by Eva Ashwood
Ciro swallows as he absorbs my words. His fingertips change direction, retracing their path and traveling up my thigh again.
It’s just a light touch, barely even sexual at all, but it makes my pussy clench as sparks fly through my body.
He shifts his weight on the bed, turning to face me more fully, and this time, it’s his whole palm that glides over my body, mapping the contours of my hip and stomach. He keeps doing that, trailing his hand over my hips, my thighs, my ribs. He has to lean over to reach more of me from where he sits, and when he gets frustrated with that, he kneels on the bed beside me, both hands starting to touch me.
He slides them up my stomach, dragging my tank top up with them, and when he reaches the undersides of my breasts, my breath catches. My toes curl, and I work hard to keep my hips from shifting as molten need gathers inside me, making my clit throb.
More. Please, more. Take what you want, Ciro.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slides his hands up and under the bunched fabric of my tank top. His large palms glide over my breasts, and he makes a small noise in his throat when he feels how stiff and hard my nipples are. His thumbs explore them, circling and brushing over them, and the look in his eyes as he gazes down at my chest makes a strange surge of emotion fill me.
He looks fucking awed. Like he can’t believe I’m real.
I want to tell him that I am. That this is—this thing that sparks between us. But I don’t say anything, just watch him intently as he continues to explore me. He spends so long on my breasts that I think I’m close to coming just from his intense focus on my nipples. It’s getting harder and harder to control my breath, and every deep inhale I take shoves more of my breasts into his greedy palms.
Finally, he drags his hands out from beneath the fabric of my tank top. For a moment, he rests them on my ribcage, holding me as he stares down at me. Then something shifts in his expression, and he grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it up. I arch my back a little, trying to help him a bit without moving more than necessary, since I promised I wouldn’t. He gets the tank top over my head and leaves the fabric draped around my forearms as his gaze travels back down to my bare chest.
This time, the noise he makes is almost a groan, and I bite my lower lip.
Jesus, this is so much harder than I thought it would be.
It’s almost fucking impossible to stay still when he’s looking at me like that, staring at me like he wants to worship me and devour me all at once.
He touches my breasts again, seeming even more fascinated and turned on now that he can see what he’s doing. He rolls one nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger, and I clench my thighs as slick arousal seeps from my pussy.
All he’s done is look at me and play with my boobs, and I’m fucking dripping for him.
He’s hard as a rock for me too. I can see his cock straining against his pants as he drags his large hands down the curve of my waist. When he hits the waistband of my pants, he pauses again.
His gaze darts back up to mine, his brows pulling together. Not like he’s asking permission, exactly, but like he’s looking for something in my expression.
I stare at him, taking in every bit of his face in the dim light. There’s so much I want to say, but he’s been utterly quiet this whole time, and I feel like I should be too. If I speak, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up begging him to touch me, and that’s not how I want this to happen.
I want him to decide. Every step of the way.
So once again, I just wait, keeping my body as soft and relaxed as possible beneath his touch.
When he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my pants, I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, shifting my hips to let him pull them down my legs. He snags my panties too, and when cool air hits my heated pussy, I let out a low gasp.
His gaze shoots back up to mine, and I nod slightly, letting him know it’s okay. More than okay. It’s good.
Seeming satisfied that I’m all right, he turns his attention back to my pants, dragging them all the way off. He tosses them to the floor, seeming to forget about them entirely as he takes in the naked expanse of my body. He ended up kneeling between my legs as he pulled my sleep pants off, and I know he can see the arousal that glistens on my pussy lips. I can fucking feel it, so I don’t see how he could miss it.
His hands rest on my knees, which are lightly splayed open, his fingers digging into my skin just a little. He seems frozen in place, almost, his gaze riveted to that spot at the apex of my thighs.
I want… more.
His hands on my legs are driving me crazy, his touch a promise of everything else he could do if he’d just allow himself. I have to force myself not to hook my ankles behind his ass and pull him closer—but in the end, I don’t need to anyway.
With a jerk, he suddenly moves, both of his palms sliding up my thighs. Goose bumps spring up in the wake of his touch, and as his fingers drag over my hipbones, I sigh.
I think he’s going to explore this part of me just like he did my breasts, and I’m bracing myself to try to withstand the exquisite torture when he surprises me by shifting backward and dropping his head, pressing my legs wider apart with his broad shoulders.
Hot breath hits my pussy, and I whimper, my stomach muscles contracting as my inner walls tighten.
“You’re so…”
Ciro’s voice is a hoarse whisper, and he never finishes the sentence. I’m not sure if he can. But when he leans down a little more and drags his nose through my neatly trimmed curls, I don’t give a shit what he would’ve said.
I don’t need to hear it.
I can feel everything I need to know in the way a quiet groan of satisfaction vibrates against my skin.
The tip of his nose brushes my clit, and I gasp, gripping the headboard so hard it makes my fingers ache.
Please, Ciro. Please, please, fucking please.
He gives me what I need. But honestly, I don’t think it’s because of my desperate internal plea. I think it’s because he needs this as badly as I do.
With his hands resting on the dip of my waist, he drags his tongue through my folds. Again. And again. And again.
