Isaia: Chapter 23

It’s the blood that hits me first.

The sight of it on my cock as I draw out of her, the red trails painted over her creamy thighs.

I did that. I made her bleed because I was her first. The sight is intoxicating, a fierce blend of purity and sin. Her body, laid out bare beneath me, twitching subtly with each echoing aftershock of what I’d unleashed in her.

A carnal satisfaction thrums in the pit of my stomach, a claiming that is all at once animalistic and abhorrent, but it’s mine. She’s mine in a way she’s never been to anyone, in a way she’ll never be to another. Just me. Always just me.

With her blood and my cum marking her, it’s done—I’ve claimed her, a red-hot brand of possession, and that’s not changing. Everly Beaumont belongs to me, and nothing in Hell or Earth will touch what I’ve made mine.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.” Her cheeks flush with a deeper red.

“Describe it. The pain.”

“Isaia.” She tilts her head to the side, her gaze slipping away from mine, a hint of shyness softening her features.

“Hey.” I grip her chin, tilting her face until those eyes lock on mine. “First rule of being my woman. Don’t ever—ever—be shy. Not with me. Not with anyone.”

She licks her lips. “I’m your woman now?”

I reach between her thighs, easing two fingers through her creamed cunt. She flinches, a soft mewl escaping from her bitten-down lips.

“This—” I show her the blood on my fingers, mixed with cum, “—this says you are.”

“Oh, my God.” Her eyes flash with panic. Horrified. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think…Jesus. This is so embarrassing.”

She tries to move from under me, but I grab her arm and pull her back.

“Embarrassing? You think your blood coating my cock is…embarrassing?” I lean down, bringing my lips inches from hers. “Baby, it’s fucking beautiful. It’s proof that you’re mine.”

I nip at her tender, bitten lip, causing her to suck in a breath. I revel in her reactions. There’s a fire inside her; I know it. We’ve only unearthed the embers, and I can’t wait to stoke it into an inferno.

She trembles against me as I drag my lips down the curve of her throat. “Now, describe it. The pain.”

“It’s… different now,” she says softly, almost unsure. “There’s this dull ache, but it’s not just pain. It’s this deep soreness, like my body’s reminding me exactly where you’ve been.”

My cock stirs, slowly hardening again, and I cup her breast, lapping my tongue around her pebbled nipple. She squirms beneath me, her body sensitive to the slightest touch. “Go on.”

Her breathing slows, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

“There’s this throbbing pressure between my legs like my body’s still trying to adjust to the way you stretched me.” Her hand moves tentatively to her lower stomach, pressing lightly. “Even here… I can feel it. It’s overwhelming.” Her cheeks flush with both embarrassment and desire. “And I don’t want it to stop.”

She doesn’t even realize it, but she’s giving herself to me with every syllable, every shaky breath. And fuck, it’s intoxicating. I can’t help the growl that slips past my lips, a primitive sound that has her shivering.

Every word she speaks, the sensual cadence of her voice as she describes what she’s feeling, ignites a flame within me that borders on madness. It’s a raw, unrelenting heat clawing its way through my veins, demanding more. But beneath that fire, another feeling simmers—darker, deeper.

Ownership.

“I love knowing that it hurts.” I shift, grinding my hips just enough to smear more of her blood over my cock. “It needs to hurt for you to remember.”

Her gaze flickers up to meet mine, hesitant, but there’s a new kind of vulnerability in her eyes—one that begs to be understood. “Remember what?”

“That you’re mine.”

I kiss her, a slow brush of lips, a languid sweep of tongues, a sensual mix of breaths. My cock hardens, and the need to fuck her starts to pulse again—strong and demanding.

I lift as I reach between us. “I need to be inside you again.”

She tenses as my cock nudges at her entrance. “Isaia, it hurts.”

“I know, baby. But I need to feel you.” I give her just the tip. “Say you can take me one more time.”

She arches so fucking beautifully, and I slide an arm underneath her body, keeping her there, her neck craned back.

“After this, I’ll let your body heal before I fuck you again.”

“Okay,” she whimpers, and I’m so fucking turned on, I can come with just the head of my cock pressed against her wet cunt.

“That’s my girl.” I bite into my lower lip as I sink inside her, sliding my cock along her walls, feeling the tight, velvety heat that clings to me like she’s trying to pull me deeper.

Every inch of her grips me, soft and slick, a perfect, agonizing friction that makes my head spin.

“Fuck, Everly. The way you feel, the way you take me…I’m fucking obsessed with this. With you.”

Her warmth surrounds me, trembling and raw, her body still adjusting, her walls fluttering around my cock like she’s not sure whether to push me out or keep me locked inside. It’s heaven and hell, and I never want to leave.

“Am I hurting you?”

“A little,” she breathes. “But I can handle it.”

“Fuck,” I groan. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” And honestly, neither do I.

