Trapped (Sinners of Boston #5)

5. Delilah

FIVE

DELILAH

Two hours later, V parked the car at its final destination—an upscale hotel in the heart of Boston. V stood outside, talking to the valet.

I stayed rigid, my fingers clawing the seat. I kept second-guessing what I’d done. Imagining the hell storm of Dimitri’s fury when he realized I’d slipped from his grasp. He wouldn’t find me. Not for a long while, and once he did, it’d be too late. I’d already belong to another man.

One even more powerful than Dimitri.

The door yawned, and V’s boyish face poked through. “You coming?”

I unbuckled the seatbelt. I grabbed his hand as he helped me exit the car. People stared as I gathered my skirts and headed into the hotel, following V. No doubt, we looked weird together. Him in his jean jacket, black commando boots, and pants. Me in my wedding dress.

The fabric itched as we rode the elevator up. I couldn’t wait to rip it off my body. Despite my relief, the panicky feeling returned as the bell dinged. The man waiting for me in room 1514 scared me a lot less than my ex-fiancé, but I’d still traded one devil for another.

The elevator doors opened, and V led me down a carpeted hallway. My heart pounded with each step. No turning back now.

We halted in front of a door, and V knocked twice before stepping aside. It opened, revealing a man in a suit.

“Everything work out okay?” Santino asked V, who nodded. “You weren’t seen?”

“Nope.”

Santino handed an envelope to V. “There’s a bonus inside.”

V opened it, flipping through the bills. “I appreciate that.”

Santino jerked his head down the hall. “Now get lost.”

Tucking the envelope in his pocket, V strode down the hallway. Santino’s dark eyes locked onto mine. A smile crept across his face, dragging ice down my spine.

“Come in.”

I stepped inside, the room’s opulent décor barely registering as I focused on him. Santino closed the door behind us, sliding the button over Do Not Disturb before turning around. His eyes blazed as they traveled up the dress to the bodice and my boobs on display from the plunging neckline. This dress hadn’t been my first choice, not that anything about the wedding had been up to me.

Santino’s gaze lingered on my chest.

I didn’t call him out on it. He could do whatever he wanted. The man I’d left behind terrified me, but this one surprisingly didn’t. And yet, my abdomen tensed when he approached me.

He stopped inches away. “It’s been a long month for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It was an agonizing wait for me, too.”

Of course, he’d been looking forward to it. He got free pussy in exchange for whisking me out of Providence. For weeks, I’d dreaded this moment.

At least he’d dressed up for the occasion—fitted suit, leather shoes, cream button-up shirt. He’d styled his hair with the perfect amount of pomade that didn’t look crunchy. The man knew how to dress. He smelled nice, too. Notes of his cologne swirled in my nose—citrus and sea salt.

Santino’s thick brows furrowed. “What’s that on your arm?”

I didn’t have to look. “Bruises.”

“From what?”

I shrugged. “Dimitri was angry about the seating arrangements. We argued. He grabbed me.”

I had a whole routine down for covering up bruises. Smoky eyeshadow to cover up a black eye and deep red lips to hide a busted mouth. But some things were harder to conceal than others. Even foundation wasn’t enough to completely hide them.

“Did he hurt you anywhere else?” he demanded.

“No.”

Santino brushed a finger over the purple shadow. “How many times has he done this?”

“We don’t have to talk. I’d rather you just ripped off my clothes and got it over with.”

“You don’t call the shots,” he said coolly, crossing the room to a console table. He splashed whiskey into a tumbler.

I swiped the glass before he gave it to me, inhaling the alcohol. An earthy taste rolled over my tongue. Not my favorite, but it did the trick. I glanced at the label. Top-shelf brand. So he wasn’t cheap. Good.

I set the glass down. “Thanks.”

He poured himself a drink. “You know, I wasn’t sure if you’d go through with it.”

“I had no choice.”

He grunted. “It went okay?”

“Aside from my stepmom calling you, yeah. I woke up early this morning. Around three. Couldn’t sleep. I was worried it’d all go wrong. A bridesmaid would find out and report to him. Maybe you wouldn’t show up.”

He refilled my glass.

I gulped the alcohol down again, savoring the exquisite burn. As soon as it faded, my body screamed for more. I reached for the bottle, but Santino dragged it away from me.

