I couldn’t look away, scared that if I did, he might vanish.
“Take it,” he commanded. “It’s yours.”
I met his thrusts, riding his cock as my knees clamped around his body. I murmured his name. It was a prayer. A plea for the climax I craved, but also for this moment never to end.
“I’ve got you,” he promised.
I collapsed on his chest, fingers digging into his hair, pushing against his scalp. His pulse pounded under my touch, and I held onto the beat, letting it revive my soul. A helpless moan escaped my lips, and then he was kissing me again.
The orgasm was right there, burning through my flesh. My body tensed, coiled like a spring ready to snap.
“Take it,” Vincenzo growled.
I did. With a scream, my body spasmed violently. The beast beneath me groaned, taking everything I gave. He didn’t stop moving, didn’t pull back. When I went limp with pleasure, he thrust deep, holding me tight as he spilled himself deep inside me. He was strong, unyielding, while I was a spent, shivering mess. He clutched me close, brushing a hand over my back. Such a strong touch. I leaned into his solid presence, letting my pleasure-drenched mind wander into oblivion.
He had me.He’s never letting me go.
Chapter 49 –Amanda
Imade a fascinating discovery earlier this morning. When I woke to a soft, purring lump who guarded me while his papa was gone, I laid in bed for a half hour, enjoying the calm. There was no need to rush away. There was no work demanding my attention or social ladders that needed to be climbed. I could simply exist. That peace was a balm to my soul. Nature finally drove me from the warm nest, and when I came back to see the mess we’d made last night, I decided to wash the bedding.
To make it ready for whenever the mobster came home. Plus, there was the dirty sweatshirt crumpled at the bottom of the plastic bin. Determined to try my hand at being domestic, I compiled a few loads to be washed.
Only…I couldn’t find the laundry.
I figured in a loft apartment, there would be a closet somewhere with a washer and dryer. But after searching, I put on one of my new outfits and went to the first floor to scope out the building. I hoped there was an onsite communal laundry, so I didn’t have to go to a laundromat.
That was where I met Bill and some other rough-looking men. The henchman only laughed when I asked where the building’s laundry facilities were.
Not only did I discover that the other apartments on the top level were Vincenzo’s—one of them dedicated to laundry and other storage needs—but this whole building was his. Eight floors of prime real estate that sat empty, a fortress in the city that he kept to himself.
Sure, he had a dozen picked men who stayed on site, especially now that I was in the picture. But this was Vincenzo’s castle. A place of solitude, where he could roam about, away from the prying eyes of the famiglia and the rest of Boston.
It was a great location in the city, and I tried and failed to calculate how much something like this cost. The poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks had carved out a place for himself.
Accompanied by three of the goons, I wandered outside. When they offered to drive me, I said I preferred to walk the neighborhood. There was no protest, no instructions about my safety. I read their agreement to mean that this was Vincenzo’s turf, and I was safe here.
I ducked into a café, and using a bit of cash, since I didn’t trust the black card that’d been tucked into my wallet, I ordered a chai latte. As I waited, a group of girls entered. While all six of them had the same brown hair, olive complexion, and sharp, elegant features, their eyes set them apart. One of the girls was very familiar, but it wasn’t until she laughed that I realized she was the same woman from Mama Ana’s Bar & Grill.
The one who hated my and my sister’s guts for stealing her potential husbands.
Gabriella wasn’t wearing her usual scowl, which made her face brighter and younger. Or, at least, she wasn’t wearing the scowl until her gaze landed on me. Those russet brown eyes turned my way, and her whole body stiffened.
Well, screw her.
I wasn’t in control of her feelings, only my reaction to the situation. I lifted a hand in a friendly wave. The others noticed and whispered amongst themselves.
One of the group broke away. “Hi! I’m Maria.”
I smiled. “Hi, Maria. I’m Amanda.”
“I know! Gosh, you’re so pretty,” she laughed. “No wonder you caught V’s eye.”
She was probably too young to remember me. I bit my tongue to keep from asking how old she was. My guess? Not even eighteen. She didn’t realize I’d spent many,manyafternoons at the restaurant. First, as a child when Dad had business with the don. And then, during those two beautiful, forbidden years in high school…. I shook myself, not letting the past sweep into the present.
“Welcome to Boston, by the way,” Maria added.
Did she really not know anything about me? Maybe it was better to keep it that way. I didn’t feel like telling her we’d probably met when she was a young kid. I might only be a few years shy of thirty, but it would make me feel old to reveal that fact to her.
