ALESSIO #2
I rip the rest of her clothes off, and the sight of her completely naked steals the breath from my lungs.
Holy fuck. She's perfect. Her tits are high and full, the kind that fill my hands exactly right, soft and heavy, with dusky pink nipples already tight and begging.
I can picture the water cascading down her body, tracing the elegant dip of her waist before flaring out into hips that are wider and rounder than I ever imagined beneath those jeans.
Absolute perfection. The kind of hips a man can grip hard while he fucks her deep from behind.
That ass, round, firm, marked on her right cheek with an intricate, delicate black-and-silver constellation that flows into a fierce, stylized wolf howling at a crescent moon.
Exotic. Beautiful. Unexpected. Just like her.
It makes my cock jerk painfully against my stomach.
I want her in every filthy way I can think of.
Bent over the marble counter. On her knees with that sharp mouth stretched around me.
Riding me slow so I can watch those gorgeous tits bounce.
Face down, ass up, those wide hips in my hands while I pound into her until she screams. The hunger hits so hard it's almost painful. My cock is so stiff it aches.
I growl low in my throat, yank her against me, and crush my mouth to hers. I slap her bare ass as she steps into the massive shower, my eyes locking on the ink over her right cheek. She glances over her shoulder. "Do you have some kind of clean fetish or something?"
I chuckle darkly and strip out of the rest of my clothes, stepping in after her. The hot water cascades over us.
"No," I growl, pressing her back against the tiled wall. "But I do have a fucking-in-the-shower fetish."
I kiss her again, deep and hungry, hands exploring every wet curve. Her breasts are perfect in my palms, her nipples tight as I roll them between my fingers. She whimpers into my mouth.
I drop to my knees in the steaming water and bury my face between her thighs like a starving man.
Fuck. She tastes so fucking good. I groan loud and deep against her pussy, and the sound vibrates through her as I drag my tongue through her soaked folds.
Sweet. Slick. Addictive. I lick into her like I'm trying to devour every drop, sucking on her swollen clit while two thick fingers push deep inside her tight heat.
Beccs cries out, her hands fisting hard in my wet hair. "Alessio—!"
I work her harder, my tongue flicks fast and relentless while my fingers curl and stroke that perfect spot inside her.
Her legs start to shake violently against my shoulders.
I groan again, louder, almost feral, as more of her arousal coats my tongue and chin.
I can't get enough. But I also can't wait any longer.
If I do, I'll come like a teenager, just from finger fucking her.
I stand up in one fluid motion, lift her effortlessly, and pin her back against the tiled wall. Her legs wrap tight around my waist. I notch the swollen head of my cock at her entrance and thrust in with one smooth, brutal stroke, burying myself to the hilt.
"Take it," I rasp, voice wrecked. "Take every fucking inch, Beccs. That's it… good girl."
She clenches around me so perfectly I groan long and low. My forehead drops to her shoulder for a second as pure pleasure shoots up my spine. I start moving, deep, powerful strokes that slam her back against the wall with every thrust.
"Fuck, you feel so good," I growl against her wet skin as my teeth graze her neck. "This tight little pussy is squeezing me so fucking perfectly. Made for my cock, baby. Just like that… take it all."
I thought fucking her the first time was exquisite, but if I'm not careful, I could become totally addicted to her.
I piston harder, grinding against her clit with every deep thrust, my hands gripping those wide, perfect hips like anchors.
The wet slap of skin and her broken moans fill the shower. She's mine. At least for tonight.
Her head falls back, eyes fluttering shut. I keep talking—in a hoarse voice— filthy words between kisses and bites along her throat.
"Look at you… taking me so deep. Such a good fucking girl for me."
Her walls start fluttering around me. I thrust harder.
"Come for me, baby," I demand, voice low. "Come all over my cock. Let me feel you."
She shatters with a broken cry of my name, pulsing around me so hard it drags me right over the edge with her.
I bury myself deep and come with a guttural groan, hips jerking as I fill her.
