Chapter Nine
Enzo's POV
Going into the shower to wash off immediately after making sure Nina was in his room lying down in the bed. He was quiet and didn't say a word.
He looked shocked to the bone at the blood after killing off the intruders sent by their rival mafia gang.
He was so angry that he came out and took vodka but his blood was still boiling, he tried smoking but nothing was working and to make matters worse the picture of
Nina's nipples piercing through the thin shirt he was wearing was not making it easy. He picked up his phone and called Shasha, a musician whom has the perfect BBL body. He knew that he can't touch Nina, he was supposed to protect him.
Shasha let him know when she got there and he went down to the guest room to meet her because he never allows girls up to his room.
They didn't even say hello and went into action when they met each other, kissing and making out passionately before having rough raw sex and to make matters worse
Enzo only cummed when he imagined Nina's face, his god damn nipples and those smart lips driving him crazy.
The guest-room door shut with a soft click, sealing Enzo inside with Shasha.
No words, no pretense. The air between them crackled the instant their eyes locked.
She wore a crimson silk slip that clung to every surgically sculpted curve, the hem barely grazing the tops of her thighs.
Her skin glowed under the low amber light of the bedside lamp, warm bronze and flawless, the kind of body that turned heads in clubs and made men forget their names. Enzo's pulse hammered in his throat, but it wasn't for her. Not really.
He crossed the room in three strides, hands already fisting in her hair.
Shasha gasped, arching into him, her manicured nails scraping down his bare chest. Their mouths collided hard, hungry, no room for gentleness.
Tongues tangled, teeth clashed. She tasted like cherry gloss and top-shelf gin, but all Enzo could think about was the faint trace of his own soap still clinging to Nina's skin upstairs.
The memory of those dark, pebbled nipples pressing against damp cotton. The way Nina's lips had parted in shock, soft and pink and untouched.
Shasha moaned into his mouth, grinding her hips against the rigid line of his cock straining through his sweatpants. Enzo growled, low and feral, spinning her around and shoving her face-first against the wall.
The silk slip rode up, exposing the perfect, rounded swell of her ass high, firm, the result of hours under a surgeon's knife.
He palmed it roughly, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave marks. She pushed back, whimpering, begging without words.
"Enzo," she breathed, voice husky from the stage lights and late nights. "Fuck me. Now."
He didn't need to be told twice. One hand yanked the slip over her head, tossing it aside. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.
Her back arched, spine a graceful curve, the dimples above her ass begging to be licked. He dropped to his knees, spreading her open with his thumbs.
She was already slick, glistening under the light, the scent of her arousal sharp and sweet. He dragged his tongue up her slit in one slow, deliberate lick, savoring the way she shuddered and clenched. Another lick, deeper this time, circling her clit with the flat of his tongue until her thighs trembled.
"God, yes …mmm" Shasha's hands slapped the wall, nails scratching paint. He sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking it mercilessly, two fingers sliding inside her without warning. She was tight, hot, clenching around him like a vice.
He pumped them in and out, curling to hit that spot that made her sob his name. Her juices coated his fingers, dripping down his wrist. He added a third, stretching her, scissoring roughly while his mouth worked her over.
But in his mind, it wasn't Shasha's moans echoing in the room. It was Nina's. Nina's slim hips bucking against his face. Nina's delicate fingers tangled in his hair instead of Shasha's acrylics.
Nina's shy, breathless gasps as he devoured him like a starving man.
Enzo surged to his feet, shoving his sweatpants down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the head already slick with precome. Shasha glanced over her shoulder, eyes glazed with lust, and licked her lips. "Give it to me."
He didn't wait. One brutal thrust and he was buried to the hilt, her pussy swallowing him whole. She cried out, the sound raw and broken, her walls fluttering around his length. He gripped her hips, fingers bruising, and set a punishing rhythm.
The slap of skin on skin filled the room, obscene and wet. Her ass bounced with every thrust, rippling like waves, the sight filthy and perfect. He watched himself disappear into her again and again, the way her back bowed, the way her toes curled against the hardwood.
"Harder," she gasped, pushing back to meet him. "Fuck me like you mean it."
He did. He fucked her like he wanted to erase the memory of Nina's wide, shocked eyes. Like he could pound the image of those nipples out of his skull.
His hand snaked around her waist, finding her clit, rubbing tight circles until she was shaking, babbling nonsense. Her pussy clenched, spasming, and she came with a scream that echoed off the walls, her body milking him.
But he wasn't there yet. Not even close.
He pulled out, spinning her around and lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back.
He slammed her against the wall again, driving back inside in one smooth stroke. Her tits bounced with every thrust, full and fake and perfect, nipples hard as diamonds.
He sucked one into his mouth, biting down just enough to make her yelp, then soothed it with his tongue. She clawed at his shoulders, leaving red trails, her head thrown back, throat exposed.
"Look at me," he snarled, voice gravel and smoke.
Her eyes fluttered open, dark and dilated. But as he stared into them, it wasn't Shasha's face he saw. It was Nina's. Nina's flushed cheeks.
Nina's parted lips. Nina's nipples those goddamn nipples straining against wet cotton, begging to be pinched, twisted, sucked until he cried.
The fantasy shattered something inside him. He fucked Shasha harder, faster, the headboard slamming against the wall in a brutal staccato.
Her second orgasm hit like a freight train, her pussy clamping down so tight he saw stars. She screamed his name, nails raking his back, but it was Nina's voice he heard. Nina's body he felt clenching around him. Nina's smart, defiant mouth he wanted to claim.
Enzo's balls drew up tight, the pressure unbearable. He buried his face in Shasha's neck, teeth sinking into her shoulder to muffle the groan tearing from his throat.
He came with a violence that left him blind, hips jerking erratically as he spilled inside her, pulse after pulse of hot release.
But it was Nina's face behind his closed eyes. Nina's nipples. Nina's lips those clever, maddening lips whispering his name like a prayer.
He stayed inside her, chest heaving, sweat cooling on his skin. Shasha slumped against him, boneless and sated, her breath hot against his ear. "Damn, Enzo," she murmured, tracing lazy circles on his back. "Are you trying to kill me?"
He didn't answer. Couldn't. The guilt crashed over him like ice water, but beneath it, the hunger still burned. He pulled out slowly, watching his come drip down her thighs, marking her.
She'd leave in the morning, none the wiser. But he'd still be here, hard again by dawn, haunted by the boy upstairs who was never supposed to be his.
Shasha kissed his jaw, oblivious. "Round two in the shower?"
He forced a smirk, the mask sliding back into place. "Give me five."
But as she sauntered toward the bathroom, hips swaying, all he could see was Nina's silhouette in the doorway upstairs, wrapped in his robe, eyes wide and knowing.