Chapter 19
Sweat drips from my scalp down my face as I sling my fists into the black punching bag.
My workouts always begin with a sunrise walk from my house to the gym inside the pool house on the main grounds.
Domenico, Alister’s father, had the place renovated when Alister and his sister, Sophia, were younger.
And Alister updated it in recent years. Everything has been freshly painted in shades of white and black.
Overall, the space is modern compared to the houses on the estate.
There’s room for weight training and a turf area for circuit training.
There’s every type of machine you could ask for, even some tires to flip, which is always fun.
And, while I much prefer working with a sparring partner, the punching bag is my favorite of the gym equipment.
After my weights session and before my run back home, I always spend a good twenty minutes throwing the bag around.
It’s good cardio and good practice for the unexpected threats constantly on the rise.
Not to mention, it’s the perfect way to release all my pent-up energy, aggression, stress, or whatever the dominant emotion of the day is.
Today, I’m not sure which is more pressing—thoughts of Serena and what she may or may not be up to and my growing affection for Darcy.
The way she and I left things last night had me thinking about her until the very moment I finally fell asleep.
Black eyes and broken ribs? Remembering our conversation has me taking out the frustration I felt on the bag the same way I took my rage out on the bartender who insulted her.
But pain and sadness, vengeance even, are not all I think of when I think of Darcy.
The innocent intimacy of holding her hand and simply saying her name melds with the lust that’s been bubbling inside me ever since I saw her in those tiny little shorts this morning.
Darcy, yes, she’s where my head is and thoughts of her are all-consuming.
So consuming, that even as my workout ends, I find myself in need of a different release.
As sweat stings my eyes, I pinch them closed and back away from the bag as it swings.
It’s behind my closed eyelids I see her.
She moves like a goddess or a graceful little gazelle, unaware of the lion hunting her, readying to pounce.
God, I fight those urges all too frequently now.
If I had my way—if she were ready—I would have come up behind her as she prepared her coffee.
I would have placed one hand on her stomach and wrapped one around her neck.
As my grip tightens around her delicate flesh, not so much that it hurts, just enough that she knows who she belongs to, I would unbutton her shorts and slide my hand into her panties.
Gently, slowly, I would tease her clit. I find myself short of breath as I imagine it—touching her, embracing her, studying her every curve and memorizing her every sound.
I wonder what she sounds like when she is pleasured?
When she cums? Oh, the way her breathless moans and cries for more would electrify every nerve in my body.
The way I would bend to her every request, worship her.
As I picture her pressing her body against mine, bracing herself as her arousal builds, I can’t think of a single thing I would ask her to do to me.
I just want her, all of her—in my hands, in my mouth, wrapped around me like a vice I never want to be free from.
As my fantasy continues to play out, I rip my boxing gloves off and, bracing myself against the wall, slip my hand down the front of my joggers.
Once more, I close my eyes and stroke myself to thoughts of her.
I kiss her shoulder as I slip one finger inside her.
Then, guiding her mouth to mine with my hand still clenching her neck, I savor her gasp as I surprise her with a second finger.
She looks at me with parted lips and eyes, both innocent and desperate.
Without words, she begs me for more and I’m all too happy to oblige.
Spinning her around, I pick her up and sit her plump, bouncy ass on the kitchen countertop, ridding her of her shorts as I do.
Oh, I bet she tastes so good. “Darcy.” I moan as the pressure in my dick builds.
It’s so intense that I know I can’t hold out much longer.
But I try to restrain myself because I haven’t even made it to the best part yet.
Bending over, I bring my teeth to her white lace panties and pull them from her swollen, sensitive flesh.
She watches me with anticipation, excitement, or perhaps confusion.
Has she ever been eaten out before? Thoughts of being the first to go down on her is my undoing.
Before I can even imagine bringing my mouth to her sweet little cunt, I burst. My body jerks as cum shoots from me, leaving me more breathless than any workout ever could.
There’s a euphoric explosion in my mind that comes with my release, a sense of calm and peace I haven’t felt in a while.
Damn, that may have been the strongest ejaculation I’ve ever experienced.
My lips spread into a smile. The high from my workout and now this is all too intoxicating.
Though my high has a quick let-down as I open my eyes to stare at nothing but the white wall of the gym.
It was just a fantasy, one I’m not sure will ever transcend into the realm of reality. And that is a sinking feeling.
Backing away from the wall, my smile fades and I suddenly notice my body’s fatigue and the sticky cum clinging to my thighs.
Turning around to— “Oh, shit! Sorry, girl. You shouldn’t have had to see that,” I say, as Ru gives me a side-eye from her lounging position on the turf.
She’s so quiet, I forget she’s here half the time.
She groans, as if to tell me she’s ready to head back. “I know, girl. Just a minute.”
Grabbing my phone off the bench, I head to the bathroom to clean up.
I know I’ll be sweaty and gross again by the time I make it back to the house.
But, until I do, I’d rather not feel, or smell, the reminder of what I don’t have and probably never will.
Quickly, I strip down and toss my cum-filled joggers on the floor.
There should be a spare set of clothes in the vanity.
It is a pool house after all, and crazier things than post-workout masturbation have occurred.
Turning on the water to the green-tiled shower, I bring it to a medium heat and step in.
Using the body wash, I rinse away the sweat and cum and take a moment to get my bearings.
As the water rushes over me, I take several deep breaths and allow the last thoughts of Darcy to drift to the back of my mind—at least for now.
Today is Monday, which means it’s going to be a long one.
And, with Damon and Ana’s wedding this Saturday, it’s even more important I’m on my shit so that nothing interferes with their big day.
When I get back to the house, I’ll have emails and texts to check.
I’ll have to schedule visits with the former capos now working for Aidan Cross and the mob.
Not to mention, I’ll have to make time to meet with him as well and I’ll need to go over the security plan for Damon and Ana’s wedding with both his men and the guys from The Compound.
There shouldn’t be anything to worry about, but Damon isn’t taking any chances after Ana’s abduction, and I don’t blame him. Speaking of The Compound, I wonder if the guys have any updates on the cartel’s movements yet? And then, there’s the other matter—Alister and Ariana.
With Alister gone, I’ve been left in charge of protecting Ariana.
But, since she’s an FBI agent and her father has men of his own to help keep her safe, there’s not a lot for me to do aside from stay in the loop and show up if shit goes down.
Considering the delicate nature of Alister’s departure from New Orleans and the emotional strain it’s put on Ariana, it’s best I keep my distance anyway.
Alister went dark the moment his private jet landed in Prague, at least, to the rest of the world.
But, seeing as I’m the one who planned his escape and provided him with aliases, untraceable transportation, and a safe house, I know exactly where he is and have continued to keep tabs on him.
I know he’s capable of taking care of himself, but he’s my brother.
And, for many years, he was my boss. Perhaps he still is.
Regardless of what’s happened with the Mafia, regardless of what happens in the future, some ties—blood ties—never break.
It’s my job to keep him hidden and safe for as long as that’s what he desires.
And with the uncertainty regarding the cartel’s movements, it’s more important than ever that he remains put until we can figure all of this out.
But then, that leaves Ariana, coming up on a year, alone and yearning for her lost love.
I can’t even imagine her pain. Though, as I consider what losing Darcy would feel like, perhaps I start to understand.
And that understanding provides me with empathy that I’m sure Ariana wishes I would’ve had all along.