Chapter 6 #2
It was the only thing that gave me the slightest ounce of satisfaction.
I still can’t believe he did that. Will I be forever left to wonder if Damien and Rosie get together?
And don’t even get me started on what he did to Big-O.
My clitoris and I are both devastated at her loss.
She brought us countless hours of pleasure.
She deserved better.
I deserved better.
I turn off the burner on the stovetop and reach for a plate just as I hear, “Something smells good.”
My first instinct is to look out the window, since logic tells me that’s where that voice should be coming from, but when I don’t see Romeo anywhere in the backyard, I briefly glance behind me. My eyes narrow into slits the moment I do.
“How did you get inside?”
When he reaches up to bop the tip of my nose, I instinctively slap his hand away. “I’m a career criminal, sweetheart. Did you forget that?”
“So, you broke in?”
“I live here, Lucia, so I wouldn’t class it as a break and enter.”
He moves over to the cutlery drawer and grabs the knives and forks to begin setting the table as if last night never happened. It’s a sight I usually love to observe, but this morning it makes me livid.
He’s wasting his time setting a place for himself because I only cooked breakfast for one this morning.
I wait until he’s seated before I bring my food to the table. I’m still standing beside my chair as his eyes move from my plate to my face.
He leans back in his seat and glances around me, searching for his breakfast.
“Where’s mine?”
“I don’t cook for murderous bastardos.”
A smug smile curves his lips as he reaches for my plate, dragging it towards himself.
“Hey,” I protest, my hand shooting out to grab it back, but his fingers close around my wrist before I can.
He then does something unexpected … he tugs me down onto his lap.
“Looks like we’re sharing, then. I’m starving.” Romeo’s arm slips around my waist as I try to stand, holding me firmly in place. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart,” I mutter, although up until last night, I would’ve given anything to be just that. “We are enemies now.”
He barks out a laugh. “You’re not my enemy, Luc. I know it, and so do you.”
I can’t argue with that, but hell will freeze over before I admit it.
“I’m not your sweetheart,” I reiterate.
“No, you’re not. You’re actually a huge pain in my arse, but I know better than to poke the bear when she’s already pissed.”
My head snaps towards him. My lips purse and eyes narrow—my attempt at a death glare. “Pretty sure you just poked her.”
He blows out a long, frustrated breath. “I don’t want to fight with you, Lucia. But that fucker had it coming.”
“That fucker had a name.”
His eyebrows jump. “It did?”
“Yes. Big-O. And she was innocent in all this. All she ever did was bring me pleasure. What you did to her was cruel. Barbaric, even.”
He sighs and leans forward, resting his forehead on my shoulder. “She had no right to do that.”
“What? Give me pleasure?”
“Yes.”
“I know … you should’ve been the one doing it, but you’re too stubborn and pigheaded to admit it.”
He glances up at me, and something in his eyes tugs at my heart. He looks … pained. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You’re a grown-arse man. You can do whatever the hell you like.”
“I am the underboss of the Mancini Cosa Nostra. My loyalty, first and foremost, is to my Famiglia.”
“Did Dante tell you not to touch me?”
He turns his face away and lifts one shoulder as he expels all the air from his lungs, which is enough for me.
“I’m going to kill him,” I say as I try to stand again, but Romeo holds firm.
“You are not going to do any such thing.”
“Watch me,” I growl.
“You’re a Mafia princess, whether you like it or not. He is only looking out for your best interests. I know all about that ridiculous ritual your father made him and Arabella go through.”
“My father is dead!” I deadpan. “That stupid ritual died right alongside him.”
“You are a feisty little thing this morning.”
“Do you blame me? People have told me what I can and can’t do all my life. I’m sick to death of it. I’m nineteen now. I’m an adult. I can legally drink and vote in this country.”
“You can’t vote if you’re not an Australian citizen.”
“One day I will be. But that’s beside the point.”
He sighs. “All of that aside, I’m thirty-two, Lucia. You’re far too young for me.”
“Age is just a number.”
“You’re barely legal.”
“Barely being the operative word here.”
“Our breakfast is getting cold.”
“My breakfast,” I retort. “I didn’t make you any, remember?”
“You like looking after me, Luc. Even if you’re mad, I know you won’t let me starve.”
“You’re right, I am mad. So damn mad. And frustrated. I was brought to the brink two nights in a row, only for you to ruin it before I reached my end goal. I can’t even go to my room now and get the release I so desperately need because you shot Big-O … you blew her to smithereens.”
When his body bobs with silent laughter, my elbow shoots back, connecting with his ribs. “Let me go,” I grumble, wiggling around on his lap to try and free myself from his hold.
“Please don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Move around on my lap like that.”
I open my mouth, ready to give him a snarky reply, but then I feel it. That monstrous salami stick in his pants is starting to harden.
My cheeks balloon as I puff out a breath. “All this sexual tension is going to kill me.”
“You’re being a tad dramatic now, Lucia.”
“No, I’m not. I’m starting to doubt if I’ll even make it to the ripe old age of twenty. I’m going to keel over and die from a tragic lack of Os before my next birthday rolls around.”
He rests his forehead against my shoulder blade with a groan as his hands slide to my hips. “Stand up.”
“Why? I’m comfortable here,” I state, raising my chin.
He chuckles, then effortlessly lifts me to my feet with that familiar brute strength. I’d been starting to warm to him again, but that move wiped it away.
He grabs my hand as I reach for my plate, stopping me. “Turn around,” Romeo orders, shifting my body.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
My natural instinct is to defy him, like I used to do with my father.
It’s something that came naturally growing up, even though I knew deep down I’d eventually relent once Papa produced his gun, I still couldn’t resist that initial spark of rebellion.
