Chapter 30
Waves of tension sparkling inside me rise up and gather like waves of little birds, swirling to migrate. I can’t wait any longer. I dive into his lap and wrap my lips around his slick, shiny bulb. My head floods with the scent and the deliciously forbidden, dark taste of him.
As I take him in, I roll and lap my tongue around his hot girth. He swells even more, as soon as he’s wet by the cooler inside of my mouth. Now the saliva gushes up out of my throat and coats him. His hardness presses along my tongue and prods at the back of my throat.
This is the part I dream about, in my darkest, most secret moments. Where I stretch and relax my throat and take him in deeper. Over the back of my tongue, pulsing hard into my neck.
The feeling is so powerful and it feels so forbidden, so wrong. My eyes water and I love it so much, I start to come. Everything is in a rush, and I know I have to take my time. Like the breathing, I need to be in control and let go at the same time. The clash of need, the explosion of lust makes me suck hard and plunge my mouth all the way down the throbbing ridges of his cock.
He groans, “You filthy sweet, beautiful little fucking princess.”
It’s no mean feat. His shaft goes on forever. Before I get to the hot darkness at the base of him, before I can reach the tip of my tongue to his balls and his pubic bone, I feel like I’m swallowing a whole man.
God, though, what a fucking man.
And with one skillful hand, he spins me into orbit.
“Fuck!” he snarls. “Oh, you are so fucking wonderful.”
Fuck. So are you, Carlo.
At this moment, being sold off to the youngest of the three princes doesn’t seem like it would be such a bad thing.
I reach both hands to grip his ass, to pull his hips to me, to get leverage to pull my face down deeper. My wet mouth and my weeping eyes pour streams into his lap, while his brutal hand drives into me, finger-fucking me into one exploding oblivion after another.
I moan and shout, but all the sound is absorbed in wet vibration on his hard length.
His voice is loud enough for both of us, though.
“You are so good. You’re going to kill me.”
I hear a siren and I’m distantly aware of lights flashing red and blue.
I feel him push down harder on the throttle, and the car accelerates.
A huge pulse from the base of his cock rockets up the thickness of his shaft, and a hot blast of thick, creamy cum fills my throat. I keep my nose pressed into darkness at the top of his thigh. A huge rolling wave gathers inside me and holds, high in the air. His cum keeps on pumping into my throat and I can feel the heat of it spilling out around my lips.
He shouts, “Fuck. YES!”
His pelvis rises. Slams him deeper. Reaming my throat.
His hand grips in spasms. “Oh, God. Damn! That is so fucking good.”
The big wave, held, suspended, finally drops. It crashes and bursts, splashes and floods, and I’m gushing into his hand while his salty hot sauce hammers into my neck.
He yells. The siren is louder. I’m sucking and gulping and swallowing down every hot gulp.
The car skids and spins, turning and finally sliding in reverse. I don’t even look up.
Drained, wet-faced, and gasping, wild-eyed, I suck and slurp to try and gobble up the last drops of him, or as much as I can. Sulkily, reluctantly, I haul my face off his fabulous monster of a cock.
His hand strokes my hair so tenderly and his voice is dreamy as he says, “No. I don’t want you to stop, either.” I look up for a glimpse of his devilishly angelic face. With an adoring look, I squeeze him with both hands.
We both know we have something else to think about right now. But I’m certain we both know that this is something we have to come back to.
The car has come to a stop, slewed at a wild angle across the two-lane road, facing the wrong way. In front of us is the full light show of a police cruiser, and a cop has a hand on his belt as he makes his slow, arrogant swagger in our direction.
Like he has all the time in the world, Carlo takes me with a filthy, tender kiss. He strokes my face and his eyes still shine into mine as he steps out of the car.
He tells me, “Stay there.”
I give him a shrug. “I don’t have anywhere much to go.”
He struts toward the cop.
The policeman drops one hand to his gun and holds up the other hand. With a shrug, Carlo raises both hands, palms forward. A gesture of calm and assurance. More like a gentle command than a surrender.
Carlo speaks to the cop. I can’t hear what he says. He reaches for the cop’s shoulder. The young officer shrugs away and steps back, his hand more firmly gripping his weapon. But there’s an uncertain look on his face. And he doesn’t draw the gun.
Carlo says something else. The cop holds up a finger and speaks into the radio on his chest. Then he listens. He looks puzzled as he talks to the radio again. Then he pulls in his lips and his jaw sets as he nods.
He doesn’t look happy as he nods again. Then he says something to Carlo. Lifts his gun hand, open and empty, in a dismissive wave, and he turns back to his marked car. He throws out a scowl as he climbs in. Turning off the red and blue flashers, he reverses, turns and drives off the way he came.
Carlo saunters back to the car.
“What did you say to him?”
“Not much.” He has an easy sparkle in his eye. “He’s new to the force. I gave him a couple of tips. Names of people who can help his career.”
“You ordered him off.”
Carlo’s shrug is light. “I gave him a pointer. He’ll do better with that than if I gave him a donation to the widows and orphans.” As he swings his legs back into the Bentley and fires up the big engine, he’s like a man without a care in the world.
“You want to go somewhere quiet for a drink?” His eyebrows lift, and the look in his eye is inviting. “I know a place. Nice. Out of the way. Overlooks a lake.”
Up from under his loose, movie-star hair and his perfectly manicured eyebrows, he almost lets loose a smile. “They have rooms, too.”
My heart pounds. Before I can answer, his phone beeps.
He fishes in his pocket, then his face darkens when he sees the screen.
“Minke. I have to go. The don wants a council of war.” He slaps the steering wheel. “I don’t make any of the decisions, but the don isn’t stupid. He knows that between us, my advice and Bruno’s are worth more than the blundering doofus he calls his consigliere.”
And Alessio? I’m wondering, Where’s he in the equation? but I keep my counsel, as Daddy would say. And I notice, like Bruno, he calls Don Fortuna the don. Not ‘Dad,’ or even ‘my father.’
“Sorry, Cinderella. I’m taking you back to the house.”
“I can come with you.”
“No.”
“I could wait in a bar or a diner.”
“No.”
“Or in the car.”
He grabs my wrist. His intensity makes me buzz. “I need to know you are safe. Meanwhile, I have to go and meet with the don and the others at a place in town.” The thought clearly doesn’t please him.
He’s wrong about me, though. I tell him, “I’m Cinderella in reverse. I was a princess to start with, but at the stroke of midnight, my party clothes were all over the place and a prince came for me.”
Even with my inexperience, I know that the first encounters with a mafia prince can be devastating. but from the way I’ve watched princesses turn into brides, then slide down into married life, they don’t always wear so well.
Now, though, right now, I feel more of a glow inside than I knew that I could. I never felt better than I do this moment.
He sees me inside the big doors of the house of horrors, and leaves me there. I watch from the door as he drives away, and I feel a pang. I feel for him. I love him. I’m falling in love with him. But I can’t deny the feelings that I have for Bruno, too. And for Alessio. Just the thought of him gives me shivers.
Carlo told me to wait for him in the summerhouse. We won’t be disturbed there. Maybe. But I have no idea how long I’ll have to wait for him.