Vicious Hearts: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

I gasp, choking on my breath as Cillian slams me against the bedroom wall. For a moment, as he kisses me, I’m worried that what he knows now about that first night at the club will change how he looks at me.

How he touches me.

That he’ll…temper himself or hold himself back somehow with me. Like he’s afraid of breaking me now.

“Don’t…”

He pulls away, frowning as the word slips from my lips.

“Don’t hold back,” I breathe. “I want you to do your worst.”

A dark, malevolent energy tingles over my skin the second I say it. And when I see the almost supernatural, demonic look blaze in Cillian’s eyes, I know I’m pushing him past his breaking point, into that dark place he goes when he loses control.

Good. I want him to lose control.

Because even if the last supposedly normal fragments of my psyche are screaming at me, asking me if I’m truly insane and if I really understand what I’m doing, I can’t stop.

I don’t want to stop.

Because that vicious part of me that I’ve hidden, and been afraid of, and ashamed of for so fucking long comes alive when he touches me. When he kisses me like he’s conquering me.

When he pushes me right up to the line of my own hesitation and then shoves me headlong over it, screaming in hedonistic pleasure.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

I whimper, desperate for him. “Yes.”

His hand instantly wraps tightly around my throat, pinning me to the wall.

“What did you just fucking say to me?”

For a second, real fear slices into me when I see the way his face changes. Something ripples just under the surface. His eyes dim to a dark, murky green void. His lips curl into an animalistic snarl and despite the alarm bells blaring in my head, all I’m aware of is how fucking wet I am.

How much I want this, all of this, even though I’ve hidden it away sometimes even from myself.

But there’s no hiding anything from Cillian. There hasn’t been since that first moment I felt his presence against my back in the club, like a black hole, sucking me into the void and never letting me go.

Into a darkness that matches my own. Sending me hurtling toward a monster that sees the ways I’m broken and wants to consume me, and claim me, and fuck me in the wreckage.

A psychopath who sees the true depths of my depravity and wants to join me there.

And even though he’s looking at me like he wants to sink his teeth into my skin and literally eat me alive, it’s not that I’m afraid he’ll hurt me…

It’s that I know he will.

And I know I want him to.

“I—”

“I fucking asked you a question. Are you going to be a good little fuck-toy slut for me?”

His hand tightens abruptly.

I’m so turned on, there’s a chance I’m going to come before he even takes my clothes off.

“Yes!” I choke, shuddering in pleasure. “Yes, Sir!”

“Maybe,” Cillian rumbles, his voice so much lower than it usually is, as if the monster inside has truly been set free. “Maybe I should tie you on your hands and knees to a bench and choke you while your virgin ass swallows every last inch of my cock.”

Heat explodes across my face as I stare at him, wide eyes, mouth open.

He knows. He saw my web history, because of course he looked.

“This is what you wanted that night at Venom, isn’t it,” he snarls close to my face. His hand tightens just a little more on my throat, and I whimper as I feel the thickness of his cock pulsing hard against my core as my legs wrap around his hips.

“To be my eager little fuck toy. My greedy little slut.”

I whimper, gasping as Cillian suddenly whirls and storms across the bedroom floor.

Tosses me face-down on the bed.

And suddenly grabs my leggings and my panties and roughly yanks them down over my hips to tangle at my knees. I whimper and try to turn over. But then I’m gasping as Cillian grabs a fistful of my hair at the scalp, pinning me down. His palm comes down sharply on my bare ass, making me squeal as the sound fills the bedroom.

He does it again, and then again, before suddenly his hand dives between my thighs to cup my dripping wet pussy.

“Bad girl.”

I moan when he rasps the words into my ear.

“Such a greedy, eager little fuck-toy that you’re making a fucking puddle on my bed with this messy, greedy little pussy.”

He drags a finger through my lips, and then suddenly, without any warning, two of his fingers ram deep inside of me.

Holy fuck yes.

