Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
ADELINA
Last night was hazy, memories swirling in my dreams, and when I woke up in my bed, I was sure it wasn’t real. Until I moved and pain thrashed against my pussy and ass cheeks, more pain shooting out from my wrists and ankles. I rubbed my wrist and then hissed. The bruises were pale, and there were rope burns too.
“Don’t touch them,” said a voice beside me, and I startled through the waking haze.
Graff was on his side, head propped up on his fist. Concern etched his features like a different kind of tattoo.
I reached out my hand—more soreness shooting through my joints—and touched the lines of his face and then down the tattoos on his neck and behind his ears. The whole time, Graff said nothing, just watched me from the corner of his eye.
He practically froze under my touch.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I murmured.
“I know.” He kissed my fingertips. “But you’re hurt.”
“I’ll be fine.” While the words left my lips without me thinking, I knew they were true.
I was already feeling fine. Better than fine. Now that I was in Graff’s arms—him having held me all night—the pain seeped away.
For the first time, I felt . . . home.
“How are you feeling now?” he asked in a soft tone.
“Happy,” I murmured.
He raised his eyebrows.
“What?” I asked, almost laughing. When did I start doing that? Oh, right. Last night. But something had bubbled up from me and was still leaving me floating. This bed even seemed softer than ever before. “Can’t I be happy?”
He scoffed. “After last night, I just figured you would be, well, something besides happy.”
I studied him like he studied me. Realization dawned for how odd my desires were. And worry crept into my chest over what he might think of me now. Having been there.
Having used me like that.
“Am I becoming too much like one of the whores?” I asked.
He shook his head feverishly. “I don’t use that word. And I don’t think that about you at all, Adelina.”
“But you think it’s weird that I liked what happened?” My voice was strained, and my heart pounded.
Rejection beat against my ribcage. Humiliation for what I had craved but could never have before. The desires I never knew how to voice. Last night had been perfect in my mind, and I thought Graff would understand.
But I saw now how wrong I was. Embarrassment burned my cheeks.
He took my hand and laced our fingers together. “I would never judge you for your sexual appetite, Adelina. It’s not weird to me.”
I smirked. “To others?”
“Who the fuck cares what others think?” He waved a hand as if he were shooing away a gnat. “No one has a claim to normal. It’s different for everyone.”
“Because we’re in the Mafia and MC?” I sighed, then mused, “Those aren’t very normal lives, are they?”
“No, they aren’t,” he agreed, smiling.
His fingers interwove with mine, sliding our palms closer together and then retreating. The way he studied everything he did was so fucking intense. I half expected to see a new drawing around the warehouse of our hands half-interlaced.
“But normalcy,” he continued, “and all that is considered normal... those are just constructs that change over time. No one is normal . We can only be and embrace who we are.”
He wrapped his fingers around my palm and held my hand like we were high-school sweethearts.
Staring at the symbols inked on his fingers and feeling how large they were, I wanted them back inside of me, or more. I knew Graff’s hand and his touch. It had been different from Sas’s cock moving inside me. Graff’s touch. His movement. His body. Just how we fit together. All those things were different—more peaceful.
Desire for him again was starting to burn. A fire was awakening in me, and he could fan in the flames.
The same inferno had to be sparking in him because he was watching me with narrowed eyes. It was the same concentration I had seen when he had tattooed me. Like I was a blank canvas or clay he could mold to his artist’s design.
Graff propped himself up on his elbow and used his other hand to slide his finger across the bare skin on my chest, drawing circles or an imaginary pattern only he could see. A soft smile played on his lips and lit up his eyes.
It took over his face and made him look younger than ever before.
Suddenly, he rolled me over, so part of his weight pressed me into the bed. He still had on clothes and there was a sheet wrapped around me—accursed barriers—but I could feel his erection pressing against me. Graff’s eyes roamed over my face, and I held my breath, waiting. Wanting.
When his lips came down on mine, they weren’t demanding, but coaxing and reassuring me that he would take good care of me.
Such a drastic contrast to the fuck fest Sas initiated last night. So different, yet so.. . needed. The variety touched different places in my mind and heart. This, I wanted too.
