Chapter Six #2
“I like looking at your face,” she whispers, cupping my jaw and brushing her thumb over it in a way that moves me.
“I knew I wanted to become an expressionist painter when I took the class. Painting emotions—that’s what my old professor used to call it.
” Her eyes run over my face, those big brown eyes innocent in the way they watch me.
“I used to stare at you for hours, trying to make out what emotion you were feeling.”
“And what emotion do you see now?”
“Greed,” she whispers, her thumb brushing my lips. “Desire, longing…” She gasps when I notch my cock at her entrance, rubbing it through her wetness before nudging the tip in, making no move to push more in.
“Continue…”
“Passion,” she whispers, her eyes fixed on mine. “Yearning and…oh!” Her lips part with a gasp when I slowly nudge a bit more of my cock inside her, groaning when she opens up for me like a flower. “Excitement...”
I grip her hip, my eyes locked on hers as I sink deeper into her tightness—and fuck, she’s so tight.
Like a glove, clenching around my pulsing cock and threatening to push me to the edge, but I rein in my own desire.
“I’m greedy, alright,” I rasp, sealing her mouth with mine in a hungry, possessive kiss.
“You have no idea how good you feel, principessa.” I pause to brush my mouth over her cheeks and forehead. “You’re mine, Gabriella. Only mine.”
“Yes,” she whimpers, clasping my jaw and pulling my mouth back to her.
I kiss her like a fevered man, rocking gently in and out of her tight pussy before slamming forward and burying my cock deep inside her.
I swallow her gasp, feeling her clench hard around me—and fuuuck, I nearly come on the spot.
Christ, how can one person feel so perfect?
“Fuck, princess,” I grind through clenched teeth, dropping my forehead against hers as I try to control the need to hammer in and out of her.
“You’re so fucking tight. Fuuck. Are you okay, baby?
” I brush my lips over her temple before seeking her mouth with mine, looking to soothe. “Tell me if it hurts, princess.”
“I’m good,” she pants, her breathing heavy against mine. “Hurts a little, but...” Her hips move subtly under mine, making me groan. “It feels good too. Kiss me, Nico.”
So I do, rolling my hips gently as I lose myself in the taste of her.
She whimpers into the kiss, her fingers flexing on my shoulders as I start to rock faster into her.
I try to hold back—remind myself that this woman has never had a man before—but it’s almost like the restraints on my control have failed, and I can’t stop. Christ, I can’t stop.
How long have I wanted her—sought pleasure from other women and imagined it was her I was making love to?
“God!” My body shudders over her as I thrust deeper, groaning when her legs open wider for me, taking me farther into her warmth.
My muscles tense, breathing growing ragged as all my senses narrow on her.
“So beautiful. No one comes close. No one!” I growl, gripping her hip as I pour everything into her.
“Nico…oh, don’t stop,” she moans, nails digging into my shoulder. I thrust continuously into her, my balls slapping against her ass. “Oh God!”
I keep my eyes locked on hers, drinking up every expression that crosses her face.
Desire, Longing, passion—yearning. Is that what she could read on my face?
It’s what’s written on hers, and it drives me crazy to know that someone this gorgeous wants me.
That she likes being claimed by the last man she should have ever let touch her.
Her stepbrother.
It’s wrong. But it feels so damn perfect.
I press deeper, sliding my cock from her tight channel and angling it to rub against her clit. She hisses out, nails biting into my skin as I move faster, the sounds of our lovemaking filling the air. Crowding my mind.
“Close!” I choke out, snapping my hips fast against hers, fingers digging into her skin as I fight for control. I drop my hand between us to circle her clit in rough strokes as I slam into her, my movements feral, untamed, an animal seeking to claim its mate.
She climaxes with a scream, her walls clenching hard around me before releasing in violent shudders.
Her entire body shakes, legs trembling as she rocks up to meet my thrusts.
I pin her down with my hips, slamming forward once, then twice, before coming with a bellow.
My muscles tense and release in ripples, my cum spurting so violently it feels like my first time all over again.
It’s almost like I’m discovering along with her what it feels like to share a first.
Nothing compares.
