Devoted to Him

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Devoted to Him Page 13

by Sofia Tate


  Her voice spurs me on, her rapturous appeals not to stop, telling me how good my mouth feels on her cunt. Her body begins to shudder from the orgasm overtaking her. I hold her legs in place as they shake and spasm with aftershocks.

  I rise from my feast and slip off the bed, standing at the edge. Without warning her, I pull Allegra’s feet to me, listening to her gasp in surprise. I place her ankles on my shoulders, arranging her perfectly as I sink my cock into her, wet and ready for me. She inhales deeply from the sensation, my shaft swelling from the mere sound of it.

  I start thrusting inside her, holding her steady with my hands gripping her legs. I grunt with each rough drive into her, her pussy tight on my cock like a steel vise.

  “Let me hear you, baby,” I command her.

  Her deep moans make me piston her faster. “Do you like that? Do you like it raw and hard?”

  “Oh God, yes, Davison…”

  “Do you want me to go faster?”

  “Fuck yes! Please!” she begs.

  With those three words, I fuck her harder, the bed shaking violently from my continuous thrusts.

  We’re both so close. My eyes are shut in anticipation. I cannot wait to hear her cry my name in ecstasy.

  “Now, Allegra,” I order her, my voice rough and demanding.

  She screams, shattering me as I hear her yell my name in worship. My cock still inside her, her cunt milks it until my orgasm follows hers, my legs trembling and my breath panting for fresh oxygen.

  When I glance down at her, I watch as her chest rises and falls, then she crooks her finger at me, inviting me to come to her.

  I collapse down next to her, both of us on our backs, our bodies mirroring each other in panting breaths. I lay my hand on hers, to maintain the connection of what we just did to each other, for each other. She grips it instantly.

  She turns on her side to face me. “I’m sorry,” she says to me as her breathing slowly returns to normal.

  I roll over to look into her softened eyes. “Whatever for, baby?”

  “For not understanding. I know you can’t tell me what’s going on, as much as I wish you would. You probably have a good reason to keep it from me.”

  “You’re right. I do.”

  “But I also know that I need to trust you.”

  I stroke her cheek with the pads of my fingers. “You can trust me. You know that. What caused this sudden realization?”

  “Let’s just say a very wise man reminded me of some things and gave me a wake-up call.”

  “Your father?”

  She smiles. “Yup.”

  “A wise man indeed,” I reply, grinning back at her. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

  She leans in and kisses me softly on the lips. “I accept that. I still wish you could tell me why I need protection.”

  “So do I, my love. So do I,” I answer, returning her kiss.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Davison

  The next morning, I’m in the kitchen prepping my coffee while Allegra is getting dressed. My cell rings from the counter. Ashton’s name appears on the caller ID.

  “Ashton, what’s wrong? Did you get any more phone calls?” I ask worriedly when I pick up.

  “No,” she replies calmly. “My father finally told me everything. I can’t believe he did this. And then he got your father involved…” She sighs. “I just wanted to check in with you. Anything new on your end?”

  I decide not to tell her about Dominic since that involves my company, not her.

  “Nothing to report. My father’s being a stubborn ass. I told him he has to turn himself in to the Feds, but he refuses. This is such a clusterfuck.”

  “I know. I’ll do the best I can with my father as well.”

  “All right, Ashton. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do. Thank you, Davison.”

  I hang up and tuck my phone into my suit trousers. I exhale, falling back against the cold metal of my fridge.

  “Davison?”

  I turn to her, her purse hanging from her shoulder, ready to leave. Her eyes are fixed on me with concern.

  “Is everything okay?” she whispers.

  I step toward her and take her in my arms. I caress her jaw with my right hand as we’re wrapped in each other.

  “Yes, baby. Everything is fine. Are we good?” I ask her nervously.

  A slight smile takes over her face. “Yes, Harvard, we’re good. It’s not that I don’t trust you, because you know I do.”

  “I know, but it’s good to hear that now and again.”

  She strokes the back of my neck. “I just don’t want you to get hurt by whatever it is that’s going on with you.”

  I wish I could tell her it’s not me that I’m frightened for, but her.

  “I’ll be fine, I promise,” I reassure her.

  She nods. “Okay, I’d better go. I’ve got the dinner shift tonight.”

  “I’ll see you after,” I remind her.

  She leans in to kiss me good-bye, a long, wet kiss that threatens to take us over with its heat, but she pulls back before our desire for each other escalates because we both know we have busy days ahead of us—she has her shift, and I have to get to the office and figure out what to do about my father.

  “I love you, baby,” I whisper, leaning my forehead on hers.

  “I love you too. And I used the last of your half-and-half with my coffee, so you need to get some more,” she informs me.

  “Yes, dear,” I reply, sounding like the devoted boyfriend I am.

  She smiles back at me. “See you later,” she says to me before pressing the elevator button, and disappearing behind the metal doors.

  I head back into the kitchen and start to put our breakfast dishes in the dishwasher when I hear the elevator open again.

  I hustle back into the foyer, excited to see her again, ready to scoop her up into my arms. “Back for round two, Venus?”