While Sas offered danger, thrill, and uncertainty, I also relished the thought of having someone who would kiss me leisurely and take their time drawing out both our pleasure. A person who might hold me when I felt down.
Those things, I don’t think I could ever expect from Sas.
But Graff? He was giving me that without being pushed or asked.
His tongue slipped against mine in long, deliberate strokes and then pulled back before he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling. When he released my mouth, he trailed moist kisses down my throat, the air cooling the trail and making me shiver.
He paused to ask, “Is this okay?”
“You’re so fucking sweet.” I snickered. “You didn’t ask if it was okay when you stuck your fingers inside me last night.”
Red bloomed on his cheeks. “Yeah, that’s not usually my M.O., but Sas was in charge.”
His lips found mine again, and I wrapped my hands around his broad shoulders, reaching for the back of his T-shirt. I pulled it up until I could get my hands under the cotton, and once I felt the warmth and ridges of his muscular back, I dragged my fingernails down the skin.
Graff arched up and groaned, then kissed me harder, his tongue driving into my mouth. I could picture his cock doing the same, and I shifted to attempt to give him access.
He pulled my hands away and broke the kiss.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“We’re heading to Las Vegas today,” he said.
I laid back on the bed. “Don’t remind me.” Papà was the last person in the world I wanted to deal with right now.
He laughed. “I thought you would be excited.”
“Lies.”
“I see.” He laughed again, and it was so musical. “But if I keep tangling my tongue with yours, we’ll never leave.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Hope crept in my voice that I could tempt him back to bed. To me.
His throat bobbed. “You need to take a shower and get ready.”
“And what will you be doing?” I asked.
“I need a shower too.” But he didn’t remove his weight from on top of me.
I quirked a brow. “You could join me.”
It would be ridiculous to try to have sex in that closet of a shower. Too tight. But I wanted him with me, now, and all the time. And I wanted to feel just him this morning.
Graff shook his head. “You will still be Sas’s wife in a few days.”
Confusion overtook me, and I said, “Again, that didn’t stop you last night.”
“And I’ll probably have you again. If you’ll have me, Adelina.”
“I will,” I said, cutting him off. “I want you now, Graff.”
He flopped off me and onto his back, and I followed. Straddling him, I tried again to remove his shirt and get a glimpse of all the ink that decorated his bronzed skin.
“I should ask the Veep.”
“Nonsense. He gave you access to me once, and he’s not stealing that from me now.”
Graff looked up at me and tucked my hair behind one ear. “Are you certain?”
I bit the inside of my lip and nodded. “Last night was about Sas and me. I knew from the moment I rode off with him that it wouldn’t be anything gentle or beautiful. And if I didn’t want that, I would’ve called Rafe over to stop him.”
Graff started to move.
But I held him in place. “You’ve shared women before, true?”
“Yeah, but?—”
I placed two fingers across his lips. “But nothing. This morning, it’s just you and me here, and I want this.”
After searching my face for a solid minute, he slipped out of his shirt.
“Jeans too,” I coaxed.
When we were both entirely naked, I spent long minutes letting my fingers roam over his ink. A pattern started to emerge from the varied designs.
At his ear, four tiny birds.
The sleeve on his right arm had the four elements interlocking in a vibrant watercolor piece.
A four-leaf clover over his heart.
And so, so many more.
“What’s with the number four?” I asked, letting my hand linger in the valley between his pecs and abs where there was an intricately designed numeral four.
“It means family.” The words sounded strangled.
I couldn’t understand what was behind the strained words and started to ask.
But then Graff grabbed my face, threading his fingers into my hair, and pulled me to him. My lips met his for another languorous kiss.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” he said between kisses. “We need to make this quick, and I’m really, really not good at quick.”
When his cock was free, he lifted me up and positioned me, so the crown of his thick shaft lined up with my hole. “I’m thicker than Sas. Are you ready?”
Biting my lower lip, I nodded as Graff pressed the head inside.
I braced my hands on his chest. “Holy shit. You weren’t kidding.”
“Look at me,” he ordered.
