BLOOD ON HIS COCK

CHAPTER FOUR

ROSARIE

Pain.

Not the sharp little sting the books always lied about when having sex. Not the pretty gasp and the soft “oh” and the sudden magic. This was tearing, utterly raw like someone had taken a blade to the softest part of me and dragged it open without warning.

I whimpered. The sound cracked out of me before I could swallow it, high and broken, and I hated myself for it.

Kyliano’s voice cut through the thick air of the car, strained, low, almost shaking with something I couldn’t name.

“I’m asking you a question, Rosarie.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Tears slid hot and fast down my temples, soaking into the leather under my cheek. My body was still open around him, still stretched around the thick, unforgiving length of him, and every tiny shift made the burn worse. The high was gone. The reckless fire that had pushed me into this car, into this lie, into this man, had burned itself out and left only the ashes of what I’d done.

I had given him the one thing my family and the Russos both claimed ownership over. And now it was gone. Ruined. On the back seat of the future Don’s car while my future husband slept somewhere in the east wing, completely unaware.

Kyliano’s breath left him in a rough exhale. I felt him start to pull back, felt the thick slide of him leaving me, felt the sudden empty ache that made another tear slip free.

“Don’t.” The word tore out of me before I could stop it. I twisted, one hand flying back, fingers locking around his wrist hard enough to bruise.

“Don’t you dare leave like that.”

His body went still above me. “Rosarie—”

“You took it.” My voice cracked, raw and ugly. “You took my virginity. You felt the blood. You felt how tight I was. You know exactly what you did. And you don’t get to just pull out and walk away like I’m some mistake you can wipe off your cock.”

“Jesus Christ—” He hissed.

“I won’t have my first time half-assed.” I shoved my hips back against him, deliberate, desperate, feeling the wet drag of blood and the thick head of him still pressed against me. “Finish what you started. You don’t get to break me open and then leave me aching. You don’t get to decide this is over just because the truth is messy. Finish it.”

Silence occured. His chest rose and fell against my back in sharp, controlled breaths.

“You lied to me,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You looked me in the eye and told me you’d been fucked every weekend by some stranger who made you come so hard you forgot your name. You said your virginity was already taken. You told me I was soft. Weak. That I didn’t have the balls to take what I wanted.”

“Because if I told you the truth you would have stopped.” Another tear slid free. I didn’t wipe it. “You wouldn't have done this. You would have put me back in my place like a good little heir who respects family tradition. And I couldn’t risk that. Not after you caught me. Not after you dragged me out of that club. I knew the second you put me in this car that every eye in the mansion would be on me. I would be watched like a hawk. No more chances and definitely no more strangers. You were the last door left open and I kicked it in.”

His hand flexed on my hip. “You should have told me.”

“And then what? You’d have been gentle? You’d have kissed me softly and whispered sweet things while you took it slow?” A broken, bitter laugh escaped me. “No. You would have left me untouched and delivered me to Angelo with the blood still waiting for the wedding night. I couldn’t let that happen. So I lied. And you believed me. And now you’re inside me and it hurts and I’m still telling you to finish it because I refuse to walk out of this car with the memory of only pain.”

He stayed silent for a long, vibrating second. Then I felt him shift, felt the thick, hard length of him press forward again, slow, testing.

“You want me to finish,” he said, voice rough. “Even knowing what this means. Even knowing who you belong to.”

“I want you to fuck me like you meant every threat you made.” I reached back blindly, fingers brushing the slick, hot length of him, nudging him deliberately. “I want the man who slammed me down and told me to sit still and take what he decides to give. Not the man who’s hesitating because there’s blood on his cock. Finish it, Kyliano. Or I swear to God I’ll climb out of this car and find someone else who will.”

A low, almost feral sound left his throat. His hand slid under me, palm spreading wide over my stomach, holding me still as he pushed forward again deeper this time, steady, relentless, until he was buried to the hilt and a broken whimper tore out of me.

“Fuck,” he growled against the back of my neck. “You’re still so tight it hurts. Listen to me. Breathe. Don’t fight it. Let me in.”

“It burns—” I whimper sobbed.

“I know. Feel me. Right there.” His hips rolled in a slow, deep circle, grinding against something that made the pain flicker into something sharper, hotter. “That’s the spot that turns the burn into something else. Feel it?”

