by Eva Ashwood
Sometimes love wasn’t soft.
Sometimes it was hard, almost brutal.
But my body recognized and responded to this kind of love as surely as it did sweet kisses and light caresses. In fact, I craved this kind of contact.
Every time Misael bottomed out inside me, so deep it almost hurt, his pelvis slammed against my clit, making sparks shoot through me. One of his hands held my thigh in a bruising grip, keeping me right where he wanted me, while the other looped around my back, supporting me as he drove into me again and again.
“I love you, Coralee. I fuckin’ need you.” His words were broken and choppy, harsh and breathless. “Come for me. Come all over me.”
As if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he plunged inside me one last time, grinding his hips against mine in a rough circle as he let out a choked grunt. His cock pulsed as he flooded me with his cum, and I did just what he’d asked.
I came all over him.
My whole body shuddered, my core clenching as a gush of my own wetness flooded from the place where his cock impaled me. I buried my face in his neck, sobbing out my release as it poured through me like fire. It was too much, a pleasure so overwhelming it threatened to steal my senses. I bit down hard on his warm skin, closing my eyes and losing myself entirely in the feeling of Misael.
We were connected so deeply I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. I was wrapped around him, and he was wrapped around me, our souls knitting together so tightly that I thought it would kill me to tear us apart.
The tension finally drained from my body as the orgasm released me from its high, but I kept my hold on Misael. My arms were wrapped around him, my teeth still clamped around his skin as I breathed hot and wet against his neck. But I couldn’t bear to let even that connection go.
Finally, when my heartbeat began to slow, I lifted my head from the crook of his neck, peering down at my handiwork. The impression of two rows of teeth were clearly visible, with a growing hickey blossoming in between them. Instead of any sort of embarrassment, fierce pride and possessiveness surged through me, and I dropped my head again to lap at his skin, licking my bite mark like a cat.
Misael chuckled, his hands gliding over my thighs and ass. “Did you mark me, Princess?”
“No,” I said, unable to hide the smile in my voice as I licked him again.
He laughed. “You’re a shit liar, you know that?”
Lifting one of his hands from my ass, he gripped my hair and pulled my head up so he could meet my eyes. The pleased arousal sparking in his deep brown irises made me clench around him again.
“It’s okay. I like knowin’ I’ll be walkin’ around tomorrow with your mark on me. I hope the whole damn world sees it. Let ’em know I belong to you.”
“I belong to you too, Misael,” I murmured, pulling against his grip on my hair to kiss him again. “Marked or not. I’m yours.”
I could feel his smile against my lips, both sinful and sweet.
“I know.”
Fifteen
I could’ve stayed in the bathroom with Misael until well after the dinner party was over, but that was probably a bad idea for several reasons. Everyone had seen how upset Misael was when he’d bolted from the table, so I was sure no one expected us back all that soon. But if we took too long, someone would eventually come looking for us—and Nathaniel still intimidated me enough that I had no desire to get caught having sex in his bathroom.
We held each other and kissed for a few more minutes, indulging in the softer side of love alongside the harder one. Then Misael reluctantly pulled out of me.
He cleaned me up, his touch careful and gentle, before helping me down from the sink counter. We got dressed slowly, eye-fucking each other the whole time. Even though we’d only gotten partially undressed to start with, Misael looked sexy as hell with his shirt off, his pants slung low on his hips, and his cock jutting out, bobbing slightly with every movement. I almost gave in to the impulse I’d had earlier and dropped to my knees in front of him. He’d barely softened at all, and I was sure I could coax another orgasm out of him easily.
But I worried more about him getting in trouble with Nathaniel than me, so I resisted the urge. We needed to get back to the dinner.
I did step forward to kiss him once before we left the bathroom though, pressing my palms against his chest and feeling the steady rhythm of his heart inside.
“I love you,” I whispered. I wanted to say it a hundred times over, to imprint it on his soul.
“Love you more,” he murmured against my lips.
I grinned. There was no way that could be true, but I liked the way the words sounded as they came out of his mouth, so I decided not to argue that point with him.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I pulled back.
We’d gotten so lost in each other that we hadn’t finished our conversation about his father—Claudio. About what all of this meant for Misael, and about how he was taking it.
“I will be.”
He gave me a lopsided smile, taking my hand as he reached for the door. I could tell he meant it, but I could also see the confusion and pain in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it behind his usual cheer.
I squeezed his hand.
He would be okay. I’d make sure of it.
When we arrived back in the dining room, the conversation lulled as everyone looked up at us. Misael flushed slightly, avoiding Claudio’s gaze as he walked me to my spot at the table and pulled my chair out for me. I couldn’t help letting my own gaze flick toward the man across from us, and I caught him watching Misael with an expression of regret mingled with hope, and something like approval.
Well, if he was proud of who his son had turned out to be, he should be. I wasn’t sure I was willing to forgive him for the circumstances Misael had had to overcome to turn into the wonderful person he was today though. What might his life have been like if he hadn’t been parentless since the age of six?
