A wall that I built between us. To keep myself safe from him.
A wall I no longer want.
One that I don’t have the courage to break down.
I can’t sleep. I wait for the sound of his steady, even breathing.
It doesn’t come.
I feel him shift, flipping over in the bed. Feel his arm reach over the pillows. It finds my back.
The tips of his fingers lightly stroke over my t-shirt from the base of my neck to my waist. It makes tingles dance down my spine. He does it again and my entire body relaxes. My eyes close. A little moan of delight leaves my lips. In this moment, I would give anything in the world for this touch to never end.
He begins again, at the base of my neck, slowly traveling down. He stops at my waist. His fingers gather the material of my tee. He gently tugs it. Pulling it up, just a few inches. Exposing a stretch of skin on my lower back.
His fingertips stroke back and forth over the horizon of my waist. Chill bumps raise on my flesh. My nipples tightening beneath my shirt. I shift my leg, parting my thighs.
His hands going up, up, up beneath my shirt. The bed moves. There’s no longer a pillow between us. I hear it hit the floor and a little smile comes to my face. Another pillow gone and he’s inching over to me. I can feel the heat from his skin as it comes closer.
By my legs, the third king-sized pillow is removed.
The wall is gone.
Now his hard chest is pressed against my back. His belly hot against my skin. His muscled thighs are spooned around me. Cocooning my bottom. His arm wraps around my waist, slipping beneath my shirt. The soft hairs on his arm tickle my skin. He pulls me into him, hard, holding me tightly. There is no space between us.
His face buries into my hair. His breath soft against the back of my neck. He inhales deeply. Kisses the sensitive skin on the nape of my neck.
Whispers, “Goodnight, princess.”
The heat from his body spreads into mine. My eyes close.
But I’ll never be able to sleep.
Then I feel the hardening of his cock in the crack of my ass.
And I know that no one is going to sleep.
He’s sucking on my neck. That sweet spot right before my shoulder that drives me wild. I moan, arching my back against his hard chest. My toes are curling. My nipples tightening. His hand wraps around my side, finding and fondling my heavy breasts. His kiss moves up higher and as his lips flick at my earlobe, he’s pinching my pebbled nipple. I gasp as his hand slides lower, down my trembling belly.
Slips beneath the loose fabric of my PJs.
Between my thighs.
“Baby girl’s so wet from that spanking, isn’t she?”
“I can’t help it,” I breathe. He finds my clit, pressing on my engorged bud. I cry out.
“I know. You love to be put over my knee. Don’t you.”
“Yes.”
“To be spanked until you’re my good girl?”
“Yes.”
His finger dips beneath my clit, entering me and collecting my juices. He pumps his finger and all I can think is where’s his cock? I want him in me. Now. But he teases me. Pressing his finger in and I’m moaning as the pressure builds. He slides out and he’s back to my clit. He’s sucking, biting, caressing my neck as he massages my pulsing bud. My muscles tense and just as I’m about to experience the pleasure of release, he stops.
My eyes snap open. I look over my shoulder at him in protest. He presses me down onto the mattress, flat on my back.
His mouth is on mine. The way he kisses—I can’t imagine the devil being better with his tongue. I’m hot and sweaty as blood rushes to every place in my body. His kisses travel downward. He stops at my clavicle and he’s tugging on the hem of my shirt. I rise up and lift my arms as he slides the fabric from my body.
My bare breasts swell beneath his gaze, my nipples further peaking. He leans down, sucking, biting, teasing them as he fondles my breasts. My hands run through his hair as he plays. He lays me back down. Now his kisses slowly move down my belly.
He kisses my pussy over my shorts.
My eyes close and I try to block out the nerves that fill me. He slides my shorts over my hips. Down my legs, over my feet. Tosses them to the floor. He grabs my hips and I laugh as he tugs me to the edge of the bed. My legs spread as he kneels on the floor before me. His hands cup my ass, his fingertips dig into my flesh.