There’s nothing hurried in his movements, nothing rushed or desperate. He’s slow and steady and thorough. So fucking thorough that my head starts to spin from the pleasure of feeling his tongue on me. It feels like it’s everywhere at once, lapping at me like a cat bingeing on milk.
“So sweet.”
This time, he finds the word he’s looking for, and as if the words themselves are a reminder of how much he needs this, how much he’s been craving it, he attacks my pussy with even more hunger.
I don’t even think he’s trying to make me come right now. He’s just trying to devour me. To sate something inside of himself that demands more and more.
But it also doesn’t really matter what he’s trying to do. The sight of his head buried between my legs, the sound of the little grunts and growls he makes, and the feeling of his smooth tongue sliding over my clit is more than I can take.
I try to push it back, to stave off the orgasm for as long as I can. To lie still and keep letting him eat his fill of me.
But the more I try to fight it, the stronger it becomes, until my entire body feels like it’s buzzing with a glorious energy that starts in my core. When he nips lightly at my clit, teasing it with his lips and teeth, I detonate like a bomb.
My stomach clenches and releases rhythmically as my inner walls flutter, my back arching as I twist and writhe beneath him. I’ve lost track of my promise to stay still, but I keep my fucking death grip on the headboard even as the orgasm rocks through me.
It surges through me in wave after wave, and when I manage to pry my eyes open, I see Ciro surge to his knees, peeling open his fly and shoving his pants down around his hips. He fists his cock, which is thick and hard and angry-looking, stroking it in harsh movements as he stares down at me.
“Grace!”
My name tea
rs from his lips as cum pulses from his cock, spurting over my stomach and hips in thick ropes.
He keeps pumping himself until there’s nothing left, the last bit of cum dripping down over his hand. He’s breathing hard, his gray eyes dark and a little wild as he stares down at me.
For a second, our gazes lock. I couldn’t look away if I tried in this moment, and I hope he can feel everything I am right now.
Relief.
Satisfaction.
Hope.
He lets out a low noise, releasing his still stiff cock as his gaze moves down my body. His eyelids droop, and he reaches out to run his finger through the cum on my lower belly. He smears it over my skin, like he’s trying to embed it in my cells, trying to make sure the mark he left on me stays there forever.
Another low sound rumbles in his chest, and he coats his fingers in his cum before dragging them down to my swollen pussy. When he sinks two fingers inside of me, my mouth drops open and I clench hard around him. His thumb barely presses on my clit as he fucks me with his cum-slicked fingers, and another orgasm ripples through me.
It’s not as strong as my first one, but it feels deeper somehow. My inner walls tighten around him, and he drags his lower lip slowly between his teeth as he watches me tense and then relax.
I feel like I might melt into the mattress, I’m so sated and exhausted. But when Ciro withdraws his fingers from my pussy and brings them to my lips, my eyes fly wide open, and I slavishly lap up every last drop of his cum, swirling my tongue around his fingertips as my lips close around them.
His pupils dilate, making his eyes appear almost black in the dim light. When I release his fingers from my mouth, he drags the back of his knuckles down the curve of my cheek, looking down at me with something so much like love in his eyes that it makes my heart flutter.
Slowly, he leans over me, bracing one hand on the mattress as his other hand slides up my arm. With deliberate care, he unwraps my fingers from where they still grip the headboard, releasing me from my self-imposed stillness.
I can’t help it.
I can’t hold back.
Accepting his implicit permission to move, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him down toward me. He doesn’t resist, and when I lift my head off the pillow to press my lips to his, he kisses me back. Soft and warm and deep.
His body hovers over mine, his chest brushing against my breasts. I taste myself on his tongue, and I wonder if he tastes his essence on mine.
I fucking hope so.
We kiss for a long time, and even though I can feel Ciro get fully hard again, his cock pressing against my stomach, he doesn’t take it any further.
But when he finally breaks our kiss and settles onto the mattress beside me, he pulls me close against him, wrapping me in his embrace. I nestle closer to him, breathing in his scent and reveling in the feeling of his large body cradling mine.
Whether it’s sane or not, I’m not afraid of this man.
In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so safe.
10
Grace
I wake up slowly, emerging from the first good dream I’ve had in weeks.
As my head clears, I blink rapidly to clear the sleep from my eyes, lifting my head off the pillow. Relief surges through me like a wave when I realize I’m not alone. The bed is empty, but Ciro didn’t leave. He’s on the other side of the room, sleeping in one of the oversized chairs that sits against the wall.
He may have slept separate from me, but he stayed. And that’s enough for me—for now, at least. He didn’t sneak away as if we did something wrong, as if he failed somehow, and to me, that’s more progress than anything that happened between us last night.
My face heats as memories pour through my mind. But it’s not embarrassment that makes me flush.
A smile teases at my mouth, happiness spreading through my entire body as I silently slip out from beneath the covers. A chill rushes over my skin without the warmth of the bed, and the floor is cool against my bare feet. I make my way over to the other side of the room where Ciro sits, moving carefully. I don’t want to startle or disturb him, but I need to be with him.
