“Yeah, D,” he grunted, thrusting the dildo into me again. “Someday. But we need to work up to that, okay?”
“I’ll wait forever if I have to.”
Our conversation ended with us moaning each other’s names. I came first, shooting my cum all over his chest, getting some of it on myself. Bash wasn’t far behind me and added his cum to what was already on my stomach.
He collapsed on top of me, the dildo still in my ass, and our cum sticking to both of us. “Fuck, that was hot.”
I shoved my fingers through his hair and pushed it off his forehead. “This was the best present you’ve ever given me.”
A smile lit up his handsome face. “Yeah?”
I bobbed my head to confirm.
Bastian rolled off me and removed the dildo. His fingers grazed mine as we stared at the ceiling, trying to catch our breath. We sat silently for five minutes before we were ready to speak again.
“When the timing is right, we’ll come for our girl,” Bastian said, and it sounded like a promise. “We’re not letting Alex go.”
“No, we’re not. Luca will never treat her right. She belongs with us.”
CHAPTER 22
DAMIAN
As expected, Alex didn’t come to our estate to see us before we left for initiation. Luca looked bitter about it, but he said nothing. However, he didn’t need to. His eyes flicked toward Wellington Manor as we stood outside with our father.
Bash gritted his teeth, eyeing up Luca. He was still mad and had every right to be. Alex would have shown up if not for our brother’s attitude. Whatever he said to her last night set her over the edge.
I brushed my fingers against Bastian’s, and he glanced at me. We communicated with our eyes, using our unspoken bond. I was telling him it was okay to be sad. That I knew it fucking hurt. I knew pain better than anyone.
A black limousine parked in the circular driveway. Enzo got out and came around to open the door for us.
“Mr. Salvatore,” he said to my dad with a nod, his Italian accent thick.
Even after all these years, Enzo still sounded like he had just gotten off the boat from Sicily. He worked for one of the crime bosses in Italy, who gave him to our family, and he’d been with us ever since.
“Enzo.” Dad nodded. “It’s a big day.”
“Yes, sir. Your boys are becoming men.” He patted Dad on the arm. “Congratulazioni.”
Luca snorted at his comment, taking offense at being called a boy. We’d been men for years. All three of us appeared much older than eighteen, and with our unusual upbringing, we were mentally years ahead of our time.
Besides, Luca would be nineteen in July, with Bash only a month behind him. And I was in November.
Marcello stood beside our dad, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He wore a black Henley that made his huge biceps even larger. You could tell he trained daily and never slacked on his workouts.
“My boys.” Dad rested his hands on mine and Luca’s shoulders, his eyes moving between us. “This is going to be the hardest two months of your lives. But I have prepared you. After a day on the island, you’ll want to leave. Stay strong. The struggle is worth it in the end.”
“Any advice for us?” Bash asked, shifting his stance to his right foot, clearly nervous about going to the island.
“You’re a Salvatore,” Dad said. “Make them fear the name I gave you.”
My heart swelled at his words. Our adoptive father was mean and terrifying, but he was my dad and had been for the past ten years. I had been his son longer than I was Damian Townsend. My biological father was almost a distant memory at this point.
So when Arlo called us his sons—Salvatores—it meant something to me. That was why I would do anything he asked. Disappointing him was not an option. I wanted to be part of this family, and so did Bash.
He gave each of us a one-arm hug.
“Good luck,” he told us. “I’ll be watching from a distance.”
