Julian
Twenty-Four
W aking up in my bed with two people instead of one was not on my bucket list of things to do in the new year, but fuck me, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I always thought that if I ever got Grace I would have her to myself, yet sharing her with my best friend, my brother, is a much fucking better option.
Fuck, watching her get pleasured by Dante turned me the fuck on.
I need to see it again. Multiple times a day for the rest of my short sadistic life.
We barely got her to eat last night, she kept falling asleep at the table, so when we finally got her to bed, she conked out immediately laying on my bare chest. Dante snuggled up behind her, his face in her neck.
And that's the position I woke up in. I really don’t wanna leave.
But if I don’t text my mother soon wishing her a happy new year, she will be calling.
And trust me when I say that if I don’t call her back within a few minutes, she will send my father.
And that’s someone I wouldn’t want to introduce to Grace yet.
Or ever.
If I could hide my family away from her I would, but she’s been big on family lately. It’s only natural for her to be curious about mine one day.
As if on cue, my phone starts to vibrate from where it lays in my jeans pocket on the floor. Grace starts stirring against me.
“Sorry, treasure.” I lift her off me, shuffle out of bed, and wrap Dante's arm tighter around her. If I can’t hold her while she sleeps, he can do it for me. Lucky bastard.
“Hi, mum.” I whisper, sneaking out of the room in just my boxers.
“Don’t hi mum me.” She sounds pissed and I internally wince, what have I done to upset her now? “Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?”
Pea! I swear that woman can’t keep her mouth shut!
“It’s a new relationship.” I half lie . I mean, is it new? I’ve classed the last three years as us being together, but has she?
“Uh-huh, so when are you gonna bring her to see us?” I walk into the kitchen area and flick on the kettle. “Has she met your father yet?”
“No.”
“J, you can’t hide him forever. He loves you so much.”
“He has a funny way of showing it.” I take a cup from the cupboard and throw in a teabag, I really don’t want to have this conversation right now.
“He’s not perfect, J, I know that. But he’s trying.”
“Is he?” I scoff. The last time my father tried to do anything nice for me was when he helped Bull out with the twins.
I guess he is trying, I supposed I best do too.
“Yeah, he’s on a plane to come be with us now.” Wow, he actually took some time away from his precious work to spend time with his wife. “Please make an effort too.”
“I’ll try.” I hate disappointing my mum. I hear shuffling coming down the hall and smile. I’d recognise those tiny tired footfalls anywhere. “How’s your party?” I ask, taking the subject away from daddy dearest.
“Just amazing!” Mum laughs. “We have had over twenty people cancel because they want to go and see the fireworks live.” I chuckle at her tutting and wrap my arm around a yawning Grace as she flops her body against mine.
Mum hates live fireworks, says they’re too loud and the place is too crowded.
“I wish you were here to celebrate with us.” She sighs.
“Maybe next year.” I say maybe, but if mum asks, I would gladly go.
“Ohh, really!” She squeals, the alcohol obviously hitting. “Bring the others and your girlfriend too!” Grace giggles at me having to pull the phone away from my ear at mum's loudness. “OMG,” yes she actually says O M G, “is that her with you now. Let me speak to her.”
“Mum…”
Grace puts her hand out, giving me a small smile as I put the device into her palm. “I guess I’ll make the tea then.” I kiss her temple, then watch her sweet ass as she walks away from me, her angelic voice saying hello to the second best woman in my life.
“Morning, asshole.” Dante stretches as he joins us in the living room, Grace gasps and looks our way as I call him a dickhead back.
“It’s alright, gattina. It’s just something we do.
” He winks, she seems sceptical, but eventually goes back to the conversation with mum.
Dante grabs his own cup from the cupboard and makes himself a coffee - ew - before turning all his attention on our woman. “That mum on the phone?”
“You know it.” I roll my eyes.
“And you’re okay with her talking to Grace? What if…” I shrug, cutting him off.
“She’s going to have to meet them some time right?” I exhale loudly. “I just hope it’s later rather than sooner.”
“Same,” he nods. “Hopefully she understands why you haven’t told her already.” I finish making the teas, walk over to Grace, followed closely by Dante and hand her her drink.
“No way.” She laughs at something my mum says. “Pink, really?”
Oh, God no.
“It’s where?.” Grace stands quickly and runs into my bedroom, taking my phone with her.
Shit.
Dante bursts out laughing when he realises what Grace is going for, I go to run after her.