I need to prove to myself that last night was real.
He looks different when he sleeps. In the early morning light, he looks softer. His dark hair falls over his forehead a little, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. His full lips are parted just slightly, and I have to fight down the temptation to kiss him awake.
Maybe someday. But not now.
Baby steps.
Contemplating the best way to wake him without startling him, I move to the window and pull open the curtains a little, letting the morning sunlight pour into the room. Standing at the window for a second, I let the heat warm my naked skin, glad of the privacy of the second floor.
Ciro doesn’t say anything, but I sense him stir behind me in his sleep, and I turn around slowly. Steely gray eyes flutter open, hazy and fogged with sleep, meeting my own. My heart thuds to life inside my chest at the small smile he gives me.
Because that smile is Ciro, and only Ciro.
Soft and boyish.
Fucking perfect.
His gaze roams my body as I walk back to where he sits, his gray eyes darkening to charcoal as he admires my entirely naked form. He’s seen me naked before, of course, but this feels different somehow. It’s the first time he’s seen me like this—on display just for him, and not in the dark for once.
He doesn’t resist as I crawl onto his lap, straddling him.
In fact, his hands reach out without hesitation to grasp my waist, pulling me closer as I settle into place. I push my hair over my shoulder, leaning my upper body against his as I drop my head and kiss him deeply. His cock hardens between us as his hands slip down my waist and grasp my bare ass, squeezing and groping.
When our kiss finally breaks, I draw back a little, catching my breath. I don’t say anything and he doesn’t say anything, but I don’t think either of us could look away from the other if we tried. I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but I can’t stop thinking about him. About what’s happened between us.
“I’m going to go shower,” I murmur, breaking the silence. There’s a suggestion in my voice, but I don’t ask him for anything. I don’t demand.
As I slide off his lap, his hands linger on my skin until the last moment, maintaining contact until I’m out of reach.
I make my way into the adjoining bathroom, leaving the door open and turning on the shower. It rushes to life, and I don’t have to wait long to see if Ciro got my hint. As I pull open the glass door and step under the spray, Ciro appears in the bathroom doorway. He lingers there, hesitating, his gaze fixed on me.
I pretend not to notice. I let him work through his own thoughts as I soap up my body, scrubbing a lot less hard than I did last night.
It’s okay. There will always be other times, I tell myself when I think he’s left the bathroom.
But to my surprise, the shower door slides open a second later. A broad smile crosses my face as his hands grip my hips, pulling me against his naked skin. His hard cock presses into my lower back as he leans down and kisses my neck and shoulders.
I turn around in his embrace, heat flooding my pussy as he brushes up against me, wrapping his arms around my body. His mouth finds mine, water droplets mingling with our kiss.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he murmurs, and I smile against his lips.
He’s right.
Despite everything, it is a good fucking morning.
“I still don’t like it.”
Hale’s voice is tight, his jaw clenched so hard I’m surprised he can get the words out. But when he catches my gaze across the kitchen island where we’ve all gathered for breakfast and coffee, I realize that all the arguments I’ve been preparing since last night won’t be necessary.
Lucas and Zaid were right. He’s changed his mind.
“But,” Hale continues, grimacing a little even as he says the word,
“I can see that we don’t have much of a choice. If we refuse her, she’ll only redouble her efforts to tear you away from us, to hurt you or fucking kill you. And you’ll never get the answers you need.”
Gratitude wells up inside me. I know this isn’t fucking easy for him. The thought of any of these men getting hurt or killed because of me makes me want to curl up in agony, and I know they feel the same way about me. But we can’t let our need to protect each other keep us from facing threats head on—not unless we want to spend the rest of our lives running scared.
Hiding.
So I swallow away my fear, because this is what I asked for. And even though I was lying when I said my mother doesn’t scare me, it’s what I need.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I wish this hadn’t happened. I wish none of it had happened, that my mother hadn’t targeted you all and me. But I’m glad we’re all together on this. That you’re standing with me.”
Hale steps around the kitchen island, looping one arm around my waist and pulling me against his body. His dark brows draw together a little as he looks down at me. “Always, Grace. That’s not even a question.”
Conviction rings in his voice, and I know he means it. I’m sure there will still be plenty of times where we disagree about how we should stand together, but the question of whether we’re a team, of whether we look out for each other? That question has been answered a thousand-fold over the past few weeks.
“Thank you.”
I repeat the words because all of the other things I want to say feel far too weighty right now. Too big to just blurt them out over breakfast.
Hale holds my gaze for another moment, and my heart does a little flip inside my chest as I wonder if he’s reading the words I didn’t speak in my expression anyway. If he knows exactly what I’m feeling right now.
Whether he knows or not, his kiss is gentle and possessive as he leans down to press his lips to mine. Keeping his arm around me, he glances up at the other men.
“I’ve called in the rest of my father’s captains and a few other people. We’ll meet with them at the club shortly to catch them up on what’s going on. I don’t see any point in keeping everyone in the dark anymore, now that Camilla knows we uncovered Leland’s betrayal. Even if any of my father’s old captains are working for her, she already knows that we know. There’s no point in the subterfuge.”