Without saying a word, I reach for her, pulling her under the water with me. Her T-shirt instantly turns transparent, clinging to her skin. Her nipples peak against the thin fabric and my mouth waters. I need to touch her. Slake myself in her.
Now.
I squeeze one nipple with my thumb and forefinger and watch her mouth open on a pleasurable gasp. God she’s beautiful, and mine. I take her lips, wanting to sear myself into her conscious, as she is embedded in mine. I can’t lose her. For years I’d felt like there was something missing, and now that emptiness vanishes whenever I’m around her.
I love her…
“Everything’s fine.” The lie slips easily off my tongue. Everything is not fine, but I need to pretend, for both our sakes. I need to feel something other than guilt, shame, the relief… Anything other than the echo of Romero’s last breath.
I kiss her, feeling the prickle of the stitches on her lip, and the hatred for Romero doubles. He won’t be able to do that again to her. Not ever. No one will ever do that to her again.
I drop to my knees before her and push her gently against the bathroom wall.
“Lucien.” Her gasp of compliance stimulates me more. Her fingers spear through my hair, pain spears through my skull. I like the pain, I need it to feel alive.
She doesn’t attempt to push me away, instead, she curls her fingers tighter, holding me to her, guiding my mouth on her wet sex. She knows what I want. She knows what she wants. A satisfied smirk twists my lips and my mouth salivates.
I slide her panties off her legs, running my hands along her soft thighs, before lifting one of her legs and slipping it over my shoulder. I move forward and lick that sweet cunt. It glistens for me, tempts me with its prettiness and I eat her, the fire and madness within me blazing higher, wanting to make her come on my face, wanting to make her come harder than she has ever orgasmed before.
She undulates against my face, her body rocking into me, seeking, begging for more. I give her what she wants. I lick everylittle morsel of her cunt, suckling on her clit. I slip two fingers into her, she’s wet and needy, angling them to tease her where she longs most.
“Lucien. Oh yes. Lucien.”
I don’t stop. Her sweet, tangy cunt is a sweetness I can’t get enough of. I bite down and then suckle hard, feel the contractions against my fingers as her release teases us both. Her muscles grip me tight. Her thighs tremble around my neck. My name is a chant on her lips. She begs me not to stop. I have no intention to.
Every sound she makes drags me further away from the alley, from the gunshot, from the look in Romero’s eyes. Here there is only her. Her pleasure. Her trust. The way she gives herself to me without fear.
As the last of her orgasm subdues, I stand and turn her around, clasp her hips and angle her pert ass upward so I can fuck her from behind. I slip into her wet, ready cunt, watching as my cock goes in and out, stretching her sweet pussy. The sight pulls a groan from deep within my chest.
I clasp her shoulders and thrust, driving hard into her. She braces against the wall, moaning my name, head bowed, water streaming over both of us. My balls ache and tighten, the room spins with my need, with the temptation of release. My cock is like a rod, and I watch it stretch her sweet lips as she takes me fully.
“That’s it, darling, take me. All of me.” I breathe deep, wanting to prolong the sweet agony, but it’s no use. She makes me spiral out of control and there is no turning back now. “I’m going to come,” I growl, the fire, the ache that burns low in my gut a clear warning.
I reach around and roll my fingers against her clit, and just as her second orgasm catapults through her, I join her in that pleasure.
“Briar. Fuck yes, Briar.”
“You’re everything to me,” I rasp, thrusting hard, lost in the tight heat of her. I’m lost in the pleasure of us. In the way her body milks me. In the way she gives herself completely, not just here but in every aspect of our life, as short as that was right at this moment. But we have so many years ahead of us. So much to look forward to.
I feel my seed surge and spill inside her. I come, relishing every last tremor from us both. She slumps against the wall, our breathing ragged, chests heaving as the water beats down. I slide out, my cock still semi-hard, heavy with the urge to go again, simply to keep reality away.
I turn her around and clasp her at the nape of her neck, tilting her face up. “You’re mine.” Her eyes flare a little, but she nods in agreement.
“I think I’ve been yours from the moment I met you,” she whispers.
There is no fear in her gaze. It almost breaks me. When she learns the truth, I hope there is never any apprehension in her pretty face. I don’t want her to dread me, but her enemies should. Anyone who dares take revenge or seek to level the score, should they suspect that I had anything to do with Romero’s death. I won’t allow anything to threaten Briar, my family, or my business.
Tonight I crossed a line, one that I had promised myself I wouldn’t, but one I traversed because the woman in my arms deserves more. I love her, and I will not lose her, not to anyone.
If hell comes for me, it can have me. But it will never touch her.
TWENTY-FIVE
LUCIEN
It’sall over the news. That is all anybody is talking about. Matteo Romero’s murder and the suspects. There are many. The entire city is vibrating with speculation. Every news anchor looks like they have been waiting their whole career for a hit like this. Every headline flashes like a warning. I should feel relieved. And I do. But alongside the relief sits the heavy stone of reality. There is a lightness in my chest now that the threat to Briar is gone, but it comes with the weight of what I have done.
The last two days, Briar has remained home, preferring to work in the loft with Stacy instead of going into the office. She doesn’t wish to return until the stitches are removed and the last of the green bruises that remain, the reminder of Matteo, disappear from her skin.