We stay locked together under the hot water, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
This woman is going to be the death of me. And I'm not sure I mind.
Her body is soft and trembling against mine, completely spent. I press a slow kiss to her temple, then another to the corner of her mouth.
"Come on, baby," I murmur, voice rough. "Let's get you to bed."
I carry her out of the shower, dry her off gently, and tuck her into my bed.
She's already half-asleep, curling into the sheets with a soft sigh.
I watch her for a long moment, the way her lashes rest against her cheeks, the faint marks I left on her neck and shoulders.
My chest tightens with something fierce and unfamiliar.
I wait until her breathing evens out completely, until I'm sure she's deeply asleep, before I slip out of the bedroom.
In the living room, I pour myself a drink and stand at the windows overlooking the Strip. The city glitters below like it always does, beautiful and rotten at the same time. My mind is spinning from finding Beccs and discovering Razor still hunting Audra.
I pull out my phone and call Gabe. He answers on the second ring. "Yeah."
"You sound like shit," I say, not bothering with pleasantries.
A huff on the other end. "Funny. I was about to say the same thing."
There's a short pause. I can feel the leftover tension from our fight earlier, the sharp words, the line we both drew about Razor.
We might not be brothers by blood, but our bond runs deeper than that.
He's my brother in every way that matters.
I don't want to see him hurt. And I know he feels the same.
"We good?" He asks.
I pause long enough to let him sweat it. "Yeah."
It's not convincing, but enough.
"Why are you calling?" he gets to the point.
I rub the back of my neck. "I just wanted to let you know…" My tone shifts to business. "Razor's still looking for your girl.”
I hear Gabe go completely still on the other end. "What?"
"He's got a hard-on for her, like he's obsessed."
A dark, slow burn starts in my own chest just saying it out loud. I know exactly how that feels now. Beccs has me twisted up the same way.
"So you know this isn't going away," I add.
Gabe's voice is tight when he replies. "No. It's not."
I can practically hear him sitting up, mind shifting into that cold, lethal mode he gets when Audra is threatened.
"I'm going after him," he warns.
I expected it. Part of me even respects it. But the thought of him walking into that clubhouse while I'm still working other angles sits wrong with me. The earlier anger flares.
"No, you're not," I shoot back just as fast. "This isn't just your problem."
"He's looking for my woman," he snaps.
I get that. If Razor were after Beccs…
"Yeah," I admit slowly. "I figured you'd say something like that."
Realizing we have to come to some sort of compromise, I take a moment to think.
"Listen," I add with a sigh. "We don't move on Razor without coordination. Not with everything else going on."
Meaning Massimo. Meaning Salazar. Meaning the Collector. Everything is connected right now. Too connected.
"Fine," he grinds out, making me smirk. Gabe's known for his unpredictable temper. "You don't touch him without me."
"Same goes for you," I counter, needing to set the boundaries.
"Deal." He grunts.
"Get some sleep," I mutter, knowing one of us needs a cooler head right now. "You sound like you're about to do something stupid."
He huffs. "Too late for that."
I let out a snort. There he is. That sounds like my brother. "Yeah, I figured."
We hang up a few moments later. I stand at the window, drink in hand, staring out at the city that belongs to us.
Beccs is asleep in my bed. Gabe is ready to go to war for Audra.
And I'm stuck in the middle of both, trying to keep the people I care about alive while digging up ghosts I thought were long buried.
I finish the drink and set the glass down.
The plain brown envelope waits on the bar where I left it.
There is no letter. No demand. Only an old photograph of my mother and me, taken when I was young enough to believe she would never leave.
Luciana is crouched beside me, one arm around my waist, smiling as if I’m the most precious thing in her world.
Someone has written six words across the bottom in black ink.
She didn’t disappear. She chose to leave.
I turn the photograph over.
El Recaudador remembers what everyone else tries to forget.
My fingers tighten around the edges. The bastard wants a reaction. He wants me digging through the past while he moves pieces in the present.
Unfortunately for him, I’ve always been good at doing both.
Tomorrow is going to be a long fucking day.