Chapter 10 Saoirse
SAOIRSE
It’s a mystery how we make it back to Bruno’s motel room without tearing each other’s clothes off.
His kiss was sudden but not at all unpleasant.
All through drinks I’d been admiring the light that flooded his eyes when he spoke about his family, the humor licking around his words when detailing his tales of his time in prison and beyond, and the sadness when talking about his father.
Who knew we’d find common ground over trying to reach distant parental figures?
Sleeping with Bruno isn’t the smartest decision. Deep down, I know this. But his kiss was firm and sweet, his hands were strong, and he made me feel like I didn’t have to hold myself together with tape all by myself. It’s silly and fleeting but for one night, is it really that bad?
“Careful,” Bruno grunts against my lips as he stumbles over a bag lying on the floor.
My ankle catches on the strap and the only thing that stops me from falling over is Bruno’s arm around my waist. My shirt rides up and his fingers slip against the hot, bare skin of my back.
They’re as rugged as the rest of him, as rough as the beard that hugs his jaw and scratches my chin each time we gasp for air and break apart.
Then we clash back together like a clap of thunder and his hand remains unmoving around my waist until we reach the bed.
His rough henley catches on my knuckles when I bundle the fabric against my palm and try to rip it off him.
Laughter bubbles up inside him, a deep rumbling sound that vibrates against my lips when it escapes. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles.
I immediately lock my knees against his hips, wind one arm around his neck and flip us over on the bed so I’m on top.
“I’m not little,” I reply heatedly, sinking my teeth into his lower lip while groaning low in my throat.
He doesn’t fight as vigorously for dominance when I’m on top.
His palms slide right under my shirt and sweep up my back with a pleasant roughness that sends shivers all through my body.
Heat curls warm and insistent in my lower belly and my heart races to the same beat as I can feel in Bruno’s chest under my palm.
His hands continue upward until my shirt catches around his wrists and he pulls it over my head.
I toss my head back and forth to free my curls as Bruno discards my top, then leans up just enough to drag his own Henley off his shoulders.
Our mouths meet once more. I roll my hips down and trail my fingertips over the tantalizing slopes and curves of his muscular chest. Soft, dark hair coats his pecs and various small scars scatter across his body.
I trace them all like a dot to dot while our tongues wrestle for control over whose mouth they rest in.
Bruno caresses my back with both hands, then one dips down to the waistband of my jeans while the other swiftly unclasps my bra.
I sit up with a laugh. “You’re far too good at that.”
“You think?” His smirk turns sly, making him look rather fox-like with how dark his eyes have grown from lust. “Maybe I’m just that determined to get you naked that luck is on my side.”
“Bra’s are all about luck, huh?”
“Sure.” Both his hands sweep up my abdomen and rest just underneath my breasts where my bra hangs loose, teasing him with only a glimpse. He adjusts his hands until the swell of my under breast rests in the curves of each of his thumbs and his smile widens. “Tease.”
“Earn it,” I challenge.
In a flash I’m on my back once more and Bruno’s trailing a hot, damp path of kisses down my throat and across my collar bone.
The contrast between his rough, work-worn palms, his prickly beard and his soft lips drives me crazy.
Down and down he kisses over the swell of my breasts until he meets the lace edge of my loose bra.
My breath catches in my throat as he pulls the cups upward and trails the straps from my arms, exposing my breasts to his hungry gaze.
His smirk turns a little filthy and he glances up at me through his lashes, then he holds my gaze and kisses over my left breast to my nipple.
The moment he latches on with his hot mouth, I tip my head back and sink down into the bed with a groan.
My core tightens, my pussy throbs and suddenly he’s not moving fast enough.
I’m too hot. Sweat teases at the back of my neck and my panties are damp enough that each shift of my hips alerts me to how uncomfortable they’re becoming. I want them off. I want Bruno on.
Sliding my hand into his thick hair, I stroke through the strands and am briefly surprised to feel no telltale signs of gel like I’d previously thought. He wasn’t lying about the mousse.
