Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

Hours after witnessing Ginevra’s humiliation at the restaurant, I sit in the back of the car, my eyes glued to the surveillance app. She tosses and turns in bed, tangled in her sheets. After the day she’s had, I’m not surprised she can’t sleep.

Nick Terranova has taken back the law firm her father stole with the help of Capello, the transfer of her salary has been reversed, with the company credit cards canceled. And Valentino Bossanova is romancing her mother like she’s a billion-dollar insurance policy.

Her problems are piling on thick and fast, but they’re about to become worse.

It’s been a productive day. After preparing the boys from Mortis House for the upcoming casino raid, Reaper and I met my cousin, Elania, to help with waste disposal. She and her sister run the Newtown Crematorium.

Instead of giving me a price for the use of her four twin cremators, she launched into a detailed spiel about the destruction of DNA during cremation. The heat obliterates most genetic material, but some traces might linger in the bone fragments.

She lectured us on the high-tech forensic methods that could recover these remnants, but it all amounted to one thing. Elania wants an exorbitant amount for the extra work to make sure there’s zero chance the cops will recover DNA from the ashes.

I offered to take the ashes to the yacht and pour them into the ocean, but she refused. The crematorium is her place of business. If she gets caught, she and Aria would be facing charges of obstruction of justice, conspiracy, tampering with evidence, and accessory to murder.

When I told her I wanted the men burned alive, she lost it, pointing out that burning live bodies would be premeditated murder, adding to the list of charges. She asked me if I wanted to replace Roman on Death Row and send her and Aria to the electric chair, then tripled her price.

On the plus side, she didn’t say no.

Home is chaos. Business is carnage. Roman is allowing Capello’s daughter to roam the house and grounds because she’s a feral creature who can’t be caged. If she’s not hurling herself off balconies, she’s smashing the heirlooms.

We were also the target of a female assassin. So, in between torturing betrayers, Cesare is doing unspeakable things to her in our basement. Leroi, who may or may not be the target of assassins, is also hiding out on our grounds with a stomach wound.

I recently clawed back our stolen meth lab from the Galliano brothers in New Jersey, but they’re demanding the return of its cook, Isabella Cortese. She’s Reaper’s sister, who they tortured for half a decade. I’ll be damned if she spends another hour in the company of either of those Galliano bastards.

Things are tense between us and New Jersey. Roman met with Tommy Galliano tonight at the Phoenix. I watched the door, making sure he didn’t bring an army. Cesare was supposed to keep an eye on the cameras, but there’s a suspicious gap in the recordings. And a female employee he was caught choking a few days ago and subsequently fired was found murdered in the alley.

I don’t need to watch the deleted footage to know he’s the culprit.

Roman will confront him tomorrow. Cesare was my responsibility while he was on Death Row. It’s time to pass the burden to big brother before chaos becomes carnage at home, too.

Now, I’m frustrated, needing to blow off steam, with twenty years of pent-up desire to offload. And my cock still thinks she’s the only woman in the world.

At least she’s no longer off-limits, which is why I’m parked behind the hedge bordering her house. She’s home alone, and her mother is out on another date with Bossanova. When I strike, no one will hear her scream.

Several minutes later, Ginevra finally settles. I put on my helmet, exit the car, and make the same route into her bedroom through the closet window.

I step out, finding moonlight spilling through the windows, casting a cold glow on Ginevra’s sleeping form. Her auburn hair fans out on the pillow, making her look like a Pre-Raphaelite painting of Ophelia.

The sight of her is heartbreaking. Beneath that beautiful facade is a backstabber.

Crossing the room, I stand over her, my fists clenching at my sides. Hatred and desire wars within my soul. How can I still want her after she left me for Samson Capello? The broken engagement was the first of many betrayals to befall our family, all orchestrated by a false friend who resented our legacy.

She knew what was happening and didn’t think to send a warning. She left my grandmother’s ring with a note that said next to nothing.

“Ginevra,” I hiss through the voice changer.

Her eyes flutter open. In the dim light, they’re a deep gray, bordering on black.

“Who’s there?” she whispers, sounding half asleep.

“Did you come?” I ask, my voice low and rough.

Her eyes dart back and forth, unable to meet mine. She shifts uncomfortably on the bed, her cheeks flushing.

“I… what?”

“It’s a simple question. Did you or did you not climax from sucking my cock?”

She swallows, her lips trembling. “What are you doing here? I thought we were even.”

