by Bethany-Kris
Right.
“And if I do? Say yes, I mean.”
“Then you can learn what we both can do,” he replied, his tone husky.
Like last night.
That memory swept in again.
She was wet again.
“Say yes,” he urged.
How could she not?
Temptation had ruined the world before.
And she was only a woman.
Ginevra stood no chance.
Her hands shook against the table when he set her on it, yet her next word same out clear, and sure. There would be no mistake about what she wanted. “Yes.”
She was grateful for the sturdiness of the table—its thick, long curved legs and strong, shiny top more than capable of handling their roughness.
Alessio closed all the distance between them in an instant. His mouth collided down on hers as his hand at her thigh slid higher up the leg of her shorts. The way he kissed her matched the way his fingers explored her. Soft strokes at first, his lips drifting over hers damningly the same way his fingers drifted over her bare pussy. Tentative at first, seeking. All it took was her moan, and the widening of her thighs as her lips parted for his kiss to deepen, and she found a whole new heaven.
There was something wicked about the way Alessio kissed her as two of his fingers slid into her clenching sex. His tongue curled around hers as his fingers twisted into her G-spot. At her jaw, his hand still keeping her head in place, so he watched her while he came up higher, and his thumb slipped into her mouth as he pulled back.
He watched her like that, too.
Sucking on his digit.
Riding his fingers.
Jesus Christ.
She would come fast.
It didn’t matter he wasn’t kissing her now, either. He cocked his head to the side, a sexy smirk curving the edges of his lips as he pulled his thumb from her mouth with a pop, and his hand slid down to her throat. Those fingertips of his drummed against her racing pulse as he spoke. “Right there, huh? Your pussy is holding onto my fingers so tight, Ginny? Fuck, are you gonna rain on me, sweetheart? Soak me?”
“Oh, my God,” she breathed.
“Come, and give me some of you, yeah? Let me suck you off my fingers before I see my cock stretch you out, Ginevra.”
Yeah.
That did it.
She came hard, a broken cry escaping her, and a rush of wetness pooling between her legs which she might have been embarrassed about with someone else, but not with this man. Alessio’s gaze dropped between their bodies, and his grin deepened salaciously, pride coloring up the throaty noise he made as his fingers slipped out of her pussy.
He liked that.
“Fuck yeah, that’s what I wanted to see,” he murmured. “You try.”
His hand came up fast, and unquestioningly, she opened her mouth to take the single finger he offered for her. Her heady flavor coated her tongue as she sucked herself from his digit, surprised at the tart undertones of her arousal.
She still trembled from that orgasm when he pulled his hand away to clean his other finger, the one still wet with only her, too. God. Nothing looked better than him enjoying the flavor of her.
Those next few seconds came like a blur. He moved fast, tugging her shorts down her legs so fast it stung her skin, not that she cared. Her hands worked at his jeans while his slipped under the cropped tank she wore to cup her breasts. Her gasp filled the hallway when his fingertips tweaked her hard nipples.
“Still yes?” she heard him ask.
“Still yes.”
Undeniably yes.
Alessio’s hands disappeared from her shirt to speed up her attempt at shoving down his pants. Although, not before he grabbed a foil packet from his back pocket.
Oh.
And did she mention he went commando?
Because he did.
Yep.
Fuck.
Her fingers circled around his length, already so fucking hard and weighty in her palm. She stroked his length, letting her fingertips drift over the vein on the underside of his cock that pulsed from her touch.
“Easy,” he was quick to say when her grip tightened, “let me fill that pussy before you try to make me come, woman.”
Ginevra grinned.
She got his kiss again, after they rolled latex down his length, and he widened her thighs enough that her muscles ached deep. His lips found hers as he positioned the head of his cock at her slit. His tongue stroked hers when his hips flexed forward.
She was so wet.
So beyond ready.
And still the first thrust took her breath away. Her body tensed, the width of him stretching her open fast, and hard. She loved it, though.
So much.
Still, he didn’t stop kissing her, lips warring with hers as his tongue seemed intent to lick the fucking taste right off hers. His pace came swift, and deep. A brutal rhythm that held no reservations and didn’t hold back.
Not for a second.
His hands were on her body again.
Pinning her in place.
Tightening to take her air away.
One on her chest.
At her throat.
Ginevra whimpered, words becoming impossible. It surrounded her in him. His taste, his scent, and all of him inside and on her. It was overwhelming, and exactly what she needed.
“Let me have this pussy suck me dry, sweetheart,” he uttered against her cheek. “I want it, so you better give it to me, huh?”
Her desperate cry tangled with his thick groan.
That pace didn’t let up.
Ginevra’s peak climbed higher and faster than she expected it to. Still soaked between her thighs from that first orgasm, she fell over the cliff again. His blue eyes stayed locked on hers, and pleasure darkened Alessio’s stare as he watched her come from him fucking her that time.
His hands slid down to grip tight onto her thighs, his strokes coming shorter, but still as rough even as he fucked her through that orgasm. She couldn’t breathe, her vision tunneling from the intensity.
