Page 137 of Brutal Revenge

He screws me senseless and I do nothing but scream.

“What else do you love,la mia tigrotta?”

He stuffs his fat cock in deep, then rolls his hips, ending me.

My orgasm is brutal and long, sending shudders wreaking havoc over every inch of me.

“Or should I say,whoelse do you love?”

Sexually satiated beyond comprehension, thoughts I should keep internal stumble out. “You. I love you.”

Chapter 44

Matteo

I’m strutting like a motherfucking peacock. My shoulders are back and my steps are longer as I continually glance at Azra like she’s close to telling me she loves me again.

You. I love you.

My cock almost throbs through releases like when she said it only an hour ago. Her voice was soft and uncertain, as if she were unsure if she was allowed to develop feelings, but I’m so fucking stoked that I’m walking through the lemon orchard like a peacock who won a championship fight.

Azra walks beside me. Her expression is a mix of curiosity and suspicion—her default setting when my arrogance is at its peak.

We’re heading to the gun range behind the grove for her first firearm class.

Halfway through the orchard, Claude spots us. He’s the full-time horticulturist for the orchard, and the only man not related to me by blood who can talk to me like I’m still twelve and get away with it.

He’s standing next to a 4WD utility vehicle, holding pruning shears. A sunhat sits crookedly on his head, matching his trademark wonky grin, when he notices our approach.

He locks eyes with me, then squints as if he’s hallucinating.

“Matteo, you’re early,” he calls out. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play in the orchard during the day. Not since you were a child.”

When his beliefs about why I’ve arrived in the lemon grove smack into me, I groan internally, but Claude keeps talking, stealing the chance to tell him I’m not here for what he thinks.

“I guess it’s lucky I always come prepared.” He hobbles around the vehicle with a grunt and, after wiping his hands on his shorts, reaches into the storage container in the back and pulls out a mask.

Not a beekeeper’s mask or protective gear. It is nothing remotely close to normal. It’s theScreammask from theScreamfranchise. The white Ghostface one.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Claude…”

He shrugs. “I’m due for lunch anyway, so I don’t mind if you kiddos want to play for an hour or two.” He hands me the mask, then shifts to face Azra. “Godspeed, young lady.”

I remind myself that Claude has been around forever. He’s practically family, which means he’s earned the right to do stupid shit without losing teeth.

It takes a beat to calm my frustration enough to speak with words instead of my fists. Claude is already heading toward the driver’s seat of the 4WD, more than happy to disappear from the map for a couple of hours.

Before he can escape, I grab his arm. “Claude. This is my wife, Azra.”

Claude freezes, and his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. He looks at Azra, then at the mask, then back at Azra.

“Wife?”

When I jerk up my chin in confirmation, he snatches the mask out of my hand so fast stitches pop. “Then I guess you can’t help me with the bees today,” he sputters. “Not with your time being occupied by yourwife.” He chokes on the last word like it’s too big to swallow.

I’m just as shocked by how much I love hearing it.

Wife.