Our bodies move as one, seamless and fluid, like the flow of water—natural, inevitable, unstoppable. And I swear to God, I can feel this woman taking over my soul, one deep slide at a time.

I brace myself above her, hands planted on either side of her trembling frame, my gaze locking on the place where we’re joined.

My sanity takes a nosedive as I watch my cock slide into her, her pussy swallowing me inch by inch, then I pull out, and my shaft glistens, slick and streaked with the red of her virginity.

It’s a fucking masterpiece of sin and surrender. I’ve never been this undone—like she’s rewired every goddamn circuit in my brain.

Ten minutes ago, I buried myself so deep in her I lost my mind, and yet, I’m ready to fill her up again. No woman has ever brought me to my knees the way she does, and it’s as maddening as it is intoxicating.

“I need you to come for me again.” My arms tremble as I lower myself, pressing my lips to the delicate curve of her throat, feeling the rapid pulse of her heartbeat beneath my tongue.

“It’s too much,” she gasps, followed by a fragile whimper. “I can’t…”

“Rule number two,” I murmur darkly, sliding my hand between us. “You come every fucking time I tell you to.”

I press my thumb to her swollen clit, circling, applying just the right amount of pressure. Her body reacts immediately, jerking against me, her hot, drenched cunt tightening around my cock. She’s teetering on the edge, and I won’t stop until she falls—until I’ve dragged her into another wave of pleasure that has her begging for mercy.

Her face contorts, caught between pain and bliss, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Beads of sweat glisten on her flushed skin, her lips parting as she lets out a choked cry.

She’s fucking beautiful like this—wholly unraveled, lost in the euphoria only I can give her.

“That’s it,” I whisper, increasing the pace, my cock driving deeper with every thrust. “Show me how good you take me. How good my cock makes you feel.”

Her climax hits like a storm, her cries filling the room as she arches beneath me, every muscle trembling, her pussy gripping my cock, relentless and consuming.

“Fuck,” I grit out, my rhythm faltering as her orgasm pulls me under. The tight, pulsing heat of her body is too much, too perfect, dragging me into pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

Her nails dig into my back, and the sharp sting only fuels the fire raging in my veins. I’m right there with her, the heat coiling low in my stomach, ready to snap.

“Jesus, Everly. You’re gonna make me come so fucking hard.”

One last thrust, deep and unyielding, and I break. My release shatters me, tearing through my body like fire, every pulse of my cock fusing us in a way that feels irrevocable, elemental.

I groan her name like a prayer, my body trembling as the aftershocks ripple through us both.

As we collapse together, my hand still gripping her hip, her skin flushed and damp, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and bliss, I trace a thumb over her cheek.

“You’ll never escape me, baby,” I rasp, my lips brushing her ear. “Even if you wanted to, I’d burn this entire fucking world to keep you.”

She lets out a soft, almost incredulous laugh, her fingers brushing against my jaw as if she’s trying to memorize the shape of me. “Is that your version of pillow talk? Threats and arson?”

A low chuckle fills my chest, but the darkness in me doesn’t fade. My hand moves to her throat, applying the slightest pressure. “It’s not a threat, troublemaker. It’s a promise.” My thumb traces her bottom lip, swollen and bitten from the way she cried my name. “I’d destroy anything—anyone—for you.”

She swallows hard, her teasing facade cracking just enough for me to see the flicker of vulnerability beneath it. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Oh, baby,” I brush my lips over hers in a slow, possessive kiss, “you haven’t begun to see the level of insane I am for you.”

The way she bites her bottom lip, those beautiful imperfect irises studying me, staring at me like she knows—she knows I fucking own her…and she likes it.

“I need a shower,” she says softly, and I lean down, cupping her perfect tit in my palm, dragging my nose over her pebbled nipple, inhaling deep.

“But I like the smell of sex on you.” I smirk when I hear the soft whimper she doesn’t mean to let slip, and I move down her body, pressing the tip of my nose just above her slit. “And I fucking love the scent of my cum leaking out your cunt.”

She squirms. “Isaia, you need to stop.” She’s breathless. “Because I really can’t take any more. Not tonight.”

Not tonight. It’s a promise of more…so much more.

I lean back on my haunches, staring down her naked body, her thighs slick and sticky. Beautiful.

“Then you better go now before I decide to fuck you again,” I drag my finger through her creamed slit, loving her gentle mewls, “no matter how much it fucking hurts. Now, go.” I slap her ass, and she chuckles as she clambers off the bed. It takes every ounce of control not to pull her back, or to follow her just so I can have my way with her again.

I could so fuck her again. But I’m not a complete monster. Okay, maybe I am, but I know her body will be accustomed to getting fucked really, really soon—and when it is, she’s going to beg me for mercy.

I fall back on the pillows, settling with my arm behind my head. It’s not the first time I’m in her bedroom. Last time I was here she had my cock in her mouth. Tonight, she had my cock in her pussy, and Jesus, I want to give it to her again and again.