Then he disappears. Burying himself between my legs.
I cry out as his hot, wet mouth meets my aching pussy. His tongue darts in and out of me. Then finds my clit. Licking it hard. Over and over. My hands bury in his hair. Scrape at his neck. A warm flushed feeling covers my skin. My back arches and I cry out as the pressure builds between my legs. My breath comes in pants and just when I think I can’t take anymore, two fingers are inside me, pumping. I scream his name, my neck straining as my head flings backwards. Muscles tense, I hover in a place between torment and ecstasy until that sweet release finally arrives. I come in a burst of light and sweat and tears. A hard shudder racking through my body. My eyes open. My body collapses against the bed. I lay limp. Void of words. A soft satiated tingle dancing over my flushed skin.
His face appears before me. Handsome features, hair tousled. Devilish look in his dark eyes. His gaze searches my face. Then his soft voice asks a question I’m not expecting.
“Are you okay, princess?”
My breath slows, my heart beats hard in my chest. I lean up, brushing back his mussed hair. Give him a smile and a nod. His brow knits and I feel the head of his cock pressing against my slick entrance, wet from his mouth, my climax.
My hands go to his shoulders, my eyes never leaving his as he enters me.
I’m more than okay. I’m elated.
He gives a soft sigh, his face void of its normally tense look. His eyes close and a look of deep contentment washes over his face. Making him beautiful. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. My fingertips trace the smooth, rounded muscles of his shoulders, taut from bearing his weight. He further buries himself within me, but it’s a gentle thrust, nothing like when we had sex on the couch.
His mouth is hot on my neck. Kissing me. His breath tickles my ear as he whispers my name. “Tess. My sweet, sweet Tess.”
I close my eyes and my head lolls to the side. His hips roll in a smooth wave as he enters me again. My pelvis lifts to move against his. We move as one. Our skin dampening from our exertion. Our breath growing faster, together.
This isn’t sex.
It’s not fucking.
This is making love.
Tears smart at the backs of my eyes. My breath comes in short, hard gasps. He’s moving harder, faster within me, that familiar tension building back up as the walls of my pussy tighten around his cock. He murmurs my name again and the sound makes tingles dance down my spine. I cling to him, pull him closer, bury my damp cheeks in the crook of his neck.
We move together. Constricting around one another. Gaining momentum. He calls my name with an urgency. The spring within me tightens to a breaking point and I come in a beautiful explosion of heat and light and passion. I feel his cock release within me, his hot seed bursting forth and saturating between my legs.
He collapses against me. Kissing me. Whispering, “Tess. My. Sweet. Tess.”
I bite my lip. Holding back the words that I fear I might accidentally allow to leave my mouth. The secret buried in my heart.
Altering my world as I know it.
* * *
Rockland
Forgive me, brother. For I know not what I do.
I’ve slept with Tess.
Again.
And I’ve never felt so content.
How did I let this happen?
It’s simple, really. My erection was pressed into the crack of her ass. The one I’d just spanked. Pulled down those cute pajama pants—the ones that didn’t fit her when I first got here—and exposed her creamy skin.
No panties, just like
I taught her.
After that, there was no stopping.
I knew she wanted me. Earlier, I sensed her in that doorway, watching.
I know how I make her feel.
Safe.
And nothing turns on Tess more than knowing a man is in charge. A man who will keep her safe. She’s always had that in her life.
But I bring something new to the table. Fulfilling a deeper craving she’s harbored. One I recognized the moment I met her. One that she thought she’s kept hidden. But now she knows, I recognize it in her.
She wants a man who’ll make her feel safe from herself. Who’ll let her be her softer self. Her younger self. A man who knows how strong and tough she is. And makes her leave those things at the door.
I am that man.
I give her boundaries. Keep her temper cooled. Make her eat, make her want to care for herself. When she starts to spin out of control I bring her all the way back.
I settle her soul.
