Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
My lips part in a shock and he takes it as an invitation, crushing his mouth against mine.
His lips are soft, plump, and gentle as he kisses me in a way that melts me to the core.
I lean into him sliding my hands up his chest and latching them around his neck.
He pulls me onto his lap, kissing me deeper like I’m his oxygen.
My fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he runs his hands along my outer thighs.
I shift my weight and feel his hard length press against my sensitive area.
I gasp.
He palms my ass and stands up.
I wrap my legs around his waist.
Walking through the house, while his mouth claims mine, he kisses me like he’s been waiting years, and so have I.
Reaching the bedroom, we collapse on the mattress.
His body presses over mine and I like the feel of his weight against me.
He brushes the baby hairs from my face and locks eyes with me.
“I need you.” His words are hoarse and rough against my cheek. “I need all of you. Forever.”
Breath catches in my throat as my fingers fumble with his shirt, pulling it over his head.
His body is warm against mine, all lean muscle with a hint of mint.
He kisses down my throat, each press of his lips slow and calculated.
His hands explore my body, and his mouth finds the sensitive spot at the crease of my neck and shoulder,
I arch into him gasping.
His fingers slide beneath my waistband and my pants melt away along with his.
My shirt follows soon after.
Settling between my legs, he parts the folds until he finds my clit and flicks his tongue against it.
“You taste so good, baby,” he growls.
My body clenches in pleasure as I lock his hair around my fingers.
“Oh my god, yes.”
He continues to swirl over the sensitive spot until my legs start to tremble.
Then cupping his hands under my butt, he flips me over onto my stomach.
With quick hands he spreads the cheeks and sticks his tongue deep into my asshole.
I scream and grip the edges of my pillow.
He doesn’t swirl around the opening but instead fucks my little opening with his tongue, drilling it over and over like a jackhammer.
The ebbs of pain mixed with the pleasure swirl through me as I cry out into the pillow.
“Don’t muffle those beautiful sounds,” he growls. “There’s no one here but us. Let me hear it.”
He flips me again like I’m a rag doll.
My back makes contact with the blankets.
Spreading my legs, he enters me. I feel him stretch my walls.
Our bodies move together, our breaths mingling as we moan into each other’s mouths.
He presses his forehead to mine, moving faster.
The weight of him on top of me is comforting.
I scrape my nails down his back as I fall apart beneath him, gasping his name.
He follows seconds later and buries his face in the crook of my neck.
Trembling, he pulls me closer, a low groan rumbling in his throat.
Pushing himself off of me, he lays at my side.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, kissing my skin.
I rest my head against his chest as his arms fold around me.
I wish I could believe him, but pillow talk doesn’t always come to fruition.
The news about my father surfaces in my mind as I come down from the sexual high I’ve been on.
My father was murdered.
Now I have to find out who did it and burn them to the ground.
Strangely my thoughts drift back to Francesca and how my father’s love for her started this whole revenge plot.
“What are you thinking about?” Dominic asks. “You feel tense.”
“Francesca. How she never really got a chance to experience real love and the love she had got her killed.”
“I know,” Dominic murmurs. “It’s such a shame. I can’t even imagine the sorrow your father must have felt.”
Sorrow.
The word triggers my memory to shift to the stanzas of the poem that had been delivered to me.
Sorrow for the lost Lenore
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.
My blood runs cold.
How could I have not realized it?
This killer is a genius.
Every detail is carefully calculated.
Every chess piece. Every feather. Every word has a message behind it.
This is a sick, psychological, cat and mouse game where one missed clue means death.
For days I’ve been plagued with thoughts of who Lenore is?
Lenore. Lenore.
Who the fuck is Lenore?
Now I know who the fuck Lenore is…
I draw back from Dominic and look at him.
“I just realized why the killer sent the stanzas from the poem. The raven is in reference to the Marconi Family coming for revenge, that’s obvious, but there’s a deeper meaning behind it.”
“Like what, Amore?” Dominic raises his eyebrows.
I take a deep breath and gather my thoughts.
“Lenore is Francesca…”