I hear the shower start to run.

Why do I hate the fact that she’ll be washing me off her?

I want my touch, my spit, my cum, everything on her at all fucking times. And I want Anthony to see it. I want him to watch as my cum drips down her chin, down her thighs, leaking out of her tight little cunt.

Fuck. This woman is a brand on my soul. A relentless, burning scar I never want healed. Everything about her—her scent, her taste, the way she cries my name like a prayer and a curse—owns me in ways I didn’t think possible.

I should be leaving, giving her space, but the idea of walking out that door while she’s washing me off her body twists something savage in me.

I move to the edge of her bed, my chest heaving as the possessiveness courses through me. The image of her under that spray, her hands trailing over her skin, scrubbing at the evidence of us—it’s unbearable. I want to rush into that bathroom, press her against the cold tile, and come all over her again.

The storm inside me doesn’t settle as I pace her room, my mind warring with the need to let her have this moment and the darker desire to claim her all over again.

I glance around, trying to ground myself, but instead, I’m pulled deeper into her world.

This space—her space—is her, in every detail. It feels untouched by the chaos of the outside, a sanctuary she’s carved out of a life I’ve now bulldozed into. It’s all her, soft, with an edge that doesn’t beg for attention but can’t be ignored.

The walls are painted in warm, muted tones, like she wanted a cocoon to shut out the world.

There’s a cozy throw draped over a worn armchair in the corner, and books stacked messily beside it, as if she’s always in the middle of ten stories at once.

A faint scent lingers in the air—something floral and fresh but with a hint of spice, like her.

It’s intimate, but not staged. She’s not hiding who she is here, not trying to impress anyone. And the thought of me being the one to see her like this, in her most private space, has my pulse thrumming harder than I’d like to admit.

Anthony was here, though. But not in her bedroom. If he was, he’d be dead.

I grab my pants when I glimpse my reflection in her standing mirror. Blood—her blood—on my cock and smeared across my lower abdomen.

It’s a beautiful fucking mess that makes my breath hitch, her blood on me, marking me in a way that feels primal and permanent. The sight is visceral, sending a surge of satisfaction through me.

I run a hand over my abs, smearing the crimson streaks across my skin.

It’s not just her virginity I’ve taken—it’s her trust, her surrender. And seeing the proof of that spread across my body lights something dark in my soul, fucking biblical, a deep, possessive hunger.

I lean against the edge of her bed, staring at the reflection, letting the weight of it all sink in. Her blood and my cum mixed, a chaotic blend of lust and possession.

It’s carnal, feral. And I fucking love it.

A dark grin tugs at my lips as I grab my jacket, fishing out the pocketknife.

It’s sick. Twisted. Demented. But this moment—this perfect, sordid moment—needs to last. Needs to be burned into me. A fleeting memory isn’t enough. I want it carved into my skin, into my soul. And I want that moment engraved into my skin, something permanent, something no one can ever take away.

I flip the blade open with a quiet click, the edge gleaming under the dim light. Slowly, deliberately, I press it just to the left of my hip bone.

A sharp sting blooms as the steel slices through flesh, and blood wells up instantly, dark and hot. It mingles with hers, still smeared across my abdomen.

My breath hitches, not from pain but the rush. The thought of her blood merging with mine, seeping into me like it belongs there—it’s fucking euphoric. It’s not just about marking myself; it’s about branding this moment, burning her into me. Forever.

I’ve always known depravity lurks inside us Del Rossa men, but tonight, that devil inside me had its grand unveiling, grinning as it took the reins. The line between what’s right and what’s mine has now blurred beyond recognition.

Jesus Christ, I don’t know where the hell this obsession came from, but it’s here, and it’s burning, threatening to turn me to ash for this woman. Every rational thought I’ve ever had, every ounce of control—it’s all gone, buried under the need to have her.

It’s like she slipped under my skin without warning, without permission. One moment, she’s a potential troublemaker, someone we might have to neutralize if she became a problem.

The next? She’s everything.

Her scent, her taste, the way her body yields to mine—it’s all-consuming. It defies reason, but reason left the second I made her come that very first time. Now, the idea of her with anyone else makes my blood boil, my vision blur with rage.

It doesn’t make sense. I’ve never been the type to lose control, to let someone crawl into my mind and take up space. But here I am, and there’s no fighting it. I don’t want to fight it. Whatever this is—this obsession, this need—I’m embracing it. I’ll let it fester and grow until it owns me.

I grab my phone, dialing Maximo’s number.

“What?”

“It’s good to hear your voice, too, asshole.”

Maximo sighs. “It’s four in the morning. What the fuck do you want?”

I saunter over to her bedroom window, sliding the curtains a little to the side, glancing outside. “You know our friend, Paladino?”

“Yeah? What about him?”

I look down, touching the fresh cut. “He needs to fucking die.”