Insidious Ocean
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 20: is
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 20: is - Who is the true villain in this story? Luca Moreno has always believed in justice, which is why he became a cop. Now undercover in the Brooks family’s criminal empire, he plans to destroy it from within. But when he meets Raven, the Don’s niece, everything changes. As his morals blur and innocence erodes, Luca must face who he’s becoming—and who the real villain truly is.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Crime Humor Oral Sex
RAVEN
Luca grabs my tiny luggage bag before I’m able to, leading me down the hall and out the front door. We stop and give a quick wave to Cain—he’s on the phone—and then Luca’s placing my bag in the back of his car as I get in the passenger’s seat.
We’re about to get out on the road. We have to go meet Marco and I’ve been dreading it ever since Luca told me late last night. I don’t know if Marco decided this last minute or not, but it’s insanely annoying. I already have to marry the man, now he wants to hang out too?
I was hoping this would be the type of marriage where I’d never see him because he’d be too busy working. That’d be more than ideal.
I can’t be sure what Marco’s angle is with this. Does he simply want me to meet his dad? Is he doing this so he looks good in Cain’s eyes? Or is it his own sick, twisted version of trying to get at me? To sink his claws in me and stake his claim?
Whatever it is, the best part of this whole thing is that I get some time away from the house. It’ll be nice to not be under my uncle’s roof for a bit. Although, I’m still not outside the realm of his rules because I’m under Marco’s now.
At least I have Luca’s company.
Speaking of, Luca looks so hot behind the wheel of his old car. He’s utterly focused on the road, occasionally upshifting and I observe as he does it each time, the muscles in his arms flexing as he does so.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so drawn towards another human being before. I’m not sure that I can feign that I’m not insanely attracted to him.
I have to—especially in front of Marco and my uncle—but it’s not going to be easy. Not when I’m zoning in on his big dick energy like my pussy suddenly has heat-seeking capabilities.
In fact, as I glance at him right now, with one tattooed hand gripping the steering wheel while the other rests atop the gear shift knob, I’m having a hard time because I’m picturing shit that’s totally inappropriate. Like him threading his fingers in the hair at the back of my neck, encouraging me to lean over the center console, unzip his fly, and take him into my mouth. Listening as he breathes a desperate hiss, followed by a throaty exhale of, “Good girl,” as he begins lifting his hips from the seat to fuck my mouth while still safely driving us to the hotel.
Shit, that image is far too vivid.
We literally have more than three hours in the car together and now that’ll be at the forefront of my mind.
After last night and having his hands all over me, I’m a boiling kettle. I need someone to take the lid off and let out some of this pent up frustration.
Trying to forget the thoughts swirling in my head, I ask him probably about the worst question, “Did you have fun last night?” The second the words leave my lips, I remember his tattooed hand between my thigh. He was seconds away from finger fucking me in the middle of the bar before Ariah and Max showed up.
I went home extra sexually frustrated. I should probably be embarrassed about the fact that I came on my own fingers to the thought of him, but I’m not.
“Yeah,” he confirms, “Until I had to talk to Marco.”
“I don’t blame you.”
He falls quiet and for some reason I feel like he’s now thinking about what happened between us on that couch.
“That outfit last night—” he pauses, as if he’s picturing it in his head again, “Is that something you’d normally wear?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Is it something you typically wear to the bar? Or did you dress up?”
“Are you asking if I dressed up for you?” A moment of silence falls over us, as if he doesn’t want the words to be officially spoken out loud. “‘Cause I’ll never tell.”
He smirks in this ridiculously sexy way, his tongue drawing along his lower lip as he assures me, “I have ways of making you talk, Angel.”
I press my thighs together. I like his teasing. I like imagining what he’d do to me in order to make me admit the truth. What exactly would he do to me?
As we continue along the journey to the Cardoso mansion, I end up falling asleep at one point. Luca doesn’t disturb me, allowing me to have a cat nap that ends up lasting longer than I intend. Around hour two, I’m pleased to find that he even packed snacks and drinks for me, which I share with him as he follows the freeway.
“I think you should know,” Luca starts, not tearing his eyes off the asphalt as we follow a curve, “I’m fairly positive Marco is sleeping with other women.”
I mean, it doesn’t surprise me. Doesn’t bother me either, but it does make me think less of him, if that was even possible. At this point, he could only impress me and that’s saying a lot.
“When he called last night I could hear a woman giggling, followed by him shushing her.”
I roll my eyes, “Fuck him, I really don’t care.” Maybe I’ll do the same. It’s not like I’m going to sleep with him, so I might as well get it somewhere.
“When we get to the hotel, we’ll be staying in a room together,” he informs me.
“Oh?” I’ll admit, that piques my curiosity.
“Marco told me to keep an eye on you, even if it meant staying together,” he smiles, as if thinking about it amuses him.
Marco’s such a moron. Why would you request your fiancée—who he doesn’t realize has the hots for her bodyguard—stay alone in a room with another man? A man who’s as attractive and charismatic as Luca? A man she’s fucked once and would absolutely fuck again?
He either doesn’t care at all about me, or he honestly believes that Luca would never try anything. Perhaps his ego is so big that he truly thinks nobody would even risk touching what belongs to him.
Ugh, I want to vomit thinking that. I’m positive that’s how he’d word it, though.
A lot of the men in this world are so egotistical that they put blind faith in certain aspects of their lives because they truly believe with every fibre of their being that the people around them wouldn’t dare go against them. Marco strikes me as the type.
“I made sure to get a suite with two separate bedrooms. That way I can still protect you, but also give you your privacy.”