Bruno’s teeth nibble lightly at my nipple then he catches the nub and lightly pulls away from me until my nipple slips from his teeth and he playfully bites the air.
Then he’s back to kissing down my body. Our hands meet at the hem of my jeans and together we wrestle with the denim until my legs are free.
He sheds his jeans just as quickly and then he’s back on me, buried between my legs and everything melts around me.
He licks against my soaked panties with zero hesitation and the subtle pressure of his tongue is enough to drive me crazy. I want more. I need more. I don’t want to be played and teased, I want to be gripped and held and fucked.
After tonight, I need it.
But Bruno continues to tease with flat, slow licks of his tongue against my panties until I can’t tell who soaked them more.
His hands run up and down my thighs until one pauses on a nasty, twisted scar.
A gift from Noah when he shot me in the hospital before kidnapping Evelyn a few years ago.
The bullet went in badly and came out just as twisted so the scar is impressive for a gunshot wound.
It’s making Bruno hesitate. His thumb lingers on the twisted, raised flesh and I can sense him wavering as if the fact I have scars has any influence on whether I deserve to get fucked or not.
“Hurry up!” I snap, moving my thigh out of his palm and dragging him back up by a fistful of hair.
He comes willingly with a groan and our mouths clash messily as I roll us over and climb into his lap.
His thick, hard cock presses against me through his boxers as soon as I settle in his lap and it’s all the information I need.
“Saoirse—” Bruno moans my name as if he’s about to say more but as soon as I shove my hand down his boxers and rapidly stroke his cock, he melts.
Words turn into breathy, needy pants that match the pace of mine and soon my palm is slick with pre-come and his hips are thrusting desperately in the air.
So I give him what we both need.
Pulling my panties aside, I align his cock with my pussy and sink down onto him in one smooth move.
He doesn’t fill me completely at first but my body weight helps me take him inch by inch.
He’s just thick enough that the delicious stretch I enjoy so much heightens my pleasure.
It’s a wonder I don’t come right there and then.
“F-Fuck,” I gasp, bracing both my hands on his muscular abdomen.
“Ah!” Bruno’s hands grip my waist and remain there until I bottom out and sit fully on his cock, with his fingers curling deep enough to indent my flesh.
But there’s no time to wait. As soon as I’m seated, I start moving with eager rocks of my hips back and forth, then subtle bounces that grow in eagerness as my body grows used to the slide of his cock.
His hands move. One curls around the back of my neck and pulls me down for a kiss and the other gropes my breast. Faster and faster I bounce in his lap, harder and harder I rock down chasing that delicious feeling that pushes me closer and closer to orgasm.
Soon, kissing becomes pointless and we’re simply forehead to forehead sharing the same air as our mingled moans fill the room.
His hips rise to meet me and each time I grind down against his pelvis, the additional rush of pleasure from my clit drives every sensation higher.
It’s fast and dirty, it’s too hot and not enough all at the same time. My mind locks onto the point of pleasure growing low in my belly and for a few frantic, sweaty seconds there’s nothing but the slick sounds of flesh against flesh, haggard panting and rough moans.
I come with a cry, throwing my head back and letting the pleasure take me. Bruno isn’t that far behind me and he seals the act with a deep kiss that makes me dizzy from how desperately I still need air.
It’s everything I need, and everything I didn’t know I needed.
It’s perfect.
The sun creeps high in the sky as I drive back to the penthouse, sated but worried.
Bruno and I parted on amicable terms but now that lust isn’t flooding my veins and my thoughts are more sane, the reality of what I just did hits.
It’s not the first time I’ve slept with someone so recklessly and Bruno seems fun—aside from the trying to kill me thing he had going on—but ignoring all of that for a minute, I have to focus on the other daunting secret weighing me down.
I’m pregnant.
The father is unknown.
I have a baby growing inside me and I shouldn’t ignore it. But I’m going to. Focusing on work is much easier and more pressing right now even if that little voice in the back of my head constantly chants about the baby and the overwhelming responsibility that comes with it.
