin?" he asks me.

I barely manage to nod, he's holding me in such a vicious grip.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Please...." My voice is embarrassingly husky. "Please."

"Please what?"

I hesitate. I want to be done with the begging, but at the same time, it's doing things to me. Things I'd be embarrassed to admit out loud...though I'm fairly certain he'll make me do it anyway.

"F-fuck me," I manage to get out.

"It will hurt."

"Okay."

"I'm not gentle."

"Okay."

"I won't change that for you."

"Okay."

He lets go of me and I nearly tumble to the floor. I turn around, shaking all over. Matteo pulls his shirt off, and I gasp when I see his skin. He's ripped, and his body is covered with scars. Some running deep, some barely healed.

"Come here," he orders me. I do as he says. "Undress me."

It's a test. He's trying to show me I'm not ready for this. I give him a determined look, trying to pretend I don't feel vulnerable in front of him when he's clothed and I'm naked.

My hands shake as I reach for his belt. The metal is loud as I unbuckle it and slide down his jeans. He's wearing skintight navy boxers, which don't hide his erection. He's massive.

"All the way, princess," Matteo growls at me. His hands have formed fists at his sides and I can tell he's barely holding back. Hesitantly, I slide his boxers down and his cock springs free. He's huge, veiny and throbbing for me. I gasp as Matteo wraps his fingers in my hair, pushing me to my knees.

"Suck me first," he says. "Make it sloppy. I want that pretty face dirtied up."

I'm scared at the prospect of putting his dick inside my mouth. I doubt I can even wrap my fingers around it let alone fit it in my mouth. Tentatively, I reach for him and take him in my hand at the base of his cock. He groans, and I feel the strangest kind of pressure building in my center. It's intense, almost to the point of making me dizzy. I crawl closer on my knees and look up at Matteo. He's throbbing in my hand, and his hand is holding my head in place firmly.

"I don't know h-how," I stutter, licking my lips. I would be scared if it weren't for that pressure, the tension building inside me. But it feels so damn good. I feel hot and woozy, almost like I'm getting drunk on it.

"Lick," Matteo tells me. "Start at the base. Make your way up. Work that little pussy while you do that."

I blush at his crude words, but I know I'll do exactly what he tells me. I lean in, and my lips touch his base. It's silky, but firm. I moan against his cock and his fingers tighten in my hair. I start licking slowly, tentatively. Slow licks to get familiar with his taste. I moan against his rigid shaft, because I am weak and I can't hold back.

My shaky fingers find their way between my legs and I press down on my core. I'm moaning before I've even found my clit.

"That's a good girl," Matteo coos. "Spread your legs. Let me see."

I obey blindly, my knees going apart so he can see me touching myself. Both his hands are wrapped in my hair now, and my fingers are seeking out that little button that's throbbing in my center, so fucking desperate to be touched, pinched and flicked.

"Open your mouth, princess."

I look up at him, my eyes glazed over. "Why?"

"Do it, Bianca, or so fucking help me God...."

I part my lips and he pulls down on my hair. My fingers find that spot, that fucking spot that makes me lose all inhibition, just as he plunges his cock inside my mouth. I try to squirm free, but his grip on me is tight. His cock is huge, filling up my whole mouth and making my eyes tear up as he hits the back of my throat. But I'm still touching myself, with my free hand braced on Matteo's thighs. I could push him away easily enough, but I choose not to.

"Good girl," he praises me. "Let me fuck that pretty little face...."

My eyes widen as he pushes inside, then out, and back in. My throat is slowly becoming adjusted to his length and girth, and finally I find myself enjoying it.... And I'm back in the zone, my fingers strumming my clit, so fucking ready to cum. He fucks my face slowly, groaning with each deep thrust of his hips. A few tears roll down my cheeks, but I'm past the point of caring. I'm so close, so fucking close. I feel like I'm going to burst any minute now.