And what she does to mine—what she’s always done to mine. She completes me.
I only feel whole when I’m in her presence.
What we’ve just done... that wasn’t fucking.
That was making love. And making love is dangerous.
Because, now, I can no longer ignore the fact that I’m in love with her. Though I’d been doing a pretty lousy job of it in the first place.
Now, living with her, going about daily routines, cooking, talking, laughing, I find I feel complete even when I’m not with her. Because even when I’m alone, it’s as if she’s within me. I’ll be going about my day, remember something she’s said earlier. Her snarky wit making me laugh. Her brilliant mind challenging me to think deeper.
Or I’ll find her sweater in my truck. Bring it to my face and inhale deeply.
She smells of strawberries and cream, lavender, Tess. And I need to be reminded of it, now.
We lie in the bed together, quiet. Each lost in our own thoughts. Each floating on that gentle wave that only comes after a satisfying climax. I wrap my arm so tightly around her I fear I might bruise her ribcage. I pull her close to me. Inhale that heavenly scent. Kiss the back of her neck.
Her hand slips behind my head. She’s stroking my hair, sending the best kind of chills down my spine.
I hold her in my arms and for once, I’m not the first one to fall asleep.
I stroke the smooth skin of her arms. Twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. Feel the peaceful cadence of her breathing.
All the while, pretending.
Imagining she’s mine. Burying the knowledge that in a few weeks, months, I’ll be gone.
And she’ll be here.
Our two lives no longer intertwined. My bed void of her soft body.
My heart torn in two.
In the morning, I wake before her. Slip my arm from beneath her body—she’s slept through the night curled against my chest as she did that night we watched movies on her couch and drifted off to sleep. Dressing quickly so as not to disturb her, I go down to the kitchen to start the coffee.
I can still smell her on my skin.
I pour a cup to go and I head out the door. I need to clear my mind.
Reset my emotions.
Remember why it is I’ve come here, and what I need to do.
Work always puts things in perspective. What we do in the Brotherhood is high stakes. Your mind has to be all in or you’re dead.
And I thrive in those conditions.
I leave the house. Hop into Thunder. Roar the engine, bringing her to life, and head to work.
I make a mental checklist as I drive. I have a few favors to do for the family before I leave. They involve the gun, the knife, and the masking tape I have in the glovebox of my truck. I love my brothers, but there are a few weak links here in the Village. A few that prefer suits to black leather gloves. A handful who want to faint at the sight of blood.
She wonders why it is I never have a shirt on when she comes home. The simple answer is that they’re often stained. Red blotches of our enemies not easily removed. Best to destroy the evidence.
No matter. I’ve no issue completing the hard tasks. The messier ones. The ones that have weaker men losing their breakfast on the toes of their boots. I’m quick about it. No need to cause a scene as long as the end result comes. I’m not one for speeches or drawing out screams. I show up. Take care of the problem. Let the younger guys dispose of the evidence and go on with my day.
I’ve got a ten o’clock with a hacker in the Bronx who keeps trying to invade our system, find our accounts. From there I’ll head over to United Nations to deliver a generous donation (bribe) to keep our New York connection with the Parish strong and our air paths clear. No bloodshed with that one so I’ll probably grab a quick lunch.
Then the final task. The one with the knife. Ending the life of a man who has assaulted one of our women. That one I will enjoy.
Back to Bronson to report the deeds done and home by dinner.
Where I wonder if Tess and I will cross that line once more. Exploring one another’s bodies and tasting heaven. I push her beautiful body and husky voice from my mind—just the thought of the sound she makes when she climaxes is making me hard—and focus on the tasks at hand.
The day is longer than I thought. I complete my missions. Finish up, hit Barbells for a quick workout then shower and change clothes. Now I’m driving to Bronson’s. I park the truck and make my way up the stairs. The door opens before I even knock.
Bronson stands in the doorway, the lines on his face creased, his eyes dark. “Come in.”