“That’s enough for now.”

A ribbon of anger worked through me as I stared at the mostly full bottle. “It’ll help with my nerves.”

“You seem fine.”

I snorted. “I’m about to have sex with a man I hardly know.”

Santino drank his whiskey, setting down his glass with a grunt. He stepped closer, and I fought the urge to back off. His eyes were so dark, and they kept eating me up. He leaned in, his breath ghosting my ear. Then he inhaled. I listened to the air whistling in his nose.

Was he smelling me? What a freak.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. Santino’s hungry gaze watched me, his expression ravenous. Some of Dad’s men had looked at me like that. It always creeped me out, but with Santino, the effect was muted. Maybe because he was so handsome. He had a strong jaw and an insanely sensual mouth. His teeth were white and straight, and when he smiled, a dimple popped in his cheek. He was beautiful, but his presence was a loaded gun with a whisper for the trigger.

“So we’re spending the night together, and then what?” I pressed.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you to your new apartment.”

“How can I be sure it’s real?”

“I’m a man of my word, Delilah.”

I met his gaze. “That’s what they all say. Sending a car to deliver me here doesn’t prove much.”

“It’s a little too late to back out.”

“I’m not backing out. I’m clarifying terms.”

He shot me a twisted smile. “You don’t get to demand last-minute changes.”

I lifted my chin. “Then find another girl to be your sex slave.”

Inwardly, I cringed.

You didn’t talk to a man like that, especially after he saved your ass. I grew up watching Dad smack Mom down after a snarky comment and decided I liked not being hit more than I enjoyed being right.

But I couldn’t stand being at Santino’s mercy. I needed more than his protection if I was going to thrive in Boston. Living wasn’t enough. I wanted to grow something of my own. And I couldn’t do that without money.

Santino seemed to find my gall amusing. “What exactly do you want, principessa?”

“An allowance. Five thousand a month. And if I’m going to be your full-time mistress, all my expenses will be paid for.”

His eyes sparkled. “Done.”

“Just like that? No negotiation?”

He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve already rented out an apartment in my name. All your bills will be forwarded to me. I’ll throw in another grand for food, too. I assume you don’t cook.”

He assumed wrong, but I wouldn’t talk myself out of more money.

He reached into his wallet and grabbed a thick clip of cash. Licking his thumb, he counted the bills, piled them in a neat stack, and gave it to me.

“That’s only half. I’ll give you the rest in a couple weeks.”

Jesus . “Oh. Okay.”

“We good?”

I inclined my head. I didn’t expect that to work. Shaking, I took the bills and braced for him to slap it out of my hands. When he didn’t budge, I slipped the cash into my clutch. The snap of it closing jolted through me.

“So, what now?” I asked him.

“Now,” he murmured, taking the empty glass from my hand and setting it on the table. “We take off your dress.”

Santino stepped behind me. His hands drifted to the back of my gown, undoing the buttons. I stood still, my pulse pounding. The fabric slid down, revealing the crotchless bridal lingerie and open-cup bra.

“You wore that for me?” he said huskily, moving in front of me.

My heart hammered. “Dimitri picked it out.”

“I’ll have to thank him.”

I blushed from my ears to my neck, and he grazed a finger across my burning jaw.

“Are you a virgin?”

“No,” I whispered as he cradled my chin. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not, principessa.”

His voice stirred the darkness inside me.

“Why do you keep calling me a princess?”

“Because you’re delicate but very demanding. Isn’t that what princesses are?”

I scoffed. “I’m anything but delicate.”

“Well then, you’re something precious that needs to be protected.”

I opened my mouth, but my breathing stopped.

He let go of my face, his touch drifting to my waist. I shivered. His fingers skimmed my skin as they began tracing the bra band. His thumb brushed the cutouts of my bra with feather-light touches.

“I’m going to take my time with your body,” he purred, drawing curlicues over my breast. “If you’re a good girl, you’ll get my mouth. If you’re bad…”

His palm had reached my pussy, and he slapped it.

An unexpected jolt joined the smarting pain.

“Touch me,” he demanded.