“Then you place little value on your life,” I growl. “You can be a good girl and stop evading my question or discover exactly how I punish bad girls.”

She breathes hard, clutching the comforter to her chest like a shield. The sight of tears glistening in her eyes makes my cock twitch.

When she still doesn’t answer, I hold a knife to her throat.

“Yes,” she whispers, her breath quickening, her eyes glued to the blade. “I came.”

Stifling a groan at her admission, I clench my jaw.

A single word from this woman’s plump lips practically has me on my knees. I should snuff her life and end her dangerous spell, but I’ve loved her for so long, killing her would be like slicing open my heart.

“Show me,” I demand.

When her gaze jumps from the knife to my helmet, I bark, “Now!”

Whimpering, she pushes back the covers, revealing her delectable body. Her skin is pale, almost luminescent in the moonlight, covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath, her pale nipples hardening in the cool air. Every part of her quivers, vulnerable, exposed.noveldrama

With trembling fingers, she trails a path down her belly to the apex of her thighs. Moisture glistens between the lips of her pussy as she spreads her legs. The sight grips me like a vise, tightening around my chest.

I swallow hard, my breath catching, intoxicated by the raw need. My pulse hammers in my ears, a deafening rhythm that drowns out every other thought.

She hesitates, her fingers hovering, and glances up at me through wide, fearful eyes.

“Do it,” I command, my voice sharp enough to cut through the tension like a blade.

Her fingers part her folds, at first moving tentatively. She circles her clit with slow, deliberate strokes, her breath hitching. The sight stirs my most primal urges, releasing a part of me that snarls and claws for release, but I force it down, focusing instead on my simmering rage.

“Faster,” I snap, the words striking out like a punch.

She whimpers, a soft, broken sound that hits me like a jolt of electricity, making my muscles clench.

Her movements quicken, becoming more urgent as she rolls her hips.

My hands curl into tight fists as she slips two fingers into that sweet cunt with a frantic intensity. She moves like this is her last night on earth.

The room fills with the slick sound of her digits plunging into her pussy, mingling with her desperate moans. It takes every ounce of control I have not to lose myself in the debauched sight.

As her hips lift off the bed to meet her thrusts, a groan claws its way up my throat. I bite it back, my jaw aching with the effort to stay contained.

“Did I give you permission to use your fingers?” I snarl, the words coming out harsh and rough.

Tension coils in my core, threatening to snap.

“No,” she moans, her voice breathy, laced with a need that sends heat racing down my spine.

“No, what?” I deepen my voice.

“No, sir,” she gasps, her eyes flickering up to meet mine.

“Call me Master.”

“Yes, Master.” Voice trembling, she moves her hips faster, her fingers working at a feverish pace. Her cries grow louder, more desperate, filling the room and making my cock push painfully against my zipper.

The pressure is unbearable. I want to take her, to claim her, to bend her to my will, but for now, I let the tension stretch, savoring every moment of her unraveling.

Ginevra was never like this when we were together. It’s no wonder she left me for Samson. That sadistic bastard unlocked a sensuality in her I could never touch.

“Look at you, so eager to come in front of a stranger,” I growl.

She cries out.

“You’re nothing but a desperate slut,” I sneer.

Tears slip down her cheeks, but she continues, her body shaking with the effort. I revel in her submission, in her humiliation, in her degradation. Pushing Ginevra Di Marco off her pedestal is the sweetest form of addiction.

I lean in, wishing I could remove the helmet, let her see the face of the man stripping her bare.

“You disgust me,” I say. “And yet, I can’t stay away.”

“What do you want from me?” she sobs, her voice breaking.

“Your complete and utter ruin.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as though trying to block the reality of her situation. That she loves being forced to masturbate at knifepoint.

“Do you want to come, little slut?” I drop my voice to a growl, lacing each word with menace.

“Please,” she groans, her desperation making my pulse thrum harder.

Breath quickening, I pull back the knife, enjoying how she shivers in its absence. “Then take out my cock.”

She scrambles to sit up, the sudden movement making her breasts bounce. Her fingers fumble with my fly, pulling down the zipper and freeing my length.

A moan escapes my throat as the pressure eases.

Her lips part, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her tongue.

“Who gave you permission to taste my cock?” I ask with a smirk.

She stares up at me, her mouth falling slack. I hold back a chuckle. Dirty little Ginny can’t get enough of me.

“Use both hands,” I command. “And keep your eyes on me.”