A broken sound left me. My fingers clawed at the leather. “Yes—”

“Good girl. Now when I pull out, you stay open for me. Don’t clamp down. Let me feel every inch.”

He drew back almost all the way, the thick drag of him making me shake, then drove in again—harder, deeper, the wet sound of blood and slick filling the quiet car. My moan cracked open, raw and loud.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice dark and low against my ear. “That’s the sound I want. Not the whimper. The real one. The one that means you’re starting to feel it instead of just surviving it.”

“Kyliano—” I moaned in a raspy voice.

“Say my name like that again and I’ll teach you how to take it harder.” His hand slid higher, cupping my breast through the thin black dress, thumb dragging over the tight peak. “You wanted the full experience. You wanted it unfinished? Then listen. Pain and pleasure live in the same place. You don’t get one without the other.”

He thrust again, deep, measured, the rhythm building slow and filthy. Every stroke stretched me wider, every grind of his hips against mine sent sparks racing up my spine until the burn started melting into heat, into something that made my thighs tremble and my breath come in short, broken gasps.

“Feel that?” His voice was rough now, almost strained. “That’s your body learning. That’s the pain turning into something you can ride. Clench around me. Right now. Let me feel how much you want it.”

I did. The tight pulse of my body around him dragged a low curse from his throat. He answered with a harder thrust, hips snapping forward, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the car.

“Fuck—yes. Just like that. You’re taking me so well for someone who was crying two minutes ago.” His hand left my breast, sliding down between my legs, fingers finding the swollen, sensitive place above where we were joined. He circled once, twice, and my whole body jerked.

“Oh god—” My moans got louder.

“There it is. That’s the mix. Pain from how deep I am. Pleasure from right here.” His fingers moved in tight, perfect circles while his cock drove into me again and again, the rhythm turning relentless. “You’re going to come on me with my cock buried in the virgin cunt you tried so hard to give away to a stranger. Look at you. Shaking. Moaning. Taking every inch like you were made for it.”

A broken, helpless moan spilled out of me. The pressure was building fast, too fast, the sharp edge of pain completely swallowed by the heat coiling low and tight.

“That’s one,” he growled, thrusting harder as the first orgasm ripped through me, sharp and sudden, my body clamping down around him while I cried out against the seat. “Good. Now stay with me. We’re not done. You’re going to feel the second one. And the third. I’m going to teach you how to come while it still hurts a little. While you’re still stretched open and bleeding on my cock.”

He didn’t slow. He fucked me through the aftershocks, deep and filthy, one hand pinning my wrists above my head again, the other still working between my legs until the second wave hit harder than the first, dragging a long, shattered moan from my throat.

“Listen to you,” he murmured, almost darkly pleased. “Crying and coming and still pushing back for more. That’s the real Rosarie. Not the quiet little maid. This one. The one who steals and lies and demands to be fucked properly.”

I was shaking, oversensitive, the third climax already building like a storm under my skin when his phone started ringing on the seat beside us.

He ignored it and drove into me harder, the wet sound of us obscene in the confined space.

It rang again.

He cursed under his breath, hips still moving, still deep, still grinding against the exact place that made my vision blur.

“Kyliano—” I gasped, the third orgasm right there, right on the edge, my body tightening around him again.

A sharp tap sounded against the car door.

Then a voice, low and unmistakably cold cut through the tinted glass like a blade.

“You’ll have more time with your whore later, Kyliano. Open the door. We needed to talk.”

Everything stopped.

Kyliano’s body locked above mine. My own froze, heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Through the dark glass I could see the outline of the man standing outside. Broad shoulders. Tailored suit. The sharp, lethal profile of Angelo Russo, my future husband standing less than two feet away while his cousin was still buried balls deep inside me.

Shit.

I was supposed to panic, perhaps duck and pray the tinted glass held and the door stayed locked and Angelo never found out that the virgin bride he’d been promised was currently coming apart on another man’s cock.

Instead the sheer, terrifying wrongness of it, the risk, the danger, the fact that Angelo was right there sent the third orgasm crashing through me so hard I couldn’t stop the broken, helpless whimper that tore out of my throat as I came around Kyliano, body shaking, tears still wet on my face, the future Don still buried to the hilt inside me while my future husband waited on the other side of the glass.