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

I put my hand on his chest, feeling his muscles through the jacket and dress shirt. Then I linked my arms around his neck, my heart hammering. He made me nervous, and it was harder to hide that up close. His hands slid down my back, grabbing my ass.

Then he lifted me.

I went into the air with hardly any effort. Santino looked comfortable with me in his arms. The sheer strength and size of him was a reminder of what he could do to me. How useless it would be to fight. He laid me in the middle of the bed, unlinking my arms from his neck.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Feeling foolish, hot, and confused, I obeyed. I bunched my fingers into the sheets, waiting for him to climb onto the mattress and stab himself inside me.

Instead he walked around the bed, touching me here and there like a man assessing a recent purchase. I held my breath as he repositioned me, pushing my knees further apart and arching my back toward the bed. He grabbed my ass with both hands, and his thumbs pressed into my lips and pulled, opening me. I’d never been so vulnerable in my life.

“What a perfect girl,” he murmured, his praise stroking me like hot feathers. “Beautiful and brave.”

My face flushed. “I’m not perfect.”

Santino lightly traced my clit. “You’re exactly what I want.”

“Fine, but I’m not perfect.”

“You’re whatever I say you are.”

Was this supposed to make me feel comfortable? Because it didn’t. I wasn’t used to being showered with compliments. My only sexual experiences had been one-night stands with men who didn’t give a damn about me.

“Turn around,” he rumbled.

I complied, lying on my back.

Santino stood at the foot of the bed, the wool of his pants tented with his erection. “Show me your pussy.”

I opened my legs a fraction, the bridal lingerie leaving nothing to the imagination. Santino knocked my knees apart and lowered himself between my thighs, his gaze riveted on me. His hands curled around my thighs, and he brushed his lips across the sensitive skin. His hungry mouth blazed a trail closer and closer.

My cheeks burned.

He must’ve liked what he saw because he pressed his lips to my clit. Heat flashed through my body before it went taut and seized again as he licked.

I made a strangled sound.

He caught my eye, winked, then resumed licking. I had no measure of time, but it felt like an hour passed while a stranger’s mouth sucked me, his perfect tongue flicking my clit, pressing his nose flat to tongue-fuck me. With his finger, he played with the swollen nub.

I couldn’t breathe. I fisted the sheets.

Pleasure crested, and then he added a finger. My breathing hitched as he plunged in and out, working me into a frenzy. His eyes never left mine, the intensity in them making my head spin.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

I couldn’t form words.

Santino’s finger worked magic inside me, and I felt an orgasm building. His thumb stayed on my clit, rubbing in slow circles that made me arch off the bed. “That’s right,” he growled, adding another finger and increasing the pace. “Come for me.”

My world shattered as I came, my body shaking.

His touch disappeared as I squirmed on the bed.

Santino unbuckled his slacks and shucked off his clothes. He was such a man. Curly hair dusted his built chest and trailed down a sculpted abdomen. My gaze darted to his thick cock, fully erect and veiny, just as perfect as the rest of him.

This is happening .

A dark thrill ran through me that felt too much like excitement. I’d spent at least a decade listening to my dad complain about Italians. How they were dirty, lying, cheating thugs, and now I was about to sleep with one. If my father ever found out, he’d strangle me in my sleep.

The bed dipped as Santino climbed on.

He urged me onto my hands and knees so that I faced the headboard.

I breathed in sharply. “I’m not on birth control.”

He shushed me and kissed the nape of my neck. The room was charged with a dangerous energy as he positioned himself behind me. His hands roamed over my back and down to my hips, pulling me closer to him.

I swallowed hard.

I felt him sliding on my slick pussy. He entered me, stretching me inch by inch. Oh my God . It was overwhelming, like he was splitting me apart. Was that his cock or a baseball bat? I gritted my teeth against the ache and winced as he seated himself completely. Santino stayed buried inside me, his fingers digging into my hips. He stroked my curves, giving me a few moments to adjust.

Then he moved. He was so big that his slow rhythm had me gasping. His hand gripped the back of my neck, holding me in place. His thrusts were powerful, like ocean waves battering rocks.

Over and over .

My eyes watered as pain rushed over me, ratcheting my pleasure higher. His cock dove in and out of me— no condom . Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop this. Every stroke bound me tighter to him, stoking flames that would consume us both.