Too late.
Her entertained howls echo around the whole building.
She’s found the secret photo album mum adds photos to every year.
Luckily they’re just me and none of my family.
She comes back into the room, holding a photograph in her hand.
“I’m keeping this one.” She informs me. “It’s going straight up in my living room. ”
“No.” I catch a glimpse of the bright pink hair bow I begged mum to get when I was six.
And then, because I was a very curious and mischievous child, I decided to raid mum's jewellery box and makeup.
Instead of getting mad at me at the time, my petty-ass mother decided to take a picture, print it out and tape them to lamposts all over the town on my 18th birthday.
Dante saw them first as we exited the first pub. And then she made me pay her back for all the makeup she had to replace. I moved back to the US soon after, too embarrassed to show my face in London again.
Now when I visit I stay in Nana’s house, never leaving until it’s time to go to the airport.
“Aww, let her keep it.” Mum says over speakerphone while Grace pokes out her bottom lip.
“You’re fucked, dude.” Dante chuckles.
“Hi, Dante!” Mum slurs.
“Ciao, mamma.” Grace slides the phone across to him while he and mum carry on their conversation in Italian.
“Grace…” I narrow my eyes at her . She takes a step back with a smirk.
“If you really want it back, you’re gonna have to come and get it.
” She spins and runs. I wait a few seconds before giving chase.
She doesn’t know her way around the warehouse, but it’s not large enough for her to get lost. Seeing her having so much fun, hearing her giggles bounce off the walls, does something to me. Something primal yet tender.
She chose us both.
Both!
And I don’t know if my heart can take it. When she didn’t stop us last night, when she begged for us to touch her the organ in my chest burst into a fucking rainbow. No longer the black background with Grace’s colourful paintings, my heart belongs fully to her.
I need to quit the hitman life. I need to give her the normal life she deserves. I just hope my boss understands.
I check the tattoo room first, hoping she will let me ink her again, and to my disappointment she’s not in here. After checking another two rooms - the one where we keep all our cleaning equipment and the one with all the spare clothes for the team - I find her in the bedroom.
Kneeling on the bed. Holding my mask. Naked. All thoughts of the photo long gone after her giving me the ‘come fuck me’ eyes.
“Grace.” I slowly saunter toward her. “What are you doing?” The tee she had on less than two minutes ago is discarded on the floor.
“Put this on.” She throws my mask at me. “And then I want you to lose all control.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I know.” Her naked breasts bob up and down in time with her heavy breaths. “But I trust you, Mr Stalker. I felt you holding back last night.” I take her mask from where I keep it safe in the drawer and slide it over her head.
“Lose all control?” I ask, needing her to confirm.
“All of it.” The knife from last night lays on the floor right beside the discarded clothes. I bend and grasp the blade in my hand. Not just to prove to her I’m not a threat, but to give me a sharp bit of pain to let me know I’m not still dreaming.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” I try again to make her change her mind. I won’t lose all control with her yet. Not yet.
“All. Of. It.” She repeats more confidently. Keeping my eyes on hers through the eyeholes of her mask, I ever so slowly glide mine over my head, not fully pulling it down so my lips are still exposed.
“Wait here.” I need Dante in here, I don’t trust myself.
He’s finished with the call by the time I get back into the living room. “That was quick,” he chuckles. “I thought for sure you would last longer than a minute.”
“Funny bastard.” I scoff. “I bet I can last longer than you.” I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe.
“Sure.” He rolls his eyes. “Loser has cleaning duty for the next three kills.”
“Deal. Get your mask. I think our girl has a mask kink.” I smirk, he finally turns to face me. “She’s asked me to lose all control, but I don’t trust myself. I need you with me.”
He nods once, stands and goes out to his car. The brazen bastard went out in just his boxers. I shiver at the thought of the cold January air.
“Ready.” He confirms and follows me to the bedroom.
I have to calm my overthinking brain as I enter, seeing my - our - Grace, wearing nothing but her blood stained mask. My dick twinges, already wanting to be inside her tight wet cunt.
Her eyes dart to Dante, then back to me. I love that I can see her eyes. They’re fucking beautiful, and so expressive.
I twist the knife between my fingers, yet she never looks away from me. Dante sits in the chair in the corner of the room, crossing his legs and gripping tight on the arms. Needing something to hold other than Grace.
Not being able to touch her is emotional torture, I should know.