Swallowing hard, she wraps her soft fingers around my shaft and strokes. The heat of her touch spreads down to my balls, sharp and immediate, like a spark catching fire. My breath falters, and every muscle coils tight as pleasure surges up my spine. Every stroke is maddening, pulling tension through my core. My eyes roll back, and it takes everything in me to stay conscious.

“Scoop some of that wetness from your pussy,” I say, forcing my voice to stay even. “Use that as lube.”

Without hesitating, her hand disappears between her legs. The sight of her glistening fingers has my knees buckling. She spreads the slickness over my shaft and continues stroking.

“Good girl,” I say, almost wishing I wasn’t using the voice changer.

Her fingers quicken around my cock, milking it with a desperate rhythm. A deep, guttural groan rumbles through my chest. Pleasure surges through every nerve as the tension coils, a thick band of pressure tightening low in my gut. My body tenses, my muscles contracting as the edge draws nearer, threatening to drag me into oblivion.

She’s good at this—too good. That Capello bastard trained her well, but I’m not here solely for my pleasure.

“Stop.”

Her fingers still.

I point the knife toward the apex of her thighs. “Sit back on your heels. Open your legs wide. Show me that pretty little cunt.”

Fear flickers over her features, but she obeys and perches on the bed with her legs splayed, revealing her swollen clit and glistening pussy lips.

“Touch yourself, Ginny. Let me watch you debase yourself for a stranger.”

Trembling, she reaches between her legs, her fingers sliding over the slick folds of her pussy. A gasp catches in her throat as she touches her clit, her body shivering. Eyes locked onto mine through the visor, she licks her lips.

“Faster,” I command.

She increases the pace, her fingers slipping and sliding over her soaked flesh. As her beautiful, red hair spills over her glorious tits, I grab a handful and stroke my cock in time with her movements. She’s so beautifully degraded, so willing to submit to my whims.

“Faster,” I order, my own hand moving more urgently.

She obeys, her body trembling as she rubs her clit in frantic circles. Her ragged gasps echo through the dim room, and I wonder how it would feel to bury my cock in her cunt.

Sweat trickles down the side of my face. The muscles in my legs tense as I push forward, my grip on her hair tightening.

“Open your mouth,” I growl.

Her eyes widen, but she obeys.

I guide my cock towards her open mouth, teasing her lips with the tip. “Wider.”

She complies, her jaws parting to accommodate my girth. The sight is intoxicating, her submission infusing my spirit with power.

With a grunt, I thrust into her mouth, feeling the wet heat envelop my shaft. Her tongue moves tentatively at first, then more boldly as I begin to fuck her mouth with increasing intensity. Her eyes water, but she keeps them locked on mine, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“That’s it, little Ginny,” I say, my voice strained. “Take it all.”

Pressure builds, the tension coiling tight in my core. I pull back, withdrawing from her lips, leaving her gasping for air.

“Keep that fucking mouth open.” I stroke my cock faster, the slickness from her tongue and pussy making my hand glide over my shaft like butter.

“Good girl. You’re going to take every drop,” I say, my voice rough with the urge to release.

She stares up at me through wide eyes, her fingers flying over her clit. The pressure behind my balls becomes unbearable, every muscle tightening as I hover on the edge. With a final, guttural moan, I switch the angle of my cock, shooting out powerful jets of cum.

It splatters across her eyes, her cheeks, and her nose. As she screams, I shoot into her parted lips. The rest lands on her breasts, streaking her pale skin with thick, white ropes.

She squeezes her eyes shut and whimpers, looking beautiful with my release dripping down her face. I step back, panting at the sight of Ginevra—utterly debased and covered in my seed.

Her body shakes with silent sobs, tears mixing with the cum on her cheeks. “Please, leave.”

“Look at you,“ I say, my voice breathy with satisfaction. “My filthy, obedient slut.”

I zip up my pants and head to the closet, my steps muffled by the sound of her defeat. Hearing her cry makes my heart soar with a twisted surge of victory. Reaching the door, I pause to spare her one last glance.

She curls into a ball, fragile and trembling—a broken, beautiful mess that’s mine to destroy. My pulse quickens at the thought of what’s to come. I can’t wait to finish her, to watch my beautiful little obsession unravel further under my control.

“Go back to sleep, Ginevra. And be ready for me the next time I call.”

She shudders, her body quaking as if she already knows our next encounter will be worse. Because she’s right.

Despite the hatred, despite her betrayal, I’ll never let her go. She belongs to me now, and I’ll ruin her over and over until there’s nothing left but her submission.