Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
That man thrilled me, but that side of him was a harsh reminder of what he’d done to Renzo and what he would do to Luca.
So I pushed his slacks down and freed his hard dick, wrapping my fingers around the velvety skin. He truly was beautiful, even here.
Leaning forward, I dragged my tongue over the drop of pre-cum, lapping at him like he was the best thing I’d ever tasted. Gio groaned, muscles rolling and shifting. He tasted like power and lust and the heady thrill of holding a man like him in my thrall. Growing braver, I took him into my mouth until I gagged and he groaned.
“Fuck, piccola.”
My pussy clenched at the sound of him coming undone, and I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t want him to fuck me.
I worked over him a few more times before he fisted my hair, thrusting into me with jilted movements. And I wanted it, for him to become wild and uninhibited, to be so lost in me that all he could think about was my touch, my mouth. That all he wanted was to come down my throat.
I submitted to his whims, became his sacrificial lamb. And as he buried himself deep, as he came and I gagged, I’d never wanted to lay upon an altar and bleed so much.
I swallowed everything he gave me, and when he pulled free from my mouth, he looked at me in a way no one else ever had. With awe and lust and respect, maybe even love.
Ragged breaths filled the room as he dragged his thumb over the corner of my mouth, swiping a warm drop of his come over my bottom lip, then my top.
He pulled me to my feet, his gaze dropping to my come smeared lips. “I will marry you, piccola, and I promise, I will have you in every way.” He stepped back, and I took a gulp of clean air, untainted by his intoxicating scent.
“If Luca agrees...”
A twisted smile pulled at his lips as he leisurely re-fastened his pants. “You and I will be wed as soon as possible. Then I will broach your brother.”
I felt the color drain from my face. “What?”
He smirked. “Problem?”
“But if he doesn’t agree—” I’d have given up any chance at freedom and still might lose my brother.
“Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.”
“If he does not agree, will you spare him?”
“That’s not up to me.” He shrugged as though my brother’s death were a casual thing. “You dangled a puppet mafia in front of Nero. I don’t know what he’ll do if he’s denied.” Nothing good. “If you’d spoken to me in private first…”
Fuck.
13
GIO
Tommy winced as Jackson helped him into the bed. He was still weak, and the doctors had wanted him to stay in the hospital longer, but I wouldn’t risk it. I need him home. Safe. Protected.
If Sergio could take out Patrick O’Hara, he could go for anyone—Jackson, Tommy, Emilia…
To make matters worse, the mob had stepped up their aggression since Paddy’s death. I was left choosing between abandoning our properties and holdings in Chicago—the bars, warehouses, and hotels that were all fronts for money laundering—or sending more men, which not only put me at risk of losing said men but leaving New York weak.
A logical voice said that I should just leave Chicago be, let the mob have it, bring our drugs in elsewhere, but surrender wasn’t in my DNA.
“Can you fuck off already?” Tommy snipped when Jackson tried to tuck him in.
The big guy laughed. “Seriously, how do you still look like such shit?”
“Show some respect for the ‘should be dead,’ asshole.”
“How do you feel?” I knew beneath the joking bravado, he was happy Tommy was home. I’d never seen my enforcer so rattled as he was that day in the hospital, covered in Tommy’s blood.
We were all assholes, but we were family, brothers in far more than blood. We were bonded in our damnation.
“I feel like I got shot three times and turned away at the pearly white gates. And even the devil didn’t want me. So here I am.”
“Fuck the devil.” Jackson grinned. “You need more meds?”
“I’ll always take more meds. Stupid morphine machine,” Tommy grumbled.
I lifted a brow. “Doc will be here any minute.” I might have checked him out of the hospital, but we had a doctor on the payroll. She got paid a pretty penny for what was usually the occasional gunshot or knife wound. She would be coming here twice a day to check on him until he was okay.
Jackson’s phone rang, and he pressed it to his ear. “Yeah?” His brows crumpled as he listened to the one-sided conversation. “Secure it. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up and dragged a hand down his face. “One of the Hudson warehouses was set on fire,” he said, taking a seat on the end of Tommy’s bed.