Page 34 of Brutal Revenge

“I was fuming.”

“Over?” Azra asks, unconvinced by my excuse.

I hate myself the moment the words leave my mouth, but my humiliation won’t let me hold them back. “That you sent Tuesday packing before I could get my fill.”

Instantly, the concern in her eyes shifts to anarchy, and just as fast, she storms into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her.

Chapter 9

Matteo

Ididn’t sleep. Well, aside from that brief micro-nap I apparently had. It, along with the erotic dream it inspired, has left me feeling more disoriented than rested.It’s understandable. One minute, I was balls-deep inside Azra. The next, she was shaking my shoulder.

I reacted badly. Worse than bad. I snapped at her as if she were to blame for every fucked-up thought circling my head.

Not all of them belong on her shoulders.

Giovanni’s smug, needling taunts about me being “next to fall” and the reminder of how Valentina softened him from a ruthless killer to a family man terrify me that Azra could do the same to me.

The worry won’t quit echoing in my head. He said his taunt with an infuriating grin that made me want to throw something at him, but for some fucked-up reason, it buried itself somewhere I don’t want to examine too closely.

If I dig, shit I’m hesitant to acknowledge might come out. Like how fucking good it felt when I thought Azra had chosen me over Antonio.

Our exchange wasn’t real. It was a dream. A stupid, vivid, treacherous dream. But the barbs it speared into my chest sank so deep thatwaking up to the reality that her plan is still in motion, that she’s still aiming herself toward a dick turd like Antonio Adami, is a bitter pill to swallow.

I hardly know her, but I don’t hesitate in saying she deserves someone better than him.

Me? No. I’m not worthy either.

But surely I’m a rung or two above an Adami.

I condemn myself to hell. Shit like this will get me killed. I shouldn’t be having the thoughts I am.

I am Matteo fucking Caruso.

Your worst nightmare.

I willnotallow a woman to cripple me.

I refuse.

The pillow fort has slumped overnight. It leans to one side, as exhausted from the effort of existing as I am, but still intact enough that I can slip out of bed without disturbing Azra. I move quietly, careful not to let the mattress creak and not to look at her longer than necessary. Her dark hair spills across the pillow, and her breathing is slow and even. The image of her in my bed tightens my chest for reasons I don’t have the patience to unpack.

My head is pounding. Not the pounding Giovanni would joke about. The proper kind that throbs behind my eyes and tilts the world off-center. A long shower will fix it. Or at least dull the pain.

After entering the bathroom, I close the door behind me with a soft click. The tiles are cold beneath my feet, but the mirror is foggy, as if last night’s dream was real. I turn on the water and wait for it to heat up. When it’s semi-respectful, I stand under the spray. Warmth beats against my shoulders and fills the room with steam, drowning out thoughts I am trying to escape.

For a moment, it works. The water acts as a temporary shield against everything clawing at me. But within minutes, the effects fade. I’m too worked up from my dream last night and the way I acted, like Azra rewarding me her virginity was the greatest gift I’d ever received.

I shut my eyes and tip my head back, drowning my groan in a heavy flow of water.

I’m letting my cock control me, and the woman holding the remote wants nothing to do with me.

Now I’m hard enough to cut glass.

Azra’s mouthiness… Ah.I could come now just recalling how her sarcastic wit only dimmed once I buried my cock down her throat.

She plays a good game, but she’s a shit actor when her head is being led by her libido.