Revenge (Yacht Kings #1) Read Online Renee Rose

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Erotic, Forbidden, Mafia, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Yacht Kings Series by Renee Rose
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Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 39068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
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When the delicate blue-blood proved that she may look like she’s made of porcelain, but hot blood runs in her veins.

My kiss loses finesse and turns aggressive with passion.

It’s the way she responds to me–that gasp of excitement, the offering of her lush body to my hands. She heats beneath my touch. I lift her upright, so I can get at her neck, kissing and nibbling down the slender column.

“Oh.” Her little gasp of surprise gets me harder than granite. I slip my forearm under her ass and boost her ass up so I can carry her to the closest wall. Her legs part to straddle my waist, sending the short minidress careening up her thighs.

If I weren’t half out of my mind, I would worry how much of her delicious thighs my men can see. Or the photographers for that matter.

But I’ve forgotten there’s anyone else around. I’ve forgotten my revenge. I’ve forgotten everything but the taste of her mouth and the feel of her lush body. The excited sounds that leave her throat.

I pin against the wall and deepen the kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue and bruising force. My erection presses against her belly. I drop her ass lower into my hands to line the notch between her legs up with my throbbing member.

She moans against my mouth. I thrust my tongue in rhythm with the rock of my hips, a slow fuck.

“Antonio,” she gasps.

Fuck.

I must be losing my mind because I would give up this yacht just to hear her say my name in that desperate, breathy tone again. To hear her chant it over and over like an invocation. Like she’s praising God.

“That’s right, Principessa.” I bite down on her neck. “This is how your husband is going to take care of you.” I lick the place I bit, then suck. “Every. Fucking. Day.”

“Antonio.” She’s panting. Rocking her hips to meet my thrusts. I find the waistband of her panties and yank them down her ass, dying to get that small scrap of fabric out of my way, so I can give it to her hard. Right here, right now.

Dahlia panics.

Suddenly, she’s kicking and shoving me away, wriggling and scrambling to get out of my arms.

I return to my senses.

Easing Dahlia back to her feet, I pull up her panties and adjust the hem of her dress. I give her ass a pat. “No, dear. Not until you beg me for it.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes and giving my chest a shove.

Hearing the beat of the helicopter’s blades, I pull her against my body as if she were trying to hug me instead. She allows it, and I hold her for a few counts before I release her.

“You will beg, darling.” I adjust her sunhat, which I must’ve knocked askance when I was kissing her. Her lips are swollen and puffy from the kiss, her cheeks flushed.

It makes me hungry for Round Two.

“Don’t hold your breath, Antonio.” she shoots back, flouncing away. Then she stops and twists to look at me over her shoulder. “On second thought, do. I could definitely survive the tragedy of a marriage cut short by an early death.”

Dahlia

As I walk away from Antonio, my body buzzes from his kiss. My panties are soaked, nipples hard beads beneath my bra cups.

I don’t know how he does it to me. Why I find him so achingly attractive. I can’t fathom what it is about him that makes me desperate for his attention.

Maybe the real appeal of the bad boy is that he doesn’t give a crap about me. It calls to that human desire to win friends and make connections. He’s the ultimate challenge.

It makes sense. I met him at a ball where everyone had to be polite to me, if not fawning.

And there he was. Watching me with total disinterest. Derision, even.

And I just had to make him want me.

Sadly, I’m still that fifteen-year-old girl.

Antonio claimed me to punish my father. He thinks I’m a spoiled rich girl. He has no real interest in me, and yet I’m dying to make him fall in love.

To win over the bad boy and prove I am worthy.

It’s that realization, more than anything, that strengthens my resolve to get myself out of this unhealthy, dangerous situation.

There has to be a way to unbind myself from Antonio.

I realize I’m walking swiftly across the length of the yacht with no particular destination in mind, other than getting away from Antonio. I end up near the helm and through the window of the console, I’m startled to see a face I recognize.

Shawn Hennessey, my father’s yacht captain.

It’s funny how in dire circumstances a familiar face–one that normally would only cause me to feel a shrug of boredom–could fill me with such pleasure.

“Shawn!” I beam the first smile that’s cracked my face in at least thirty-six hours.


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