Page 64 of Chaos & Carnage
“I’m furious with you, Spitfire,” Enzo snarls, his voice a heady mixture of violence and desire before he claims her lips.
Dipping down, Dante pushes aside the scrap of material covering her breast. Her back arches as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, and Enzo swallows her moan of pleasure.
She breaks off their kiss, turning her head to Oliver, who doesn’t hesitate to replace Enzo’s kiss with his own. “God, Trouble, I was so worried,” he murmurs against her lips when they pull apart, pressing his forehead against hers and staring deep into her eyes.
It’s an oddly intimate moment considering my hands are gripping her inner thighs, Enzo is nuzzling her neck, and Dante is sucking on her nipple. But there’s something about all of us being here together, worshiping our girl like she deserves, that just feels right.
I slide my hands higher until my thumbs brush her apex. I’m momentarily taken aback when I find her bare. A low growl erupts from the back of my throat. “Where the hell are your panties, Red?”
“Really?!” she snaps, frustration bleeding into her tone. “Goddammit, Cain, just fuck me already.”
Furious and not at all done with this conversation, I roughly ram my fingers into her tight cunt, smirking when she cries out at the sudden intrusion. Her spine bends under my ministrations, and Dante releases her nipple with a pop before getting down on one knee.
Dante is not a man who gets on his knees, and despite his possessiveness of Red, the move still surprises me. He’s not someone I ever imagined would lower himself for another person. Who would put himself in a submissive role to cater to someone else's needs—even Red’s. And the fact he’s doing just that, more than anything, shows me just how serious he is about Red. He’s not just possessive of her. Doesn’t want to simply claim her as his. It’s not just about his male ego; he genuinely cares for her.
I watch inquisitively as he gently lifts Red’s leg and places it on his shoulder, kissing along her inner thigh before burying his face in her pussy, uncaring of my fingers still pumping into her tight channel. His lips suck on her clit, rendering a cry from Red’s lips before Oliver covers them with his own, sucking her tongue into his mouth.
The four of us work in tandem until Red is a whimpering, shuddering mess between us.
“Oh god,” she cries, “I’m going to come.”
“Come for us, baby,” I urge. “Let us hear how good you can scream for us.”
With a final, full-body tremble, her pussy squeezes my fingers and she throws her head back against my shoulder, screaming a litany of curses.
Dante laps at her folds as I withdraw my fingers. Although before I can wipe them off on my jeans, Enzo grabs my wrist and brings them to his lips, sucking them into his mouth. “Dude,” I grunt when he moans around my fingers, licking Red’s pleasure off them. It’s a weird as fuck sensation, and we definitely do not know each other well enough for this shit. However, as I see Red’s slack-jawed expression, her pupils dilated with need as she watches, I decide it might be worth the weirdness.
Finished with his feast, Dante gets to his feet, fixing Red’s dress and smoothing out her hair. With a final kiss to her lips, he presses a button behind him and the floor beneath my feet shakes, making me realize that he must have stopped the elevator at some point.
When the doors slide open, we’re all perfectly composed, as if our girl wasn’t just coming all over my fingers and Dante’s tongue, moaning beneath Oliver’s lips and Enzo’s wandering hands.
The weight of everything that has happened tonight washes over me as we step out of the elevator. The guards on either side of the door and standing opposite don’t react. They are standing to attention as though it’s perfectly normal that Dante is walking around carrying his father’s severed head. Maybe to the Antonellis, this type of shitisa regular thing.
“Sir,” the man to the left of the door opposite us greets with a slight decline of his head. “We are at your service.”
Jeez,are all the men around here whipped? I demand respect from my men, but nothing like this. I’m not sure if I like it. On the one hand, I’m happy we don’t have to fight all of them, but on the other, there’s no true loyalty in these men. They’re lackeys who will bow to whoever is in charge. Their reasons for committing themselves to the Antonelli family aren’t because Giovanni earned their allegiance. And neither has Dante.
Dante acknowledges the guard’s words with a nod before holding out his father’s head. “Put this on ice,” he orders, waiting until the guard delicately takes the head—with a surprisingly neutral expression—before stepping past him.
“You want to keep his head?” I question, disgusted. I guess he can have the grotesque thing as a memento so long as he keeps it out of my house. Maybe he can display it on a shelf in his office.
“It could come in handy when dealing with my father’s advisors,” is all he says as he continues on his path across a small lobby. Before I can question him further, Red pulls on his arm, drawing his attention as he slows to a stop.
“Eh, not in there,” she says, her nose wrinkled as she stares at the door. “Giovanni’s body…”
My eyebrows lift, and I definitely want to peek inside, but Dante changes direction, moving to another door. Reluctantly, I follow, more interested in hearing from Red what the hell went down tonight. Besides, Giovanni’s body will still be there when she’s done.
We step into a formal sitting room, and as we spread out on the sofas, all four of us stare at Red expectantly. “Well?” Dante prompts, showing no signs of having been buried between her thighs less than five minutes ago. “We’re dying to hear why you thought it was okay to take on my father alone.”
“And how the hell you managed to chop off his head,” Enzo adds, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.
“And then you can apologize for scaring the shit out of us,” I finish, locking eyes with her so she can see the heat flaring in their depths that match the hard length pressing against my zipper.
Chapter 23
I quickly rehash my fortuitous quest to get to Giovanni, careful to make it all sound less haphazard and more like I’d come here with a plan. When I reach the part about playing coy with Giovanni in order to get the opening I needed to strike, I intend to brush over most of it. Except each of them asks a million-and-one questions until I’m forced to tell them everything.
“God, I want to kill him all over again,” Cain snarls, pacing back and forth on his feet. “That sick fucking scumbag!”