It flares up now too, warming my chest, but this time, it’s not fear that makes me obey; it’s curiosity, and something darker I don’t want to name.
Slowly, I turn around as my heart thumps in my chest. “What are you doing?”
“Something I’m sure I’ll regret. Now straddle my lap.”
My eyes widen. “Why?”
“Just do as I say, woman, and stop asking so many questions.”
A flicker of excitement rushes through me as I obey. This is the nearest I’ve ever been to him. Face-to-face with our breaths mingling.
From this vantage point, I can see the dark flecks in his silvery-coloured eyes, which are framed by thick, inky lashes.
His expression gives nothing away, but his eyes are like a window to his soul. They allude to something deeper … something more profound.
They’re intense, haunted, hungry, and laced with something else I can’t quite name. It terrifies me how much I want to understand this man. To crack him open, crawl inside and discover all his secrets.
It’s enough to make me ache for the little boy who had to grow up with the kind of mother he did. I want to wrap him in a hug and give him all the love he missed out on, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t let me.
“What are we doing?” I ask in a whisper.
He doesn’t answer me at first, but his fingers curl around my sides, dragging me closer. My spread legs are flanking his hips, and his erection is pressing right against my clit.
His conflicted eyes lock on to mine, searching, like he’s battling something deep within, but after a tense pause, he finally says, “I’m giving you a free pass.”
I narrow my eyes. “A free pass for what, exactly?”
“To get yourself off, Lucia. Since I’m the reason you’re frustrated, it’s the least I can do. Call it my contribution to your preservation.”
“We’re going to have sex?”
He tilts his head back and groans before saying, “No, we are definitely not doing that.”
“Then what are we doing? I don’t understand.”
He lets go of his grip on my sides and places his hands behind his head, his elbows spread wide.
“I’m not going to do anything. I’m going to sit here while you grind your pussy against me until you find the release you’re so desperately seeking.
Then you will get off me, and we’ll eat our breakfast, and pretend this never happened. ”
“Can I kiss you?”
His eyebrows pinch into a frown. “No!”
“That’s a little unfair.”
“Did you kiss that silicon fucker?”
“Big-O,” I correct as I screw up my face in disgust. “Eww. Of course not.”
“Think of me as the replacement, and nothing more,” he says, his voice rough and laced with restraint. “Now start grinding, sweetheart, before I come to my senses and change my mind.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I rest my hands on his strong shoulders and slowly, tentatively … excitedly, roll my hips forward.
“Oh, God,” I whimper as I repeat the action and bury my face in his chest, inhaling deeply. I could drown in this man’s scent. I’m in sensory overload.
Even though Romeo is not moving, I already feel like I’m on the edge. I’ve never been able to get myself off without assistance, and I’m finding my silicon friend doesn’t compare to this man.
Pausing, I give myself a moment because I don’t want this to be over too quickly. I may never get the chance to grind against his glorious cock again.
“Keep moving, sweetheart,” he encourages, dropping one of his hands to rest on the base of my spine, pushing my body further into his. I can’t hold back the moan that falls from my lips when he does that. “Don’t go all shy on me now.”
I bite my bottom lip between my teeth as I begin to rock my hips again. Slowly at first, but before long, my body starts to move of its own accord, chasing that delicious O.
Romeo lowers his forehead to my shoulder, his breath shallow against my ear. The way he holds himself so still, like he’s made of stone and sheer willpower, has my pulse racing.
My fingernails dig into his flesh through the fabric of his shirt as I turn my face slightly to kiss the warm skin on his tattooed neck. He smells divine.
He doesn’t stop me, so I push things a little further, doing something I’ve wanted to do since I met this man … I unashamedly lick him. From his collarbone right up to his jawline. Moisture floods my underwear, and when I feel his body quake beneath me, I know he’s just as affected as I am.
I alternate between pecks, licks, and deep, open-mouthed kisses. I’ve never kissed a man, so I’m not even entirely sure I’m doing it right. I’m just allowing my body’s natural instincts to take over.
I’m right there, tethering on the edge, but I’m torn between reaching my goal and this moment coming to an end. I spread my legs a little wider and throw my head back.
“Romeo,” I mewl.
“Yes, just like that,” he encourages. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
There is no stopping the inevitable, even with his encouragement, but I find myself wishing we didn’t have clothes on.
I wish he were inside me.
But this is a positive start. It’s the closest he’s ever let me get to him, so I’m going to take this as a win.
My body is climbing to that point of no return at an alarming rate, but I’m now too lost in the euphoria of him to care.
He suddenly drops his other hand and grasps my hip. His fingers dig painfully into my flesh, and I know it will leave a mark, but I welcome it. It will be a reminder of this … of him. Of the day that started shitty, but quickly morphed into the best day of my life.
“Oh my God, Romeo,” I moan again when his resolve suddenly snaps and he starts to thrust his hips up against me.
“Am I hurting you?” he grunts.
“No, don’t stop. Give me everything you’ve got.”
His hands move down to cup my arse as he begins to guide me, dragging me against each powerful thrust. Even when I fall over the edge, he doesn’t stop his assault on my body.
When his movements become jerky and he grunts out, “Lucia,” I’m pretty sure he found his own release, and I can hardly put into words how that makes me feel.
I’m soaring, weightless in his arms, until he suddenly lifts me off his lap, placing me on my feet.
The warmth of him vanishes instantly as he rises and kicks back the chair he was just seated on.
I stare up at him in confusion when I see the fury radiating off him.
Without a word, he storms out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, the bathroom door slams shut with a deafening crack, and I flinch like I’ve been slapped. The silence that follows drags up a deep-seated pain I can’t fully grasp.