And then his head tipped down, his forehead resting against her chest as his thrusts came faster. Shaking, her peak waning but bliss racing through her bloodstream, as his fingers dug painfully into her thighs.
God, it felt good, though.
Still.
He had the best view like that, she realized. Looking down, watching himself fuck her. His next three thrusts came slower, but deeper than before, the final one making him still as her name tumbled from him with the rawest sound.
“Ginevra, fuck …”
He shook, too.
He lost his breath, too.
And she was still spinning high.
Ginevra wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed like that, tucked close, saying nothing, and letting it all sink in. A minute, or maybe two.
Hell, it might have been more.
She didn’t care to know.
A throat cleared further down the hall, and Ginevra’s eyes squeezed shut, knowing. Against her chest, Alessio let out a dusky laugh that still somehow sounded airless as his shoulders lifted with his breaths. She turned her head, unsurprised to find Corrado lingering at the end of the hall, half around corner, and half not. He didn’t directly look at them, but he didn’t keep his focus off them, either.
The ridge of his erection straining against his slacks was impossible to miss, never mind the way his tongue snaked out to wet his lips like he’d seen something he liked. She might have been embarrassed another time, but not then.
The doors were open here.
And she wanted to do this again.
All of it.
With both.
“Food is hot,” Corrado said, “whenever you would both like to join me.”
That said, Corrado turned, and left her view.
Ginevra made a sound under her breath. “What happens now? What do we do now?”
Alessio laughed again. “Nothing. Everything. Anything.”
>
Well, that told her all she needed to know, didn’t it?
Sex was sex to Alessio, and he rarely, if ever—because he couldn’t remember a time when it happened—felt awkward afterward. He understood why other people might feel that way, though. Which was why after he’d tucked himself away, and slid Ginevra’s cotton shorts back up her legs, he helped her down from the table in the hallway, and with a press of his palm against her lower back, directed her into the nearest bedroom.
Hers.
She twisted her fingers, fidgeting as he moved around the room to pull clean clothes from the dresser before setting them on the edge of her bed. Not that she had a lot of clothes—a few things, he supposed. Enough to get her by here as Corrado told him.
“You need more clothes,” Alessio muttered.
Ginevra let out a soft laugh. “And what would you know about that? You only wear black; everything looks the same.”
He tossed her a heated look over his shoulder, and he liked the way she stilled when his gaze landed on her. All over again, the taste of her seemed to flood his mouth, and every sweet sound that came out of her when she was being fucked filled his ears again.
Yeah.
Alessio was screwed.
“Really, I just always look the same?” he asked, arching a brow.
Ginevra grinned, some of her nervousness bleeding away. “You’re far too cocky for your own good.”
“But with reason.”
She didn’t deny it.
Alessio pulled a white, cotton thong from the top drawer in the dresser, and tossed it to the pile of clothes, too. Coming to stand in front of Ginevra, he found her nerves made an appearance again when she wouldn’t look up at him.
That was fine.
He could fix it.
Sliding his hands under her jaw, he tipped her head up, so she had to look at him. Those wide brown eyes of hers reflected everything she wasn’t saying, and he saw it as clear as day staring back at him.
“Hey,” he murmured.
Ginevra wet her lips. “Yeah?”
“Everything is fine.”
“I know that.”
“Nothing happens unless you want it to.”
She nodded. “I know that, too.”
He grinned. “That’s all that should matter, then. Everything else is details, and noise. Don’t overthink it. That’s my job.”
Her soft laughter had his semi-hard dick perking in his jeans again, making him all too aware that he still needed to go dispose of the condom, and clean himself up. Fuck. He’d much rather stay right here with her and handle whatever she needed.
Still, the bigger deal they made about this, the harder it might be for Ginevra to see this was all normal. Perhaps not for other people, but for them … it was fine.
“I just … what if I mess up?” she asked.
Alessio frowned. “How would you do that?”
“I’m not sure.” Her fingers tittered in the air when she waved her hands. “Maybe I give him more attention, or I sit beside one and not the other. Or—”
“Stop. That’s ridiculous.”
Ginevra blinked, hurt coloring up her expression. “It’s not ridiculous just because you already know how to handle something like this. I haven’t, Les.”
Okay.
“So, that’s the wrong word,” he said, dropping a kiss to her lips that lingered as he continued quieter, “these aren’t things that matter here, I swear. Corrado and I … we can handle each other, or get what we need. Whether that’s from each other, ourselves, or from you. This thing isn’t a tit for tat, sweetheart. We’re not keeping score.”
“So, I can just … keep doing what I’m doing.”
“If that’s what you want. The only things that change are the things you want to be different.”
“Okay.”
Alessio smiled and pressed another kiss to her grinning lips. “Get dressed—you need to eat, huh?”
“Yeah.”
It might not fix her nerves, but he hoped it helped a little. His fingers drifted over her cheek, tucking the wild strands of her dark brown hair behind her ears before he left her side, and headed out of the bedroom. She needed time by herself, he figured.
And he needed to get cleaned up.