  But instead of Allegra, my mother is standing in front of the elevator, shaking her head. “I’m not even going to ask what any of that means.”

  I wince in pain when she says that.

  Crap.

  “Oh…Mom…hi…it’s just that Allegra…” I stammer like a teenage boy busted by his mother for jerking off in his room, despite the fact that I’m a grown man.

  She waves her hand at me dismissively. “Don’t bother, darling. I ran into Allegra downstairs.” She steps up to me to give me a hug and kiss on the cheek.

  Her appearance has me unsettled to say the least. “What’s going on?”

  “Let’s sit down,” she says to me in a calm voice.

  I follow her into my living room. She sits down on my couch, and I join her, taking in her appearance. She’s dressed in a black cashmere sweater set with white linen pants and black open-toed sandals, her elegant wardrobe contrasting against the rest of her when I notice her hands fidgeting and she’s crossing her legs over and over.

  I clamp my hands over hers to keep them still. “Mom, what’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

  After a pause, she shifts her head to look directly at me. “I want you to tell me what’s going on with your father.”

  Shit.

  “What do you mean?” I ask cautiously to assess what she knows.

  “Davison, my darling son, pardon my French, but don’t bullshit me. I know something is wrong because Ames overheard you and your father arguing.”

  My mother may be a lady of genteel society, but when Mona Cabot Berkeley uses an expletive, she’s not fucking around.

  I’m stunned. “I can’t believe Ames, being that indiscreet.”

  “He likes me better than your father,” she states as if it were a fact that I should already be aware of for some reason. “Now tell me everything.”

  I inhale deeply and nod my head. “Okay.”

  And then I tell her the whole sordid story—Ashton’s father involving my father in his scheme, their Chicago partners having ties to the Mob, bi
lking the pensioners. All of it.

  When I finish, my mother’s hands clench into fists. She shoots up from the sofa and starts pacing the floor. “I can’t believe him!” she shouts. “How disgusting! How could he do that to those poor people! What a bastard!”

  Suddenly, she stops moving to look over at me. The fire of anger that was blazing from them a second ago is now extinguished, and I only see one thing in them—fear.

  “What are we going to do, Davison?”

  My heart breaks for my mother, this woman who has been nothing but a model of civility and kindness in my life, as opposed to my father, a man whose prime motivations in life are greed and power.

  I jump to my feet to comfort her. “I’m taking care of it,” I tell her soothingly. “I told Dad that if he wasn’t going to the Feds to confess, I would do it instead. You didn’t know any of this was going on, so you’re not to blame in any way. And don’t worry, because I’ll take care of you no matter what happens. I swear it.”

  She grabs me in a tight embrace. “I know you will, because you’re a good son. You’re the one thing I’ve done right in my life.”

  When I pull back, I see her eyes moistened and on the verge of tears. I grab a tissue from the box on the coffee table, handing it to her. “Please don’t cry, Mom. Everything will be all right.”

  She wipes her eyes daintily so as not to ruin her makeup. “Thank you, darling. I think I’ll go home. It’s such a lovely day outside. Maybe I’ll pick a few roses from the garden, do some flower arranging. That’ll calm me down.”

  I smile at her. “Sounds like a good idea.”

  She steps over to retrieve her purse from the couch and takes my hand as she walks to the elevator. Before she leaves, she pecks me on the cheek and gives me one final hug.

  “Just promise me you’ll keep me informed and keep yourself safe.”

  I grip her shoulders firmly. “I promise.”

  She blows me a kiss from the elevator as the doors close on her. I start to walk toward the bedroom when I remember what Allegra told me. I pull on a pair of shoes, grabbing my wallet, keys, and phone to head down to the market around the corner.

  I steer around the building into the narrow alley when a rough male voice stops me. “Allegra looked so cute in those shorts this morning. And she looked hot at Le Bistro. Wish I could get a piece of that.”

  I freeze in place. It’s the bastard who approached Allegra at work. When I finally do turn around, I come face to face with a guy in a suit who looks like a normal guy, save for the menacing look in his blue eyes, his lips firmly pursed together. My blood starts to run cold as my heart starts pounding so hard that I can feel my pulse beating in the arteries against my neck.

  I grab him by the throat, using my hold on him to hurl him into the wall of my apartment building. My hand is still wrapped around him, now with my other hand pressing his shoulder into the concrete.

  “You fucking asshole! If you so much—”

  “I would remove my hands if I were you, Mr. Berkeley.”

  He flips open his suit jacket to reveal a holster with a handgun strapped inside it.

  I quickly release him, watching him straighten his jacket and wiping off his shoulder as if my touch had tainted the fabric. “Your father’s partners in Chicago have no scruples in removing any impediment to getting what they want, or doing what they need to send him a warning to comply with their wishes.”

  I’m paralyzed, watching this asshole’s mouth move, desperate to pummel him to the ground, but with him armed, I can’t take that chance.

  He smiles at me like a madman. “Have a nice day,” he rasps to me.

  I pivot slightly to see him walk away and turn the corner.

  I rip my phone from the pocket of my sweats and scroll furiously for a number. “Charles!”