For some reason, I feel like that protection he’s mentioning isn’t just from our enemies. Part of me would like to think he’s saying that because he’s trying to keep me safe from Marco, too. Maybe he’s afraid that Marco will try something that he shouldn’t.
“Sounds good,” I reply, tossing a chip in my mouth.
I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not, to be honest. We’ll have to wait and see.
Marco has clearly inherited his father’s height, because Diablo—just like Marco—towers over me as he approaches. He creates a shadow over me and even Luca as he comes to a stop only a few feet in front of us.
“Raven,” he greets, a smile on his face. Despite his height, I find that he’s a lot less intimidating than Marco. His smile doesn’t creep me out, there’s something a bit softer to it. Plus, I think the fact that he has dark brown eyes instead of blindingly blue eyes helps.
“Just Rae,” I correct, taking his hand as he offers it for a shake.
“Diablo Cardoso,” he introduces, as if none of us are aware of his name. He then shifts his attention to the man at my right, “Luca, correct?”
“Yeah,” Luca confirms, shaking his hand as well. “Raven’s personal bodyguard.”
“Welcome, it’s lovely to meet the both of you. Luca—” Diablo turns his attention to him, “—Cain speaks highly of you.”
Though I believe none of the other men in this room know Luca well enough to notice the slight reaction, I do. Luca appears taken aback by the sound of that.
“Rae, you are the wild one of your family,” he points out.
“I guess you could say that.”
“Don’t worry, father,” Marco speaks up, “I’ll be sure to keep her under control.”
Diablo seems amused at the sound of that, “Sure, Marco.”
I jerk when I feel Marco’s hand grab mine, twisting to look at him with shock and disgust. He’s wearing a mischievous smile, yanking me away from his father and Luca. “Come, avecita. I’ll show you the wing where we’ll stay when we’re married.”
Is he serious? He doesn’t plan on moving out? He wants to be a married man still living with his parents?
Despite me clearly digging my heels in and not wanting to go alone with him anywhere, he’s pulling me along and I don’t want to cause a scene. I have to remind myself that I need to learn who Marco is. I’d already decided to play along with this whole thing for as long as it takes to find a weak spot. That way I can hit him where it hurts and end this all before it becomes something more permanent.
I glance back at the last second before Marco leads me down the hall, disappointed to find that Diablo has his hand on the space between Luca’s shoulder blades and is leading him somewhere else. Wherever it is they’re going, they’re deep in conversation.
I know that I can handle Marco on my own, so I’m not so worried about that part of it. However, I’m hoping that Luca is making some sort of connection with Diablo. Getting on his good side while doing whatever he can to find a weakness.
I don’t like any of this, but I play along. When we get around the corner, I tear my hand out of Marco’s grasp. I’ll play the defenseless girl for his sake, but not completely. I can’t snuff out my fight that easily.
In fact, I’ll collect the wetness that should be seeping from my eyes in emotion and turn it into an ocean with the force of ten foot waves. He won’t see the danger coming.
He leads me down a corridor and a maze of halls until we come upon a completely separate area. In fact, it doesn’t even feel like the same house. While the main area of the house is lavishly modern, Marco’s area is some form of European classical-style furniture. It looks like something royalty would live in—with plenty of heavy brass touches, floral grandma prints, and fancy mouldings that look hand-carved.
I hate it. All of it. I don’t even like the fucking round throw pillows with lines extending from the center like a cut open orange. They look like tires, why would anyone even buy them?
I can’t picture myself living here for five minutes, never mind for the remainder of my life alongside him. A prison is still a prison, no matter how extravagant.
“My whole wing is soundproofed and riddled with security,” he informs me, a wicked smirk playing over his lips as he grips the back edge of the sofa and leans partly over it while he waits for my reaction.
Sound proofed? I guess it’s fitting. A snake safe in his lair will hear nothing but his own rattle.
My eyes meet his and a chill races down my spine. Everything about Marco is cold—his touch, his gaze, the colour of his eyes, his heart—and I want nothing to do with it. But those eyes? I detest them. They remind me of ice, of a calm ocean right before a storm, and of the base of a fire. A warning to keep my distance at all times.
“This is where you expect me to live? With your parents?”
“This is my house, avecita.”
“You’re gonna’ be a nearly thirty year old married man and what? Your mom is gonna’ make your lunches before you go off to slit some throats?” The words fly out of my mouth before I realize it. “For fuck’s sake, you have the personal style of a grandma.”
His jaw is tight and locked, like he’s ready to strike at any moment. He slowly walks around the sofa, clearly up to something. He’s like a boa constrictor slowly ensnaring its victim, sizing me up before he consumes me whole.
“Of course I expect you to live here. With my ring on your finger and my last name, you’ll do as you’re told.” He continues stalking towards me, but I take two steps back for every one he takes forward. “Now, I’ll excuse your lack of manners for a kiss.”
“You’re fuckin’ delusional. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“It depends on which personality you’re asking.”
“Whatever’s wrong with you, I’m sure it’s difficult to pronounce.” I clench my jaw, keeping my distance.
Does he honestly believe I’m scared of him? I’ve had a knife to my throat, a gun to my head—his threats and presence aren’t enough to make me run in fear. He disgusts me more than anything. I don’t trust him even the slightest and I don’t think I’m incorrect in that feeling.
“I said I want a kiss.”
“Kiss my ass,” I snap, freezing like a deer does when it senses prey. The moment I see his facial expression change into that of amusement and desire, I know I’m not going to want to hear what he has to say.
“Then undo the button on those shorts and bend over.”
Fuck, I just threw up in my mouth.
Why is he even showing any interest in me? Luca said he’d heard Marco on the phone with another woman, so why is he looking twice in my direction. He can keep getting it from whoever the hell she is because I’m not doing anything for or with him.
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