Chapter 30 #2
He drives in hard, grinding and fucking, and I let myself go.
I lose myself in the pleasure of him filling me and using my body.
This is what I need, the way he fucks me, the way he thrusts into me, the needy moans he makes, the groans that escape his lips, like I’m too much for him to handle.
The way I make him feel good only drives me wild.
His thumb presses deeper. His thrusts get more insistent. “Look at you, little slut, taking me in your ass, in your pussy, god damnit baby, I’m going to fucking come. I need you to break for me first, please, baby, now I’m the one begging.”
“Oh my god I love that,” I gasp, looking over my shoulder, my hands pressed against the rough stone. “Beg, Gabe.”
“Baby please, come for me. Come before I fill you to the fucking brim. I need it baby, please.”
Damn it, this gorgeous man, big and beautiful and strong, pleading with me pulls all my triggers.
I come like I’m going to fall apart and he slips his thumb in further, fills me with his cock like he can’t help himself, and I feel his warmth spill out around his shaft as he finishes inside.
I whimper, bucking, losing control and falling over, until he turns me around again and slaps his body to mine, kissing me hungrily.
I’m dazed. His cum drips down my thigh. I wipe it up and put it in my mouth, tasting it. “Not bad.”
“Fuck. You’re too much.” His forehead presses to mine. “Where’d you come from?”
“Nowhere, that’s the best part.” I kiss him, and revel in the fact that he’s tasting himself on my tongue. Not that he minds one bit.
We dress at our leisure, lazy in the afternoon sun.
I find that I don’t care if anyone saw or heard what we did.
How could it matter? So what if I want to fuck my gloriously handsome husband?
I feel like it would be a stupid waste not to constantly crave the feeling of his cock spreading me to pieces.
I end up lying in the grass, head in his lap, journal propped on my chest. He strokes my hair as I read him entries, going slow, struggling over the Russian translations in places.
He laughs at my father’s aggression, his ugly, naked ruthlessness, and for once I feel like some of the edges of my past get sanded down.
“Now I understand you a little bit better, princess,” he says, bending down to kiss me. “With a father like that—“
“What was your family like?”
His mouth pulls into a thoughtful line. “My father thought he was royalty. We were an old-time crime family with a long and storied pedigree, except you can only live on a name for so many years before it starts to catch you. Truth is, we were falling apart.”
“I’m sorry, that sounds like it was hard.”
“For my father, definitely. He remembered the old days. But for me and my siblings? That was all we ever knew. That big, ancient house, crumbling because my parents couldn’t afford to keep it up, except for the rooms we showed the guests of course.
I loved it as a kid, all those nooks and crannies, it felt like we grew up in a ghost story. ”
“You don’t talk about your brother much.”
“Dominic’s a good man. He’s a couple years younger than me. He stayed behind to take care of the family.”
“And your sister married a Dragon.” I lick my thumb and flip a page, squinting as clouds uncover the sun. A name catches my attention, scrawled toward the middle of the page, and it makes me sit up.
“What’s wrong?”
I shush him with a hand and read, chewing my lower lip. My heart patters quickly in my chest as I work out the translation in my head. “It’s another entry about a criminal he knew.”
“Someone you recognize?”
“Better than that. It’s about Zohran.”
He cranes his neck to see the page, but only exhales in defeat. “Damn Russian. Looks like fake words.”
“Listen to this. My dad says Zohran’s ruthless… difficult by temperament… one of the most aggressive and power hungry of the Dragons, and I guess that’s saying something… but this is interesting. He specifically says Zohran loves playing games. Mentions it twice actually.”
“Games? What’s he mean by that?”
“I think it’s like… mind games. Not chess or whatever, but like… manipulating people. Dad mentions how Zohran controls half his organization through blackmail.”
“Sounds familiar,” Gabe mutters, leaning back to study me.
“Dad seems to think Zohran’s obsessed with games though. There are rumors that the Greek’s got a really bad gambling problem, which I guess isn’t all that bad if you’re rich as sin and it doesn’t matter how much you spend.”
I read through the entry again, flipping through the pages to see if there’s anything else useful I can find, but nothing else pops out. Gabe watches me, clearly considering something. He leans in and kisses me, pulling me tight against him.
“What was that for?”
“I don’t need a reason to kiss you.”
“But you have one.”
His thumb brushes my lower lip. “I think… maybe we can work with this.”
“The games thing?”
“Everyone’s got a weakness. Your father seems to think it was serious enough to mention it a few times, and from what I knew of your old man, he wasn’t the type to make things up. Straightforward to a fault, that bastard.”
“How are we supposed to use this against him though?”
“I don’t know yet, but this is good. This is a starting place. All good plans need one little spark.”
“I guess meeting my mom was worthwhile after all.”
“Baby, getting closure was the point of seeing her… the journals are a bonus.”
“You know, for a ruthless gangster, you’re annoyingly insightful sometimes.”
“I’m a student of human nature.”
“Yeah? And what’s my nature telling you right now?”
He squints, holding up a finger as if trying to physically read me. “I believe… you’re thinking… you want to fuck me again.”
“Not even close.”
He pulls me against him and we tumble back into the tall grass, laughing, and I’m thinking, maybe he really can read my mind after all, but I won’t ever admit it.