I step inside and he shuts the door behind me. He says, “It’s just us, I’ve sent Paige to Mary’s. Have a seat.”
We sit down in his immaculate kitchen, each taking a black leather barstool. I have the sense he has something important to tell me. Something he thinks I may not like. I say, “Missions are complete.”
A bit of relief washes over his face as he thanks me. Then he says, “We’ve got to get you back to the Parish. Now.”
The words hit me like a punch in the gut. I’ve known they’d come but I thought I had more time. I say, “What’s going on? Surely if there was a problem, my people would have contacted me.”
He shakes his head. “It’s nothing like that. Good news, actually. We’ve gotten an opportunity to purchase an adjacent island. Another just like what we have—registered as uninhabited. Private airways, waterways, the whole bit. I want it for... storage.”
Storage. Our key word for hiding the mass of weapons we collect. “Say no more.”
“And I want you to oversee the purchase. But we have to move fast before any other buyers get word it’s up. I don’t want people poking around and I certainly don’t want any flashy billionaires, rock stars, or some other idiots who’ve just gotten a payday snooping around our island. This transaction is vital to the protection of the Parish.”
I nod my head. Ignore the tearing in my chest. “I understand.”
“How soon can you leave?” he asks, his dark brow knitted at me.
I shrug. Hide the emotion from my face. Carefully arrange my features, the limbs of my body into a stance of indifference. I ask, “How soon do you need me to?”
He gives me that look Bronson saves for when he wants something done immediately. He says, “Yesterday.”
I say, “I can be packed and on the jet in three hours.”
He gives me a long look. Twists the ring on his left hand. Clears his throat before speaking. “Do you think Tess is stable now? Will she be able to assimilate back into Village life without you here to care for her?”
A hard lump sticks in my throat and I fight to swallow it back. I tell him the truth. “She’ll be fine.”
His dark gaze searches my face. He gives a nod. “Good. Then it’s decided. Hit our vault. You’re going to need cash.”
“Yes, sir.” I rise from the table.
He stands. Places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Thanks, Rockland. I can alway
s count on you.”
“Yes. You can.”
His mind is already on the next fire he’s got to put out as he ushers me to the door, forgetting about this task that’s worried him for the past few hours. He knows I’ll get the job done.
I leave the truck. Bronson will have his driver come and park it back in storage after I board the jet.
I head in the direction of the lot to pick up the car I know she loves—the red Mercedes. I need the short walk to calm my head. Steady my nerves. Funny, the things I’ve done today, things that would normally rattle someone for the rest of their lives seem like child’s play compared to what I have to do next.
Leave her behind.
* * *
Tess
Rockland’s surprised me at work. He’s brought that sexy little red sports car and he’s taking me out for an early dinner. He slides in beside me and I enjoy the scent of the leather seats. He never drives these things for long and they always have that new car smell. We pull out of the Village gate and I ask, “Where are you taking me?”
There’s a heaviness hanging around his shoulders. He must have had a long day. When he speaks, it seems he’s making an effort to keep his tone light. “We are trying the diner again.”
“After last time? What if that waitress remembers us?”
“It was weeks ago. She’s had hundreds of customers since then.”
“I think we may have made an impression.”
He smirks at me. “Such as? You think she got some idea I was taking you home to punish your naughty bottom and get you back into line?”
I mumble under my breath, “Something like that.”
His tone is soft. Almost apologetically, he says, “You can order the salad this time.”
“Good. At the rate you’re feeding me, my clothes are all going to be too small, soon.”
“You’re perfect at any size.”
I blush. Remember the way his face looked the night before. Taking my breath away. I joke, “What about as big as a house?”
He says, “I’d still think you were beautiful. You’ll always be beautiful in my eyes.”
“Thank you,” I manage to murmur. A soft glow comes over me.
“But I’d still make you run for cardiovascular health.” He gives me that crooked smile and squeezes my knee, leaving his hand there.
Rockland: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Page 11