After doing that in his own room, Alessio arrived back in the kitchen alone, although Corrado was already there, sitting at the large dining room table with the newspaper spread out in his hands. To his benefit, Corrado didn’t look at Alessio as he came to sit on the left side of the man and reached for the plate of pancakes in the table's middle.
That didn’t mean he stayed silent though.
“And?” Corrado asked, his voice a murmur, his gaze still taking in the paper.
“Give her a minute. Let her absorb it all.”
Corrado hummed his agreement, then turned to peer at Alessio as he smothered a pancake in maple syrup. The thing he loved the most about Canada, next to the fact it was Corrado’s birthplace, was that they didn’t do that fake syrup shit flavored like maple.
“And what about you? Are you good?”
Alessio arched a brow. “You’re right.”
“Oh? I usually am, but do tell. It’s not every day you say you’re right and not you’re not wrong. Because one is you outright admitting you were wrong, and the other is your way of trying to keep from showing your whole ass in a conversation.”
“Fuck off,” Alessio muttered, chuckling.
He peeked up from his plate, but Corrado hadn’t looked away from him. Their gazes met, and Alessio relaxed in a way he hadn’t before.
“Not a lie, though,” Corrado said, shrugging.
“Not a lie,” Alessio echoed. “And I meant … about her. You were right. She’s like art.”
Fucking her had been a privilege.
And not one he was sure he deserved.
Corrado made an appreciative noise under his breath, and his attention quickly went back to the paper. “I know, now so do you.”
Right.
He was a quarter of the way through his plate when Ginevra darkened the entryway of the kitchen. She hesitated only momentarily before joining the two at the table, taking a seat at Corrado’s right, across from Alessio.
Ginevra didn’t reach for the food.
Alessio continued eating, and Corrado didn’t turn his attention away from the paper in his hands. It was like any other morning, except it wasn’t.
He could feel the change, now.
It was palpable.
Corrado flipped the corner of the paper down and winked at Ginevra. “Eat, kitten. Food is better when it’s hot.”
“Oh, I like that better,” Alessio said more to himself than anyone else at the table. “Kitten—it’s appropriate.”
“Right? That’s what I thought.”
“Makes sense.”
Ginevra let out a breathy laugh. “You two are horrible.”
“But are we?” Alessio asked.
“We are a little,” Corrado said, and then to Ginevra, “Unless you want a plate made for you. All you have to do is ask.”
For anything, Alessio added silently.
He was sure they’d figure out a way to give it to her now.
Ginevra smiled. “I do like being spoiled.”
Corrado tossed his paper aside before Ginevra had even finished her sentence and was already getting up from the table to do her bidding. Alessio met her gaze across the way, and winked.
See?
Fine.
Everything would be fine.
“Cree,” Alessio greeted, standing from the couch and giving the other two a wave of his hand as he left them alone while he answered his phone. “What can I do for you?”
Alessio was on the other side of the large sitting room from Ginevra and Corrado when Cree finally responded. “You’re not picking up Dare’s calls.”
“I have nothing to say to him, he doesn’t need me for a current job, and I don’t like listening to him bitch at me because he’s in his
feelings.”
Behind him, Alessio heard Corrado clear his throat. Okay, so he hadn’t been quiet about saying what he had to say, even if he was twenty feet away. Not that anything he said was a goddamn lie, either.
“He doesn’t want to talk about the auctions, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Cree said.
“I have no doubt it’ll lead into that, and I made my decision. It was mine to make.”
“I agree, and so does he.”
Alessio stuffed a hand in his pocket, turning to watch Ginevra sitting in Corrado’s lap on the couch while the two of them battled one another on their war game. She whooped his ass all over the screen which amused Alessio to no fucking end. Even Corrado seemed to enjoy it, and usually, he was a sore loser.
He wanted to be back there.
Not here, doing this phone call.
“What do you want?” Alessio asked.
Better to get straight to the point.
“To make sure you are okay,” Cree said. “Because otherwise, you don’t fill us in.”
“Because I’m handling shit I need to handle. And since at least one of you are of the opinion you get a say on how I handle my personal business, I no longer want either of you in on it.”
Cree cleared his throat. “He didn’t want you to do the auctions. Dare, I mean. He wanted to let you do what you wanted. He’s only in his mood now about it because he believes you backing out had to do with—”
“Corrado,” Alessio interjected. “And he’s not wrong, but that doesn’t change it’s still my choice to make. I don’t want to do it, and regardless of what happens here, I still won’t be doing it.”
“Les—”
“The only reason Dare is in his feelings about Corrado and I is because you took the information I shared with you back to him.”
“I don’t hide things from him.”
“Oh, I get that,” Alessio said, “and I don’t blame you, but you also can’t fault me for keeping my private business private from here on out, yeah?”
“We worry.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Alessio.”
“Any news on that Albania hit yet?” Alessio asked.
Cree made a noise under his breath. “That’s what you want to ask me?”
“I’m not talking about anything else with you, or him. Not until you both learn that taking me in when I was ten doesn’t mean you’re owed everything I do now, Cree.”