“I can’t…too much,” Gabriella sobs, clinging onto me as I push deep into her, fucking her so hard it sends her into another orgasm. She clenches hard around me, those eyes going opaque as I bear into her until I’m wiped out.
I collapse over her with a grunt, burying my face in her neck and losing myself in the scent of her.
For a solid five minutes, the room is only filled with the heavy sound of our breathing.
I wait for the blood pounding in my head to stop before pushing back to look down at her, taking deep satisfaction in the blissed-out look on her face. “Are you okay?”
“Hmm,” she hums, her eyes finding mine, and I read the question in them even as a smile plays on her lips. “That was…is it always like that?”
“No,” I say honestly, kissing her swollen lips. “I didn’t know it could feel that way.”
“Really?”
I drop my forehead to hers. “You call to something in me, Gabriella. Even now, with my cock still buried inside of you. I want you. I want to spend the rest of the day with you—making love, taking care of you, or just looking at you. You undo me with a simple glance and a touch.” I brush my lips over hers again.
I can’t seem to help myself. “So no, it’s never been like this for me.
Not alone, and not with anyone else. Ever. ”
The naked emotions on her face threaten to undo me. “Let’s do that,” she says. “Let’s stay in bed all day and make love.”
I chuckle at her enthusiasm, and as much as I would love that, I shake my head, pulling out of her.
“Not now,” I tell her, taking her hand and helping her up.
“You have an exhibition tonight, and I don’t want you to spend it sore and uncomfortable.
I’ll draw you a bath and help you relax before then. ”
“Will you take it with me?”
“If you want.”
“I do.”
“Then I will.”
***
A little over twenty years ago, Leonardo Rossi walked into my father’s office, and in tow was his oldest son, Matteo.
I’d met the Italian mob boss before and knew he had business with my father, but until then, I’d never met any of his sons.
That day, Matteo and I were forced to sit in the waiting room while the adults talked business.
We didn’t hit it off immediately. How could we when we had nothing in common?
For one, Matteo was the eldest of four boys and carried the weight of the next don on his shoulders.
The future of the Rossi empire fell on his shoulders, and for that reason, he was forced to act older than his age.
Me? Well, I was the youngest son of a real estate tycoon.
I didn’t have to worry about talking over the family business because I assumed my older brother, Bruno, would inherit most of our father’s business anyway.
Hell, one would have thought that Matteo and Bruno would have gotten along—they were the same age and both being groomed to inherit significant power. But they never did.
Our father, Marco, had an unfortunate habit of holding Matteo up as the standard Bruno should aspire to—the discipline, the steadiness, the way he carried himself even as a boy.
It created a chip on Bruno’s shoulder where Matteo was concerned that never quite went away.
Where Marco saw a model, Bruno saw a rival he could never beat—and never understood why he was expected to.
It’s me who ended up unofficially adopted into the Rossi family, who got along with the Rossi brothers. I was the one who became close enough to the Rossis that my position as Matteo’s consigliere was affirmed long before we were adults. Long before he became the don.
The chaos began when our father died before Bruno and I were adults.
After his death, my mother was left to handle the businesses, and when it became too much for her, she leaned on Leonardo Rossi for help and, years later, for companionship.
As a result, Bruno and I became part of the Rossi clan.
For Bruno, this should have been an opportunity.
A new start, a new household, a man who might have given him the fatherly approval Marco had always withheld.
But Leonardo never quite looked at Bruno the way he looked at his own sons—the warmth was there, but the recognition wasn’t, and Bruno felt the difference acutely.
He’d spent his whole life reaching for approval he couldn’t earn, first from Marco, then from Leonardo, and somewhere in that reaching, he lost himself.
The alcohol came first—slowly, then all at once.
He changed, became dangerous and volatile before any of us could stop him.
All the hate and resentment he carried turned inward until it had nowhere to go, and it came out in the worst possible way—Sofia’s kidnapping and threat of murder.
I’m not sure if I believed my brother capable of killing an innocent woman or whether it was an empty threat, but it didn’t matter.
The moment he kidnapped Sofia, he was a traitor to the Rossis.
His fate should have been death. Except he was my brother, and Matteo was my best friend, so he let me make the call.