It taunts me for miles all the way home until I’m finally able to wrestle the thoughts back into a box and store them for later. I need to focus on work and the family first since the baby isn’t a pressing issue. It won’t even be here for another eight months so what’s the rush?
That’s what I tell myself, at least.
The rumors circulating about human trafficking are no longer rumors after what we found in that house which means there’s a very real threat out there that I have to get to the bottom of.
One wrong move and the Irish/Italian alliance goes up in smoke.
Bruno’s determination to find out who’s using his father’s name to do such terrible things might just be the smoking gun I need to blow this whole thing open.
He’s an unknown player after being in prison for so long, and a fresh pair of eyes never hurt anyone.
Everything I’ve learned spins around my mind like a washing cycle as I yawn widely while walking into the penthouse. Maybe bed is the first call and then problem solving afterward.
“Saoirse?” Cian appears out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand and an electronic tablet in the other. “Shit, you look rough.”
“Long night,” I say as I toe off my shoes.
“I heard what happened at the house.” Cian offers me the coffee and I gratefully accept. “Nice catch.”
“Is it?” I stare at him over the rim as I drink. “We found a bunch of naked, abused women drugged up to their eyeballs in an abandoned house. You know what this means.”
“No,” Cian says. “There are a hundred reasons they could have been there. We don’t know for sure. You know better than anyone to not jump to conclusions.”
I should tell him about Bruno and the suspicion that someone is using the Del Prete name to move around the criminal underworld, but doing so goes against Cormac’s order to keep this as quiet as possible. Involving Cian probably isn’t the best move.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say after several gulps of coffee. “I’m too tired to think.”
“Are you too tired to look at masks?” Cian waves the tablet in his hand and for a moment, my exhaustion fades.
“Nope. Gimme.” Cian and I swap coffee for tablet and I start flipping through every single picture he’s accumulated from the Gala while walking toward my bedroom.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
I don’t answer, too engrossed in every mask that flicks across the screen. There’s every color and design imaginable all next to the faces of the person underneath the mask but it’s not until the masks start to loop that I realize the truth.
My green-masked mystery man isn’t here.
“Is this everyone?” I snap.
“Yes.”
“Cian, are you sure?” I spin to face him while struggling to keep the irritation out of my voice. “This isn’t a half-assed job, is it? This is everyone?”
“Yes!” Cian snaps back though he lacks any heat. “What the fuck, I did what you asked. That’s everyone who attended the masquerade that night okay?”
Shit.
So the green mask was a party crasher, is that it? Not only did I fuck stranger, but I also fucked someone that wasn’t even supposed to be there. My head spins.
“Saoirse, what is it?” Cian’s annoyance melts away to concern but as soon as he touches my arm, I pull away.
“Nothing.”
“Saoirse—”
“I’m going to bed.” The door slams in his face and I instantly regret it.
He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my irritation, especially when this mess is all of my own making.
Typically we tell each other everything but now I have to keep my investigation from him because of Cormac, and I can’t tell him about the baby because I haven’t even processed it properly.
And now my one chance to get answers is a dead end.
Fuck my life.
Sleep comes quickly thanks to exhaustion and I spend the next few days throwing myself into tracking down the names and identities of the women we found in the house.
With any luck finding out who they are will give me a lead toward who might have taken them and why.
Is it random? Targeted? Until one of them is coherent enough to talk to me, guesswork is all I have.
But I’m getting nowhere. These women might as well be ghosts and as frustration born from dead ends builds, I find myself turning to the one person who can understand.
“Saoirse!” Bruno’s warm tones buzzing down the phone instantly make me feel at ease but I’m not ready to unpack why. “And here I was thinking I’d rocked your world so much that you just couldn’t stand to talk to me again.”
“No,” I snort. “Don’t let that ego get in the way of reality.”
“Dang.” He sounds genuinely disappointed for a moment until he laughs. “What do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well, I’m going in circles here trying to track down who these poor women are and I’m hoping you’re either having better luck, or worse. Either would make me feel better.”
“I don’t know if I have better luck,” Bruno muses. “But how do you feel about shooting something?”