I cry out, my body rippling with pleasure as Cillian curls his fingers deep. He drags them out only to roughly drive them right back in, making my toes curl as I whimper. He’s still fingering me hard like that, when I hear the skin-jangling sound of a blade opening.

“What are—”

I yelp when he spanks my ass again before ramming his fingers right back into me. There’s the sensation of a blade at the back of my neck, and I go rigid as that naked, true fear mixed with fucked-up desire from before hisses like acid over my skin.

But he’s not cutting me. The blade doesn’t even nick me.

He’s cutting my fucking clothes off.

I jolt, gasping as Cillian violently slices through my shirt and my bra, turning them into ribbons that he yanks from me and tosses aside. His fingers still churn inside of me, filling the room with lewd wet slurping sounds as I shudder and shake with pleasure.

The knife slices with surgical sharpness through the leggings and panties at my knees, and then those too get tossed aside.

I gasp as he suddenly and roughly flips me onto my back. I flush as he yanks his black shirt off, and my eyes slide over his body.

I mean holy shit.

The man is forty-one, with the physique of a guy half his age who plays professional sports. Broad, bulging muscles, powerful arms, a rock-hard chest, and abs that turn into those grooves on his hips you only see on Armani models.

And a dick…

Sweet Jesus…

I mean I’ve seen him before. And of course, that first night, when I felt him pounding into me .

But this time, I’m staring right at him: every. Single. Thick. Inch. Of. Him.

If he hadn’t been inside me before, I’d swear there was no way that cock would fit inside any human woman at all, let alone me, as tiny as I am.

But it has. Viciously. Brutally. Painfully, but in the most toe-curling way that had me exploding from one fucking thrust.

He stalks toward where I’m sprawled on the bed.

He still has the knife in his hand.

I start to back away on the bed. That is, until he roughly grabs an ankle and yanks me to the edge. I try to close my legs, but Cillian growls, shaking his head.

“No no, little toy,” he rasps dangerously, with an equally lethal glint in his eyes. He brings the knife forward, and I shiver, my breath catching as he suddenly drags the tip of it up my inner thigh.

Oh my fucking God…

He’s not cutting me, or even breaking the skin at all. But the intoxicating sensation of that edge teasing so dangerously over my skin, dragging higher and higher like he’s actually going to keep going until he gets to my pussy has my brain short circuiting.

Fear versus lust.

Danger versus need.

The urge to run versus the overwhelming desire to be pinned down and fucked within an inch of my life.

Cillian moves between my thighs, which open for him without me even realizing it. He slides onto the bed, looming over me, his hips nudging my thighs open even wider as the blade traces up over my body. Over my stomach, my ribs, my nipples, making my breath choke as I stare at the lethal tip with delirium.

Then it moves to my throat.

His eyes go black.

My body contorts with pure, undiluted fear.

And that’s exactly when he thrusts every inch of his enormous cock balls deep inside of me.

I scream, clenching and writhing desperately as my body adjusts to the sheer size of him. He growls, tracing the point of the blade over my jugular as he pulls his hips back until just the swollen head of him is still stretching me open.

His black-green eyes stab into me, as sharp as the blade in his hand against my neck.

He’s insane.

For a second, the thought curls into the edges of my consciousness so viciously that I wince. I’ve been casually referring to this dark, dangerous man as a psychopath without truly absorbing what that means.

He’s a fucking literal psychopath.

Devoid of feelings. Cold. Brutal. Domineeringly self-serving.

Bloodthirsty.

But then, Cillian drives into me again, crushing the air from my lungs as his cock fills me to the absolute breaking point, and I don’t care. His mouth crushes to mine, biting and sucking on my lips as I moan louder and louder. Because the more he fucks me with reckless abandon, the more brutally hard his strokes…

The wetter I get.

The more my body ignites, and every single hidden kink of mine is laid bare.

The more I want him to do whatever the fuck he wants to me, as hard as he wants.