I wanted to watch him entering me, stretching my pussy to accommodate him, but I couldn’t resist looking into his gray eyes.
“Your body will adjust. Just match my breathing.” He inhaled.
I took a shaky inhale too and then he exhaled. I mirrored that as well. On the next breath, he pressed in another inch.
A whimper escaped.
It wasn’t only his size, but the way I’d been used last night. Still, he was thick. I flashed back to the feel of him in my hand and my fingers failing to reach around his girth.
“You’re fucking huge,” I complained.
He smiled and gave me a cocky “Thanks.”
And just like that, I swear the weapon he was wielding got even thicker.
“More?” he asked, and I loved how considerate he was being.
“Just”—I panted—“do it.”
He searched my eyes until he seemed to find what he was looking for, then grabbed my hips and slammed me down as he thrust upward.
I cried out in pain and pleasure, then stopped breathing entirely.
“Don’t hold your breath, Adelina,” Graff gritted out.
“Okay. Okay.” I took a long, deep breath.
The pressure started to ease, so I repeated my breathing. And pretty soon, my body adjusted to his size. He stared up at me with a muscle ticking in his jaw as though he were holding himself back. His hands rested on my thighs, all but the fingers dug into my skin.
Resting, but not really.
I pried them up and drew one of his hands to my breast and the other to my lips, sucking his thumb into my mouth.
Even as he rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, Graff growled, and the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back with his cock driving into my needy cunt.
“You’re so tight,” he said, leaving his thumb between my teeth.
I wanted to show him what I could do with my tongue too—not that I ever had. But he showed me how to give him a hand job last night. Perhaps he’d teach me to do the same with my mouth.
Our pace quickened. And sped some more until our sweaty bodies were slapping against one another. Then, our movements went erratic as I started to climb toward that sensation I’d found last night. The one unlike any self-inflicted orgasms. The high that only being filled completely by a man’s thick fingers or cock could give me.
“Graff,” I breathed.
“Go ahead, bella,” he replied—bella, beautiful. He wasn’t Italian, but he knew how to hit me in just the right spots—physically and mentally.
I came on a scream, my body locking up, melting, and then withering beneath him. My head kicked back in ecstasy as something about this release also squeezed me square in the chest.
After three more thrusts into my spasming pussy, Graff pulled out and gave his cock a few quick jerks until his cum was shooting all over my belly and chest in thick ropes.
His roar with the release was amazing. Powerful. Lionlike. And one day soon, I wanted him to do that inside me.
Graff fell forward, sandwiching his cum between us and pressing me down into the bed. I relished his weight on top of me and stroked his back in long, gentle touches while our breathing returned to a slower pace. It was beautiful and artistic, this coupling with Graff.
Last night had been rough and demanding and all about my future husband, but this experience belonged to my artist and me alone.
And damn, was I addicted.
When he caught his breath, he lifted up, planting his elbows at either of my sides and peered down at me. “Okay. Shower. And we have to get you on birth control, pronto.”
Showered, fully clothed, and full of food, I went looking for Graff. Or Rafe. Or even Sas. Just the thought of my future husband and Graff left me drenched.
I didn’t want to be a walking slut for my fiancé, though. It was power that I wasn’t willing to give him, but I had handed myself over to him last night. And the mere thought of another round made me rub my thighs together for just a little relief.
Before I knew it, I was standing in the doorway to the great room, overlooking the table where I had been tied up last night.
Sas wasn’t there.
Instead, the president of the club had his arms around his woman, cradling her growing pregnant belly. Wilde leaned against the table, Bou with her head in her hands. Heat flushed my cheeks at the power in their connection.
That was love in its purest form, as though that much adoration created an energy that radiated from the couple at the epicenter.
I bit down on my tongue before I said that table was where I got royally fucked last night. Something told me that I wasn’t the only one who had used that table for more than just business or dinner. Although, dinner had been an on-the-go event around here as far as I could tell.
Wilde kissed Bou on the cheek. “Keep our son safe.”
“We’ll be fine,” replied Bou.
I backed up a step as Wilde said, “I mean it, Angel.”
