Alessio kisses down my spine, his hands coming up to hold my butt cheeks apart. I can hear him drop to one knee, and then his tongue spreads my folds, his lips suck my clit, his long, capable fingers probe my hole that’s aching for him.
When I start pushing back against his face, wanting to ride it, Alessio turns me by my hips and again throws me over his shoulder.
He can’t help himself.
He’s a feral man with an untamed heart who’s trapped in modern times in his mansion and his designer suit. While he’s mastered self-control, sometimes, maybe when it’s safe to do so, he lets go. It’s humbling to be the person he can let go with.
He tosses me onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. I bounce and, once settled, spread my legs and tease him by touching myself while he takes off his clothes.
Naked, Alessio prowls over me. He pushes inside me to the hilt while swallowing my scream. I’m not made of glass, but Alessio is big, and his width takes a bit to get used to. As punishment for his plunging into me, I dig my nails into his hair, grab a fistful, and pull. He keeps kissing me while I pull his hair. I’m sure it hurts him, but I think he’s turned on.
Alessio sneaks a hand under my bottom and lifts my hip as if he needs to be inside me more. The angle. Oh my God, the angle this gives me makes me release him and run my hands gently through his hair. Now he moves slowly, thoroughly, every thrust so embarrassingly satisfying that I moan loudly.
I won’t last. I won’t even make two more thrusts.
Alessio bites the side of my neck and whispers, “I need to fuck you hard, Lake.”
“Okay.”
“Hold on to your legs.”
Alessio props himself up on his fists and starts to pound into me. Our eyes are locked, and his expression is feral, devoid of humanity. It’s difficult to hold such a cold and deadly stare, but I don’t want to look away, because if I do, I feel like I’d be dismissing the parts of Alessio he chooses to share with me.
He’s a complicated man. Ruthless even, and when he looks at me like this, it’s as if he’s daring me to look away. I won’t. I’m not afraid of how I feel about him. I’m only afraid of what will happen when he thinks all this wasn’t as real for me as it was for him. He’ll think I lied to him about this thing between us. Nobody can fake attraction like this. This is the kind of attraction that’s blind. It’s why we’re trapped together, day after day, our bond becoming stronger and stronger.
Alessio’s intensely focused on the objective, which is to make us both come. He’s hitting the right place inside me, and my eyes roll back as my body shudders and I orgasm. I’m busy in my own bliss when he ejaculates inside me. And remains there.
I expect him to roll over, but he starts to kiss me again. I can feel him softening inside my channel, but he doesn’t pull out. Instead, he starts to move inside me as if ready for round two. Inside me, he’s growing again.
Alessio fucks like Hercules.
THIRTY-ONE
WOKE UP AS GANGSTERS
Lake
Since Alessio slays in bed and has the stamina of a god, we do it until the wee hours of the morning. But Alessio’s up and about within hours of falling asleep, and I hear him whistling in the bathroom while the water runs in the sink, and, presumably, he shaves. Presumably, because I can’t get out of bed like he does. I just can’t.
And I don’t.
It’s eleven in the morning when I finally feel like I might’ve gotten enough sleep to function for the day. I’d like to enjoy exploring Paris. I remember I promised Leo we wouldn’t study while we’re here, but I’m still a governess who will get her first paycheck next week, so I have a responsibility to earn it and teach Leo something about this city or country that he doesn’t already know.
This will be a challenge, seeing as how I’ll learn along with him. This makes me the worst governess in the world. This and the fact that I’m sleeping with his uncle.
Let’s not forget, I’m also spying on his uncle.
This line of thinking jars my memories of Hades and the woman across from me who wouldn’t look away, even after I did. She must have known I was uncomfortable, yet she kept staring as if playing some sort of game. I’ll blink first every time and not care, so I wasn’t sure if that got her rocks off or not. When I think about the screwdriver in my purse, I roll over and sniff Alessio’s pillow. It smells just like him.
I use the restroom and freshen up in the bathroom, then check my phone for updates on my uncle. The doctor says his vitals are looking better than yesterday, so he’s optimistic about his progress. He does mention that with brain injuries, it’s difficult to tell when a patient might wake up, but again, the doctor sounds hopeful.
Sometimes, all we can do is hope. Sometimes, that’s all anyone needs to get through the day.
I follow the smell of croissants outside. Alessio sits on the terrace, his feet resting on the railing as he looks over an unusual map spread out between his hands. An unlit cigar hangs between his lips.
Leo wears a long black robe and Alessio’s black shades, and he’s holding a praline stick between his teeth. In his best grown-man voice, he says, “Mornin’, Lake.”
“Good morning.” I try to remove Alessio’s cigar, but he evades my attempts.