Cillian snarls, dancing the blade over my jugular before he suddenly flings it across the room. His hand wraps around my throat, squeezing and making me moan even louder as he rams his huge cock into me over and over.

My arms wrap around him. Suddenly, he’s shoving them above my head and pinning them there with one powerful hand, the other still around my throat as his muscled, coiled body rolls into me. As his cock rams into me so deep I swear he’s in my fucking throat.

“Is this what you craved that night, little rabbit?” he snarls into my ear. “To be used and abused, to be pinned down and fucked like an eager little toy? To have this tight little cunt torn apart and punished in the way I know you crave?”

My eyes roll back in my head. Black spots swim in the periphery of my vision as I let loose a sound that might not even be human.

He roughly slides out of me. Before I can even react, he’s flipping me over so I’m lying face down, flat on the bed. I moan when his body covers mine, his knee shoving my legs open before suddenly, I can feel his fat cock dragging up my lips.

He grabs a fistful of my hair, shoving my arms above my head and holding them there before he suddenly rams into me with full force. I scream, writhing and moaning on the bed as he fucks the absolute shit out of me.

Like a toy to be used.

A slut with no limits.

Just holes to fill.

I shudder when his teeth bite down on the lobe of my ear.

“Stop. Fucking. Holding. Out,” he snarls. “Don’t you fucking try and hide it, little rabbit. Don’t you fucking try and keep it at bay.”

I cry out as his hand leaves my neck and spanks my ass so fucking hard it involuntarily makes my pussy clamp down around his dick as my nipples drag electrically across the duvet.

“And don’t you fucking dare keep that orgasm from me.”

His thickness pistons into me. His palm spanks my ass raw before it comes up to wrap around my throat again. His fist in my hair tightens along with the one around my windpipe until suddenly, everything goes blurry.

Fear and lust.

Danger and need.

And the overwhelming sensation that I’m about to come so fucking hard it might actually kill me.

“Come for me like a good girl, just like you did on the night your ruined virginity bled all over my cock.”

Fuck. Me.

When I come, everything goes black. I’m only vaguely aware of writhing on the bed, as if in a fever dream. Of screaming and making other sounds that don’t sound human. Of my entire world shattering and exploding around me as Cillian rams his cock deep, flooding my insides with what feels like gallons of his hot cum.

I have no idea how long we stay like that, both of us shuddering from our desperate inhalations of air. Slowly, I feel him slipping out of me, and I wince a little.

This is going to hurt later.

SO fucking worth it.

I’m dimly aware of Cillian moving me up further on the bed. Of collapsing into the pillows as I feel his weight settling next to me. Slowly, I raise my head.

His eyes are still that dark, almost black green, swirling with lethal desire.

He’s still rock fucking hard.

I whimper, biting my lip as my gaze drops to his cock.

“You’re…you’re still so hard.”

When he growls, I shiver as my eyes slide up to his.

“You’re still so hard, Sir.”

I moan, shuddering as he suddenly sits up, grabbing a fist of my hair and slamming his mouth to mine.

“And what does my good girl think should we do about that?”

“Anything you want, Sir,” I whimper, shivering in anticipation when I see the darkness flare in his eyes.

“I want you to clean it with your tongue.”

I stiffen.

“Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees,” he rasps, ripping a gasp from my throat as he tightens his grip in my hair.

You can do this. It’s fine.

It’s not HIM.

But the alarm bells suddenly blaring in my head as I slowly allow him to guide me between his legs aren’t the erotic ones I get whenever the thrill of this monster sends my adrenaline spiking.

These ones are from my past.

These ones are from a time I wish I could never remember again.

Now, who’s going to give me a back rub? Which of you wants to help me feel better today?

The room goes dark at the edges, and red miasma starts to cloud my vision.

“Una.”

My eyes roll back as every part of me shuts down and goes catatonic and numb.

“UNA!”

Everything fades.