Chapter 43
Imoan and gasp at the sensations, first of the cool air on my naked skin, then of Alessio’s warm hands, and then his wet mouth.
Being so close between both of them makes my heart swell and race. It makes me me yearn. However much the storm of physical sensation explodes through me, I can’t deny the rising and pounding emotions I’m feeling, too. My body needs physical closeness with Bruno and Alessio, but the fact that Carlo isn’t here makes me want him all the more.
The slick head of Alessio’s cock is rubbing at my entrance. Bruno has my ass stretched hard on his cock. I want this so much.
I take a grip of Alessio’s fat shaft. It feels like the hardest thing I ever did, but I drop
Bruno lavishes wet kisses on my neck. Alessio grazes the other side with his teeth and lips. Their breaths and their voices are in both my ears, one on each side. I feel like I’m caught, swirling in a sea of men, while both of their cocks pound into me.
I shove Alessio back and drop my head onto his cock. Just in time. He pulls and pinches my nipples, hard as bullets.
Bruno fires thick splats of hot cum into my ass. Alessio’s cock shoots a torrent of gorgeous, thick jizz into my neck.
We all explode together. Huge. Loud. Wet and hot. And we sink into a delirious, six-arm embrace. Sticky. Drenched. Spent.
Dozily, I hear myself say into Bruno’s neck as I hold him, “This has to be what love feels like.” His head leans against mine, and he pulls me closer. I ramble on, “Real, raw, painful, joyous, grown-up adult love.”
When Bruno pinches and slaps my ass, it only intensifies the cloud of feeling. “Don’t you forget it, Princess.”
Alessio is warm and close on the other side, stroking me and whispering, “Principessa. Our principessa.”
One at a time, I kiss them both then hold eye contact. “I don’t mean just the thing that we do together, but the things, the feelings that go beyond the physical.” I look from one to the other again, “Tell me if I’m just being crazy. Are you feeling this, too?”
“Sure.”
“You’re our princess.”
As we start to rouse and dress, none of us can keep our hands off each other. Touching skin before it’s covered up. Bruno caresses my ass and my thighs before I sheath them back into my pants. Alessio touches and holds my breasts, planting kisses on my nipples.
He says, “We all need to stay together. Between us, we have something. I know I’m speaking for all of us.” He looks at Bruno. “We want you. We all want you. We want to keep you as our princess. Completely. I’m sure Bruno has told you why I shouldn’t inherit control of the family.” Bruno is almost grinning. “And he’s right.”
Surprised, I ask Alessio, “You don’t want it?” I’m surprised at what he said, but also at the realization they must have talked about this all in some detail. I get a thrill, just thinking of these men huddling to talk about me.
“I do.” His face is earnest. Ever the emperor. Or emperor in waiting, perhaps. “I was made to be a capo. But I wasn’t born to it. Not for this family.”
Without thinking, I say, “Carlo was.”
Alessio nods, solemnly, “Yes. In every sense, he was.”
Bruno says, “He has the head for it. If he was made head of the family now, he would easily be the smartest capo in the city, bar none. But he hasn’t been schooled to it. He hasn’t had a father to guide and steer him into the ways of power in this thing of ours.” His head shakes as he looks from me to Alessio and back, like the two men are sharing something they’ve already discussed.
Bruno’s eyes gleam. “I didn’t, either. I didn’t know my adopted dad for long enough, and the don has never been that to me.” He searches my eyes. “None of us are perfect for the role. We always agreed that the three of us together would be good, strong, and capable. That we would have each others’ backs, and we would support Alessio.”
Alessio’s nod is solemn.
“Ass though he is,” Bruno adds. “But the way things are these days, we might need to be more than that.”
Alessio says, “You have had that. With you, we could be unbeatable.”
“Yes.” The idea is dizzying. “You know that I was born to head a family. Only the conventions won’t allow it.”
Alessio colors. His temper is up. “Who cares about the fucking conventions? With all of us standing with you and for you, who can stop us?” But we all know who can.
Still, I’m shocked. What he’s proposing is what I’ve fantasized, sure. I’ve dreamed about it, but I haven’t let myself think about it seriously. Not the practicality. It’s more than I even dared put together in my wildest dreams. “Can we really do that?”
Bruno chuckles. “We can really do anything.”
I say, “I would need Carlo in on this.”
Bruno agrees, “But Carlo will be the first to say ‘yes.’ I know he will.”
I nod in agreement. “I know it, too. But it’s still for him to say. We don’t just take his vote for granted.”
Alessio says, “It doesn’t matter. However much we want it, the don will never allow it.” He shrugs. “I’ll tell him.”
“Sure, Alessio. That’ll do it.” The masculine knockabout between them gets me going a little.
Idiotically, I blurt, “What about the house? Or houses?”
Bruno freezes.
Alessio turns, “What?”
“On Wood Street. I heard you talking at breakfast.” I think I must have misunderstood, and what I want more than anything is for them to tell me that I did.
Both the men’s faces have fallen into expressions of cold stone. Bruno’s voice is flat and hard. “You’re not family, Lucy. Not yet.”
Alessio says, “We both hope you will be family. We all do. But, I know it’s the same in your family. It is everywhere. An outsider, however close, a guest in the house, is not expected to ask questions, prying into matters of business.”
Bruno’s face is dark. “I thought I knew you, Lucy.”
Alessio’s head shakes.
The two men straighten their clothes and they leave without another word.
Feeling lifeless and empty, I take a look around the summerhouse, checking to see that nothing is too much out of place. I’m weary to my bones. Just cleaning the cups from the coffee seems to drain more energy than I can find.
Probably I should gather the books back together and return them to the library. But I can’t be bothered. I leave them on the coffee table and step out of the summerhouse, into the watery sunshine. As I look back at the door, unbearable pangs claw at my insides, but there’s nothing I can do now. My feet shuffle on the path. I’m looking too much at the ground. It’s only when I’m in front of the gazebo that I see Jago’s steely-eyed grin.
Now I know for sure. The note under my coffee cup was a clever trap, and I skipped straight into it. Jago left the note.
Her chin tips up in a gesture of contempt and triumph.