There was a little voice in my head that said if Misael’s upbringing had been different, if he hadn’t been put into the foster system when he was young, he never would’ve met the other Lost Boys. He never would’ve met me.
I couldn’t bear to think about that, and I didn’t know quite how to make peace with the fact that if his father hadn’t abandoned his mother, all of our lives would be unrecognizable right now.
Maybe wishing for the past to be different was always a bad idea. In the aftermath of Dad’s arrest, I had prayed more times than I could count for it all to be a dream. I’d wished I would wake up back in my old bed and realize none of it had been real.
But if I’d gotten my wish, I would’ve missed out on the best thing that’d ever happened to me.
Misael settled back into his seat, and the rest of dinner passed without incident. Claudio didn’t bring up the subject again, and by the end of the meal, he put down his empty glass of scotch and turned to face Nathaniel.
“I understand what an honor it is to be approached by you. And I understand the benefits a partnership has. But I’m not unaware that you’d benefit plenty from any alliance between us too. My organization is young. My men are dedicated and loyal. And we’re growing. Month by month, year by year, we’ll keep growing.” He smiled lightly. “I’m sure you’ve thought of that.”
Nathaniel nodded, keeping his expression impassive. “I have.”
“There are a few guys on my team who think I’m foolish to even consider this,” Claudio acknowledged, grimacing slightly. “But I am considering it. I’ll have my answer for you soon.”
“Good.”
Nathaniel didn’t pressure Claudio for a more detailed answer, and it occurred to me that the Lost Boys’ boss really did want this alliance to happen. So much so that he wasn’t willing to risk pushing too hard or forcing Claudio’s hand. Luke Carmine must be a bigger threat than I’d realized if Nathaniel was so interested in teaming up against him.
Claudio turned to Misael, addressing him directly for the first
time since we’d arrived back at the table.
“You know where to find me. Please come visit sometime. I’ll answer any questions you like.”
His words were a little stiff, and I got the feeling there was so much more he wanted to say. Things he would’ve said, if not for the fact that this entire thing had become way more public than he probably wanted. If he’d had any other choice about where to approach Misael, he probably would’ve taken it.
Misael didn’t answer, just dipped his head once, acknowledging he’d heard the man.
Now that I knew Claudio was his father, I could see the resemblance between them. It must’ve been what’d tipped Claudio off. They both had fine, angular features, defined jaw lines, and full lips. They both moved with the same sort of easy grace, and even their smiles were similar.
Wrenching my attention away from the man who had declared himself to be Misael’s father, I stood along with everyone else, finding myself immediately surrounded by my boys.
“Come for a drink in my study,” Nathaniel told Claudio, jerking his chin toward a door on the far side of the room. Then his gaze shifted to the Lost Boys, landing on Misael last. “You’re dismissed for the night. Thank you all.”
There was no anger in his tone, and I got the feeling his dismissal of them was more to give Misael a way out than because he was displeased with how the evening had gone.
He and Claudio disappeared into the study, and Josephine led us all to the door. She surprised me again my hugging Misael, and I realized that whether any of us acknowledged it or not, the boys had sort of become her surrogate sons. And me her surrogate daughter.
I didn’t mind it though, and even though Misael stiffened awkwardly in her hug before gingerly patting her back, I was grateful for her gesture of support. Just like she had done with me upstairs, she was making sure he knew he wasn’t alone.
Someone had left my school clothes folded neatly on a chest in the entryway, and as Josephine picked them up and handed them to me, she said, “Keep the dress. It’s yours.”
Shit. I’d been hoping she would forget that plan. Not that I didn’t like the dress—I loved it more than any other dress I’d ever worn—but I felt bad taking it from her. But I didn’t reject her generosity, thanking her as she bustled us toward the door.
It was cold outside, and as soon as we got in the car, Bishop turned the heat up on high then wrapped his hand around mine, warming me with his touch. As he cranked the wheel one-handed and pulled out onto the street, Kace gave a low grunt in the back seat.
“That was some fuckin’ night.”
“You okay?” Bish asked, glancing into the rearview mirror to catch Misael’s gaze.
“Yeah,” Misael said, giving the same half-true response he’d given me. Then he shook his head. “I can’t believe he fuckin’ left her.”
“But he did it because he loved her.” Bishop’s voice was low, and I could hear how much he wanted to fix this for Misael. It made my heart ache sweetly. “That’s not nothin’.”
“Yeah.” Misael lapsed into a thoughtful silence, then he asked, “Should I go visit him?”
“Like he asked?” Bishop shrugged. “Why not? At the very least, you can get answers. Fill in all the missing details. Find out more about your mom. Then if you decide you want to hate the fucker, you can do it without havin’ to wonder. You’ll know the whole story.”
I saw Misael nod through the reflection in the side-view mirror. “True. Besides, I bet Nathaniel will want me to go. He’s still tryin’ to secure this whole partnership between them. If I can help him with that, I should.”
I bristled inwardly, not liking the idea that Nathaniel would try to leverage one of his people’s personal life into a bargaining chip. But then again, he hadn’t specifically told Misael to do that. The dark-haired boy was just assuming that’s what he would want.
