Chapter 27 #2
His hand came for my hair. Fisted it so hard it felt like he might rip it off my skull.
His other hand gripped my shoulder and shoved me off at the same time.
His movements were so contradictory. I played with him.
Delighting in his fight not to take pleasure.
Pulling out, I kept only his tip in my mouth.
Wrapped my lips tightly around it and sucked.
I looked up to find his gaze half-lidded.
His jaw strained and tight. Then he caught my eyes.
He relaxed his jaw and pushed out words with so much effort that it couldn’t have sounded believable even to him. “You suck at it.”
I pulled him out. Fisted my hand around him and pumped him once. “Suck? You? Why yes, of course.” I went back to sucking him off.
“Jesus,” he moaned, head falling back to his chair.
I’d smile if I wasn’t full of him. And if I wasn’t so turned on. He was so strong. A solid block of power. And so irritatingly male. Watching his control slip was an aphrodisiac shot right into my veins. I had to squeeze my thighs to try to stop the pulsing need between my legs.
He thickened in my hand. Pulsing inside my mouth.
He didn’t seem to realize it, but he’d given up on shoving me away some time back.
When he rolled his head up, our gazes locked.
“If you don’t want me to come—” I doubled my effort.
“Christ.” He gritted his teeth, trying to fight it anyway.
“I can’t not—” his words broke into a moan.
It was so guttural and raw I felt it in my core.
His grip on my hair tightened. His thighs surrounding me turned into bricks.
Then his entire body vibrated as he broke and came apart in my mouth.
I took each jerk and swallowed each drip down.
When he finally stopped pulsing, I let go of him and fell onto my back.
His breathing thundered in the room. He didn’t look at me when he tucked himself away, but I didn’t miss the tremor in his hands.
I wanted to point it out. Tell him I’d won, and I wanted my answers, but my throat had gone dry and words had erased from my mind.
I couldn’t do it. It would make the entire act dirty, and I didn’t know why but I didn’t want that.
His gaze hooked onto mine. We stared at each other.
The heat rising instead of sinking. The strange tension between us crackled like a thing alive.
I made to move away. His hand hooked onto my wrist. With the glide of his other hand, he swept his papers off the desk and shoved his screen to the side.
I only got what his intentions were when he yanked me off the floor and dropped me on his desk.
He spread me wide, pushed himself between my legs, and lifted his shirt up. When his hand reached for my thong, I gripped his and brought it to a stop. We stared at each other. Breathing heavy. Unanswered questions between us.
“What do you want?” Need wrung out of his words. A tone I’d never heard from him. It almost sounded like desperation to me.
I had to use it, even if I hated myself for doing it. I had to give this madness a purpose to survive it. “Why do you have his pipe?”
“Because I do,” he clipped.
I gritted my teeth and tried again. “What do you mean he sees patterns?”
His eyes dulled. I thought he wouldn’t answer, but after a long beat, he did. “He was dangerous with numbers. He was a mathematical genius.”
I stared at him. “Like you?” I croaked.
He shook his head. Stared to the side before bringing his gaze back to mine. For a second, he looked almost pained. “Better. Way better.”
My mind was chaotic. I tried to dismantle his words. “I thought he was just an accountant.”
“That was just a cover.”
I swallowed. A cover? The ugly head of doubt came crawling for me. He watched me. Waited for another question. He would probably have answered all of them. But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to ask them. I was not so sure that I wanted to hear the rest of it.
He took my silence as consent. Snapping my thong to the side, he buried his head between my thighs.
I’d punished him. He gave it back to me tenfold.
Splitting my lips open, he shoved his tongue deep inside.
Instantly, I bucked underneath him, melting into heat and liquid under his attack.
He didn’t relent. With one hand, he pinched my clit while he tongue-fucked me like there was no tomorrow for either of us.
I groaned. I whimpered. I held onto the back of his desk and rocked my hips in his face.
He muttered things. All Italian. I didn’t have the brain capacity to think or act on them.
Then he ran his tongue from entrance to top and sucked my clit into his mouth.
It was the trigger I needed. It set me off.
I gripped his head, my body convulsing as I came screaming.
It kept going on and on and wrung my body out.
When I finally came down from it, it felt like my bones had melted into liquid heat.
When he came up, his lips were thick. Glistening wetness around them.
A shiver of shame ran through me. But I forgot it under his heated focus.
He looked at me with such longing. I knew he wanted to be inside me.
Bare, like he’d done the last time. How did he know I was protected?
My glance dropped to the thickness behind his pants, and a need ran in my veins, too.
But he stopped it instantly. With words I hadn’t asked for. Words that he gave anyway.
“He was helping us.”
My body turned to ice. “No.” I shook my head. Papá was good. He wasn’t a thief. He wasn’t the bad guy. Every time the accusation resurfaced in my memory, I pushed it down. He couldn’t have been involved in crime.
His face turned bitter. Reading the words on my face. “He was forced into it.”
I fumbled to sit up. “?Por qué? I don’t understand.”
“I told you. Nothing could get past him. He could see numbers like no one else did,” he snapped.
I pulled back at his tone. He regretted it instantly and reached for me. I backed away. “No me toques,” I snapped. The last thing I needed was his hands on me.
I’d held onto the hope that Papá was innocent.
That it had been a random kill. But his talent was what had gotten him killed.
Heartbreak ripped through me. I mourned the man he had been.
The one who could have done so many things other than what he’d done.
He could have left a legacy instead of being forced into the Mafia.
The hot prick of tears burned my eyes. I needed to get out of his face. I refused to let him see me break.
But somehow, he knew. Even when I shoved him away weakly, he gathered me into his arms. I curled into his chest, hiding the silent stream of tears. He brought me again to his bed. And again, he left me there. Alone. With sobs that wrenched out of me the moment the door shut behind him.