  “I’m in front. Ready when you are, sir.”

  “It’s not that. I’ll cab it to work today. I need you to do something much more important.”

  * * *

  Allegra

  It’s moments like these when I’m grateful for my love of opera. A day later, I’m practicing with Luciana at Davison’s apartment, which manages to keep my mind off Davison and that phone call he got from Ashton. I heard him say her name at the end, and I was ready to go ballistic, demanding to know why he was talking to her. But I calmed down, reminding myself that I had to trust him. I couldn’t let the call distract me. With the district tryouts approaching soon for the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions, I need to be ready.

  Once Lucy and I finish, we head over to Tribeca for lunch at a diner on Greenwich Street that Davison and I like to go to on the weekends. And for once, I’m happy to hear about someone else’s problems with their love life rather than complaining about my own.

  “I don’t get it, Alli,” Lucy laments over her tuna melt. “Tomas has been so moody lately. Whenever I press him about it, he either gets all sullen or rages at me like a lion with a damn thorn in its paw.”

  “Do you have any guesses about what it might be?”

  “Well, he’s not cheating, that’s for damn sure, because he knows I wouldn’t cry about it. Instead, I’d remove his entire package with a fucking blowtorch.”

  I try to suppress my laughter at her blunt comment, knowing she’s not joking around. She really would do that. “I agree with you there. He worships the ground you walk on.”

  “And believe me, it would be a shame to do that, because the man is a beast in bed. He does this thing—”

  I drop the fork I’m holding to eat my chicken Caesar salad and hold up my hand to her. “It’s okay. I believe you. Sounds like the denial thing is going around because Davison is keeping something from me as well, but I won’t press him about it. Not anymore, anyway. I trust him.”

  She takes a sip of her Diet Coke. “Don’t they get that we’re only trying to help? That we nag them because we love them?”

  “‘Love’? Are you there already?” I ask her, my eyebrows raised.

  A huge grin of a besotted woman overtakes Lucy’s face. “Yeah. Ever since the night of the benefit at Davison’s parents’ house. He was so sweet with me that night, and when he saved the day taking that video of Davison going apeshit on that skank Ashton, he became my hero.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “I know. It’s a fucking miracle,” she laughs. “And that sexy accent doesn’t hurt either. I lose it when we’re in bed and he says—”

  “Got it,” I reply with a mouthful of salad.

  “Ugh. Really, Alli? Did you not learn the last time you did that in front of me? You know what I’m going to say.”

  I roll my eyes. “Manners.”

  * * *

  I decide to kill some time after lunch at Barnes and Noble on the next block before I head home. As I’m reading a magazine in the store’s café, a male voice says, “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” When I look up, Matteo is smiling and standing in front of me.

  I smile back in surprise. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

  He sits down across from me. “I’ve got a job interview with a graphic designer at her loft a few blocks from here. Hopefully, she’ll like me enough to make me her assistant.”

  “I’m sure she will,” I reassure him.

  “What brings you here?” he asks.

  I take a sip of my latte. “Davison’s apartment is nearby. I was there this morning, then had lunch with a friend.”

  He nods his head. “So, how are things going with him?” I can tell he’s nervous asking me that question.

  “We’re good. Things have been weird with him and it drove me crazy for a while, but I realize I just have to trust him.”

  His head falls as he finds something fascinating in his coffee.

  “What is it, Matteo?”

  “As much as it kills me to say it, I could tell how much he loves you when I met him in Italy. He had no qualms marking his territory when it came to you.”r />
  I grit my teeth, being referred to as “territory.” “Davison can be intense sometimes.”

  He sighs. “Look, it’s a guy thing. He’s your boyfriend and you love him, and I respect that. But just know that I’ll always be here for you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  He glances at his watch. “Crap. I’d better go. I’m glad I ran into you.”

  “Me too. Good luck today. And take care.”

  He stands up and steps to me, leaning over to peck me on the cheek. “See ya,” he says, walking away with his coffee.

  I take a deep breath and finish my latte. When I stand up to throw the cup into the garbage, a flash of a man with white hair under a black cap catches my eye. He has his back to me as he’s standing in the history section, but I know who it is without having to see him from the front. He turns slightly and looks over in my direction, and just as quickly twists back around.

  What the hell?

  With my purse slung over my shoulder, I march over to him, my curiosity increasing with each step.

  “You can turn around, Charles. I saw you.”

  I can hear him exhale deeply before he spins around to face me, his pale face red with embarrassment. “Hello, Miss Orsini.”

  “What’s going on, Charles? I’m assuming you’re not here by accident.”

  He shuts his eyes before answering me. “That would be correct, ma’am.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  This time, he looks me straight in the eye. “Because Mr. Berkeley told me to watch over you.”

  I clench my teeth. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, and that’s the truth.”

  “That, I believe all too well.”

  Now that I know she is most likely involved in all this somehow, my patience with Davison is wearing thin, close to dissipating altogether. I rush out of the store, not even needing to look back to know that Charles is behind me, matching me step for step.

  Once I get outside, I snatch my cell from my purse. He picks up on the first ring.

 

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