Bishop brought me back to Highland Park so I could get my car, and I practically crawled into the back seat as I kissed Kace and Misael goodbye. I licked Misael’s hickey once more for good measure, drawing out the first full smile I had seen on his face all evening. Then I leaned over the center console and kissed Bishop.
“You’re good for us, Coralee,” he whispered, catching my wrist before I could pull back. His voice was so low I knew it was meant only for me. “We need you.”
My stomach gave a strange sort of flip-flop at his words. I loved hearing him say that, although it scared me a little.
I was still promised to someone else. My life was still bound up in the demands of my father.
But that didn’t make Bishop’s words any less true.
They needed me.
And I needed them.
They watched me get into my car and followed me partway back to my house like a secret service detail before finally splitting off and heading back to the other side of the city.
When I pulled into the large garage at my parents’ house, it was nearly ten o’clock, later than I had planned on staying out. Prom committee meetings didn’t usually last seven hours, and I hoped like hell my dad would buy some other excuse for my prolonged absence.
I scooted the seat back and awkwardly changed back into my school clothes, then stashed the dress I’d gotten from Josephine in the trunk. I’d come back for it later.
The entryway was dimly lit when I stepped inside the house, and I tried to ignore the heavy drumming of my heart as I crept through the mansion. I made sure to avoid Dad’s office, skirting around it just in case he was up late working.
I padded quietly up the stairs, but when I reached the top, I almost missed the last step.
My father stood at the end of the hallway, where it veered off toward the east wing where he and Mom slept. I almost hadn’t noticed him because he was standing still and quiet several yards away, but now I couldn’t drag my gaze from his.
Fuck.
Fear rattled through me. I expected him to come barreling toward me, to grab my arm and berate me like he had at the restaurant.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t move or speak.
I stood frozen for three long heartbeats, trying to read his expression in the dim light. Then I turned away and hurried to my room before he could stop me.
Dammit. He knows.
So why hadn’t he done anything?
Sixteen
The next few weeks were… surreal.
My father knew about the Lost Boys. He’d seen evidence of their existence on the security feed from the pool house, and I was certain he knew they were the ones I snuck off to meet with every time I said I was staying late at school for a prom committee meeting or going out with friends.
But he never said anything.
He didn’t ground me again.
He completely ignored it, as if everything was perfectly fine.
The plans for my wedding to Barrett progressed, and my father seemed determined to make it happen. He had made sure the guest list would be packed with important figures in his social circle, people he wanted to impress or intimidate. So maybe he had decided that as long as the marriage went through, he didn’t give a fuck how many boys I had on the side. That was essentially what Barrett had said when he’d told me he had no plans to stop fucking other women after we were married.
But that wouldn’t work for me. I didn’t want the Lost Boys, the boys I loved, to be on the side of anything. Not to mention the fact that they were all dominating and fiercely possessive. They shared me with each other because they loved and trusted each other, but there was no way in hell they would share me with another man—even if I had wanted that, which I most certainly didn’t.
The wedding wouldn’t happen.
I had become fixated on that single thought, repeating it over and over to myself as a way of getting through each day.
There was no way I could go through with it, but that still didn’t solve the problem of how to get out of it without risking the boys. My father was stubborn and demanding, and my past several inter
actions with him had shown me that the harder I fought against him, the more his grip tightened.
So I needed to find a way to negotiate my way out of this. To make him think it was his idea, that there was benefit to him in calling off the wedding between me and Barrett.
I thought about trying to track down Muse again to see if there was any damaging information on the King family I could get my hands on. After spending several months in prison, I didn’t think my dad would like the idea of attaching himself to a family that was likely to topple.
And I kept pulling out the sheets of paper I had printed in Dad’s office and staring at them, wondering how I could use them. Would he respond to blackmail? Would he let me out of this if I threatened to expose him?
I wasn’t sure what I had was enough to fully implicate him though. And if it wasn’t, all it would do was alert him to what I knew and unleash his fury at me.
So, I waited.
And worried.
School days were a blur of sullen faces and glares. No one openly taunted me anymore, but I had been written off entirely by most of the student population. If I still cared about playing their fucking games and trying to climb the social ladder, maybe becoming an outcast would’ve hurt. But I wanted no part of that bullshit anymore.
The one bright spot was the fact that, without my dad breathing down my neck, I was able to sneak away to visit the Lost Boys sometimes. I wanted to spend every second with them, but I didn’t want to push my unusually good luck, so I only ventured to their neighborhood a couple times a week.
Misael had decided to take his father up on his offer, and the rest of us went with him the first time he went back to the club to see Claudio. I stuck close by Misael’s side, joining the other two boys in glaring down Claudio as if daring him to fucking mess with us—to even think about hurting his son.
But the man with the friendly eyes and the tattoos seemed earnest enough. More and more, I believed that he’d had no knowledge of Misael’s existence, and I could see a heaviness in his expression when he spoke about it that made me think it was something he would never make peace with. Something he would never stop blaming himself for.