Isabella’s POV

Is this dangerously handsome man before me Lorenzo Marino?

I shook my head. It couldn't be. According to the lesser dons, Lorenzo wasn't due until tomorrow.

I forced a huge lump down my throat, and I turned around, hiding the flush that stained my cheeks. “I am sor-ry. Obviou-ssly I made a miss-take…” I stammered. I shut my eyes and had to push another lump down my throat to get my voice ready again. “I’ll be going now,” I said.

I bent low and gathered my tattered dress and lingerie to myself, and I moved for the transparent glass doors.

I ignored the sloshy slap of wet footsteps behind me. I was slipping through the door when a strong hand claimed my waist, and he pulled me back into the terrace.

I struggled against his grip at first. But I turned and met his face again, and somehow my struggle died inside of me. His piercing gray orbs pinned me down like a peg. I found my eyes unconsciously tracing his face. The mop of jet-black hair on his head dropped water onto his face, and the droplets slid down the smooth olive skin of his chest.

I sucked in a deep, long breath as his stare lingered, almost like a gasp, but longer. He was perhaps the most handsome man I had ever seen and probably will ever see. But just who is he? He wasn’t any of the lesser Dons, nor could he be Don Lorenzo. Just who is this man? Is he part of this miserable brotherhood responsible for Lucas's death?

His palm now settling on my ass sent a rush of delicious heat sizzling through my veins. I found myself squirming around his arm like the fool that I was. My thoughts burned off to a trail of soft, delightful whimpers. I bit down on my lips, reproaching myself. 

He finally spoke again, his voice smooth and clear, like velvet. “You can't leave yet, miss.”

I parted my lips to speak, but then I stopped, knowing I was about to stammer again. I shut my eyes tight, cleared my throat, and said, unsuccessfully shaking off the heat of his touch. “Why can't I leave? I told you I mistakenly stumbled upon this room. I didn't really mean to come in here.”

“You can't leave because you forgot something.”

His jaw, strong and defined in a smooth V-shape, moved as he spoke, and his shoulders, broad, carried arms over twice the size of mine, which flexed unconsciously as he spoke.

I looked past him at the terrace, but I saw nothing other than the puddle of water slouched over the tiles from the pool. “But I forgot nothing.” I answered.

“You forgot this.” He said. He had been holding down his hard-on. He released his hand, letting his massive length free. It pushed against my stomach, prodding, pulsing, and hungry.

I jumped back from his cock while I rubbed my thighs together against the heat pooling in my sex. He pulled me back into his arms, not giving me room for escape. “You woke it up. Now we have to do something about it,” he said, his voice still cold and clinical. He spoke like this was a task I had to do, and I had no choice against it.

Before I could speak and yell at him that I was not a prostitute, his lips had already pressed down on mine. Both of his hands clamped down around my waist. He held me steady as he hungrily sucked on my lips.

I should push him away. Every bit of logic says so. But as if drugged, my hands just hung limply around me as he kept sucking, squeezing, and licking my lips like he owned them.

His tongue slapped my lips open wider and delved into the moistness of my mouth, licking up every inch of me from the inside. Every single moment his lips fed on mine. Every single kiss he drew from me sent ripples of electrical currents slicing through me, splitting me open with a feeling that was not only raw but delicious.

I spasmed against his body, my body begging for more. I had no idea when I threw my hands to his head, slipping my fingers into the soaked tendrils of his hair. I moaned softly against his lips, each moan crashing against his mouth and filling me with more and more heat.

He swallowed every single moan, his tongue teasing my mouth, licking the inside walls of my cheeks, my tongue, and even down to my throat. I felt him everywhere, lapping at my saliva as if it were wine.

“You taste good, woman. You really do,” he moaned against my teeth. With his hands still firm on my waist, he pulled me further into the terrace. I don't know if he tripped or if it was deliberate, but the next minute, we were crashing into the pool on our side, water splashing around us.

Once inside the pool, with the water slapping gently against my body, his hands grappled my breasts, both of them. He pulled off my already torn bra, and my breast, round and firm, filled his palms. While I was still shaking water off my eyes, he led me to the walls of the pool, and like a dial, he tweaked my nipples under the water. Sharp, arching, yet tantalizing tremors rippled through my veins. I threw my head into the bright night sky, echoing out a moan so raw and loud, my throat vibrated like it had just endured a shattering earthquake.

