He fills me up with his cock, squeezing my ass in his hands.
“You feel good about yourself right now, don’t you?” he asks, voice feral. “You are la patrona. Look how fucking good you look, bouncing up and down on my cock. How fucking sexy you are with me deep inside you.” He rushes toward the nearest wall, and when my back slams into it, he sinks deeper. Deeper. Fully inside me now. “I want you to come all over my cock,” he demands. “Show me you fucking loved that shit. I know you did, because I fucking loved it too. Mi reina,” he rasps. “So sexy. So fucking perfect.” He rams in again, still thrusting, still going.
I clasp his face and notice there’s blood on his chest now too. Seeing it makes me reel him in until our bodies are glued. “Take me to the shower,” I moan.
He does just so, carrying me to the shower with his full, thick length still inside me, forcing my back to the shower wall with the glass door wide open for anyone to see if they dared walk in. He delivers a harder plunge, breaths growing shaky.
My moans can’t be held in anymore. I’m on the brink. The blood is washed away by the steady stream of water and seeping down the drain. We’re soaking wet, still grinding. Still going so fucking hard.
He doesn’t let up as he drills me like this, holding on tight, sucking on my skin so hard I’m sure it will leave a mark. He brings his mouth up and sinks his teeth into my bottom lip, grazing it, owning it.
“Ah, Draco,” I whisper as water collects on our lips. It feels good. Too good.
“You are fucking perfect,” he mutters, and the pull of his teeth, his fullness inside me, and his deep, orgasmic voice are enough to make me shatter.
He tenses as I cry out, holding onto him tighter, fingernails sinking into his shoulders, and then I feel him go still, but his cock is throbbing with release—a release I’ve never felt before.
“Shit, Gianna,” he curses. “Why do you have to be so fucking good?”
I rest the back of my head on the shower wall, eyes shut as he finishes off. The hot water coats my eyelashes and my face, but all I see behind my eyelids is red.
He fell asleep over an hour ago and I intentionally waited.
That was a nice fuck. A great one. I felt on top of the world while on top of him, but it’s still because of him that I’m here.
What I did in the shed has made me feel bolder. Fearless. It’s because of him that any of this has happened. Now he needs to pay for it. While his guard is down. While he’s resting. While he least expects it.
I climb out of bed and examine the weapon wall. There’s a pocketknife that I eyed before. It has a black handle with red script. The initials DM are on it. Draco Molina.
I take it down carefully, making sure not to make a sound. He’s resting on his back, eyes sealed, breathing evenly enough to let me know he’s sound asleep. I narrow my gaze at him as I climb back in the bed, the knife gripped in hand. I sling it open to check the blade. Of course it’s sharp. All of his knives are.
I watch him.
How he can be so peaceful around me astounds me. Perhaps he thinks he’s off the hook. Or maybe he really doesn’t care whether he lives or dies.
The blade is still out. I hover beside him, bringing the edge close to his throat. All it would take is one slice. One single movement, forward and backwards, just to end him, to leave him bleeding out all over this bed.
I’ve thought about it. As soon it’s done, I’d pack a few things and walk out, making sure to lock the door behind me. I’d leave and let all the guards know that he said I could go for a walk on the beach. Alone.
I would run to the nearest location—but not before freeing Ronaldo first. I would be free—free of him. Free of the lies and the blood and the nightmare I endured.
Draco shifts a bit, putting my focus back on him.
"If you're going to kill me, then kill me. Otherwise get that fucking knife away from my goddamn throat.”
My eyes stretch wide and I jerk away with a sharp gasp. I rest on my elbow as he turns his head to look at me. His face is unbothered—way too relaxed for what he knew I was about to do.
"What the fuck is your problem?" he grounds out.
"You owe me explanations," I hiss at him. "You haven't told me anything that you know about my dad or Toni, which probably means you’re lying just to keep me in your clutches."