“You can count on me, Prez,” said Angel.
I hadn’t even noticed him in the corner.
Angel pushed away from the wall. “We’ll be back in the Ridge later today. You gotta focus on Vegas.” His eyes, under his scarred brow and white streak, found me as I was backing out.
Then all the eyes turned on me, and I cringed. I didn’t know the Prez that well, only that he made the deal with my father that sealed my fate. So I didn’t like Wilde much for that sin alone.
“I was just, um, looking for...” I trailed off, glancing across the common room to where I knew Sas’s room was. “I’ll, um, leave you all to...” Whatever the fuck I stumbled into.
Someone whistled before I could move, and bikers flooded into the common room, saddlebags packed and cuts on. They even wore similar jeans and boots. I was nearly blinded by their drab fashion. Towering over them all, Sas came strutting out of the back hallway like he owned the place.
He shouldered a backpack, and I slipped through the MC bikers to get to him. As soon as he saw me, he rocked back on his heels, his jaw locked. He barely looked at me as he stepped past, but I followed him. The guys moved out of Sas’s way, and I was small and quick and basically surfed his wake toward the front door.
“You’re not even going to speak to me?” I asked.
“I think you speak enough for the both of us,” said Sas, stepping outside.
The LA sun beat down on me as soon as I emerged from the warehouse confines, and I tried not to flinch. “That’s never stopped you before.”
He snorted but said nothing.
Why wasn’t he fighting back with me today? Was it because he got what he wanted? Same with Graff. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if he would throw me aside like my ass of a future husband. But I couldn’t let that distract me and faced Sas again, like he would slip away if I didn’t keep an eye on him.
He attached his saddle bags to his motorcycle. “Go back inside.”
“I’m going to Las Vegas with you,” I said.
“Why would you do that?”
“You kinda need me there for—you know—the fucking wedding.”
He looked up at the clear blue sky. “Oh, yeah. That. Well find someone else to let you be their bitch today. I’m flying solo.”
“Why don’t you want me on your bike?”
“I’ve been very obvious about that, princess.”
God, I was starting to hate him calling me that, while loving it too. Perhaps I needed medical help. I frowned. “You wanted me last night.”
“I wanted your pussy, and you handed it over to me like a good little slut,” said Sas without looking at me.
“Then why give me to Graff?”
“Because I’m a nice guy.”
I scoffed.
Sas narrowed his eyes on me. “You don’t think so? I let you come. Multiple times.”
I started laughing, but I wasn’t giggling now. Last night’s ecstasy started to slip back into my fore vision, but I blinked it away. I was dealing with the same old ass named Sas.
“Ass,” I snipped at him.
“Oh...” he lifted his chin. “You think so? If I was really the ass you think I am, you would’ve been left tied up on the table with no one to free you. A veritable buffet for the prospects.”
Bastards would never change, I guessed.
Without another word, Sas swung his leg over his bike. The other bikers were getting on too, including the Prez, Graff, and Rafe.
I tried to meet Graff’s gaze, but Rafe was laughing with him. Neither of them looked at me. What the hell? Graff and Sas had taken what they wanted, and now, I was going to be left behind. Discarded like their used condom.
Taking a fistful of Sas’s T-shirt, I threw myself on the back of his bike, holding onto him before he could kick me off. Instead, he started up his bike without a word, and I tightened my grip as a rumble rippled through his chest.
Fucker was laughing at me.
“Ass!” I screamed, trying to get my voice to carry over the revving engines, but the attempt was fruitless.
Soon, Sas kicked away from the clubhouse, Wilde leading the pack as we rode out. I glanced back, realizing I hadn’t packed a thing. Then I supposed it didn’t matter, because I was going home.
Somehow, I was one of them. Included, though not welcomed. But of course, I had to be. I was Sas’s future wife. I was the Mafia princess to the Don’s den where they were headed.
I was a snitch. A spy. And that might kill me, even though I hadn’t told Papà anything about the operations here. Not much, anyway.
If my betrayal against my fiancé and his club didn’t land me dead, Sas’s cock surely would when he decided to use it on me again. And he would. I planned to make damn sure of it.