“You moan just right.” For the first time tonight, I watched his lips fold in a grin when I dropped my head back to him.

“Do you love what I am doing to you, woman?” He asked, still wearing that proud, satisfied grin.

I nodded my head gently in confirmation, trying to endure the waves of delicious heat consuming me from the inside.

“I want words, woman. That assures me you truly mean it.” He demanded. His voice was still cold and clinical, as if this moment we were sharing were all some tasks.

He twisted my nipples again, harder and rougher than before. I threw my head to the night sky again, grating out a moan that almost tore off my throat.

“Words.” He demanded again. He sure was authoritative. Almost like a Mafia boss himself. Was he another of the lesser dons?

But my thoughts quickly burned off.

I struggled with the pain turned heat consuming my whole breasts, and I breathed out the words “Yes. I love it. I do.”

“Good.” He grinned again, licking his lips. “So you should enjoy this more.”

I felt his fingers on my panties under the water. The water swallowed the noise of the tear as he ripped it from me.

I spasmed against the smooth and wet walls of the pool when his fingers drilled through me, harsh, rough, and brutally fast. I threw my arms around his body, grabbing onto him for dear life. My fingers dug hard into his back as another body-shattering moan screamed out of me, filling up the night.

“Yeah. Keep moaning like that, woman. I love every bit of it,” he grinned. Then his fingers began pumping into me, pushing me to the cliff of desires and pulling me back before I could tilt over and collapse.

His thrusts weren't nice and gentle. He didn't even try to be. Each thrust shoved into me with a brutal precision that was meant to take completely from me, because for some reason, he thought he owned me. Each thrust dragged out moans so raw and hot, I never could believe they came from me, and my throat burned hotter with each one. My lungs were practically a furnace inside of me.

My eyes rolled fast to the back of my head and then back. I collapsed against his fingers, hugging tight to his body. He not only fucked me with his fingers, but he also teased the walls of my sex, slapping the cold water of the pool in as well. The water sloshed against the inner walls of my sex.

I clamped my thighs around his fingers, my sex clenching tight around them as my thighs buckled under the weight of a wave of sensations that bombarded every vein and cell in me, swallowing me up from the inside.

My eyes rolled faster again to the back of my head, and by the time they rolled back, my juices were pumping into his hands and the water. I vibrated like a busy alarm bell in his hands, the whole of me consumed by a trailer load of delicious sensations that was ripping me apart.

“Now you are ready for my cock. I want you to moan on it as you did my fingers. I enjoy listening to you moan.” He said.

I was trying to warn him that I could take no more. I was already beyond exhausted, but my lips just couldn't form the words. For a strange reason, I also wanted to know just how that massive cock would fit through me, and I wanted to enjoy it.

I found out quite early enough, as his cock prodded my sex for a split moment before shooting brutally into me, like an airplane without control plummeting to the ground. Just like his fingers, he didn't make the thrust nice at all. It was just as brutal—a subtle declaration that I was his, and there was nothing even I could do about it.

His massive length stretched me thin, and he grabbed my ass cheeks with both of his hands, pushing himself deeper in until I had taken in every bit of his length and he’d filled me up completely so that my sex now wrapped around him like a second skin. Then he began thrusting harder and harder into me, brutal, fast, and clinical.

I latched hard to him, throwing my hands around his neck. I hugged him so tight my breasts jutted against his chest as he pounded into me. He drilled the cold water of the pool into me with each thrust.

The moans that came out of me now were so loud and guttural that my throat ached. The rest of the moans came out broken and low. The remnant heat stayed in my chest and burned it up as well. Yet, the delicious delight that consumed me completely from the inside only made me want more. I writhed like a trapped fish around his cock, my sex throbbing, my body aching, and my soul burning for more.

He bit into my shoulder gently too, his soft, satisfied moans heating up my skin.

Before long, his hips buckled against mine, and his seed, hot, snaked up my sex, and he came right inside of me. Coincidentally, at the same time, my thighs buckled too, my eyes rolling fast to the back of my skull. I grated a final moan, and I collapsed against into his body, my juice, creamy and slick, washing up his cock.