My hand rests unsurely against his chest. My gaze roams over solid plains of muscle, glistening with water. The tattoo staring at me, I rub my thumb over it. It’s beautiful, scrolling, swirling letters. Leonardo. I never liked my name. I hate it, in fact, as my sperm donor gave it to me, then disappeared and left us until he thought my sister could boost his standing within the families. But seeing it sprawled across his chest, I can see the beauty in it.
I glance down to see his thick cock pointing at me. Standing at full attention, but the surprise is that my own stands there just as needy. I don’t know what’s happening or why I feel like I need him. I’m not gay. I never have been, but for him... I think I might be.
I swallow and blow out a breath. As I step into him, our chests touch, and I roam up over every feature until his eyes bore into my own. My hands shake, moving up and over his chest,trembling with emotion towards his face, and his eyes close as my hand reaches his cheek. I tiptoe up and press a gentle kiss to his lips. His eyes fly open, his big rough hands grip my waist. I blow out a breath, my ribs screaming at me, but I can only focus on him. As my heart pounds out of my chest, the only sound I can hear is my blood rushing around my own body. He stares at me. His jaw tense, his intense stare takes in every bruise and cut on my face. I smile as my resolve cracks.
“You came for me.” I rush out as I crash my lips to his.
His tongue pushes forcefully into my mouth, and I whimper against him as his hands slide down to my ass. His thick fingers grip my cheeks as he tugs me towards him. Our dicks are squashed between us, and I grind against him. I moan and start to writhe, but he pulls back, and I gasp and wince. His steely resolve spreads back across his face as I feel like he shuts me out again. I’m panting as I blink and try to calm my racing heart.
“I need to clean up—go to bed, Leonardo.” He must see the hurt in my eyes, the rejection spread across my face, but he cups my cheeks, his rough thumb strokes over my swollen lips before he leans in and kisses me so tenderly, I feel my knees might buckle. “There are painkillers in the nightstand and a water glass under the sink.”
He nods towards the bathroom counter. His hands drop away from me, and he turns his back to me. I swallow hard as a breath stutters from me. I turn and head for the bedroom. I lay myself onto the bed before the tears come rolling down my face, and I can’t stop. I sob. Maybe he doesn’t want me now. Maybe I’m all alone again. I cry until I can’t cry anymore. The bed dips beside me, and I hold my breath, trying to convince him I’m asleep, but his warm, rough hand tugs at my shoulder, pulling me onto my back.
“Take these.” He hands me the painkillers I’d neglected and a glass of water. I can’t look at him. But I take the painkillers, passing back the glass before I turn back away from him. I’m blatantly aware now that I’m still naked. Everything hurts. My eye stings from the bruising, and I want to cry again. I freeze as strong arms wrap gently around me, making sure he doesn’t press on my ribs.
“Sleep, lil’ lamb.” His strong chest presses against my back, his arms hold me tight against him, and his breath flutters along the back of my neck. His thumb rubs back and forth across my skin, and the rhythm of his heart beating against me, strong and solid. Soothes the panic in me, and I drift off to sleep. Hoping to wake up and still be wrapped in his arms.
Bellino
Chapter Thirty-One
I wake when he moves in my arms. His ass grinds against my dick, against my solid, hard, hot dick as it’s pressed between us. I’m not a good man. I never claimed to be, and it took everything in me not to throw him against the shower wall last night and fuck him right there. But the almost swollen shut eye and the cuts and bruises that mar his perfect skin enraged me more than I thought possible, and even though no one will ever hurt him again, I knew I couldn’t be gentle if I let myself have him.
I vowed after that first night that I wouldn’t fuck him again until he begged, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.
There’s a small moan that slips from his lips as his body involuntarily rubs against mine. I tighten my grip and kiss his shoulder, nipping at the skin, and he yelps as he jumps in my hold. “I know you’re awake, lil’ lamb. I won’t be as gracious tohold back if you carry on grinding that tight fucking ass against me.”
He shudders, taking a breath before he turns slowly in my hold. “You came for me.” I stare at his bruised face. “Was it their blood?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hurt them?”
“Yes.”
He stutters out a breath. “He’ll come for me.”
I grip his chin and tilt his gaze to meet mine. “He’s dead, lil’ lamb, ain’t no coming back from that.”
His eyes widen. “Dead? How?”
I smile. “I’m not a good man, lil’ lamb, and I don’t take kindly to people taking what’s mine.”
“You killed him?”
“I killed them all with my bare hands.” I watch his face for the disgust to wash over, but I don’t see it. It never comes. He reaches over and takes my hand in his so tenderly as he pulls it towards his face, staring at my knuckles, bruised and split, scabbed from the multiple impacts I drove into each of their faces as I pummelled them for what they’d done to him.
He gazes into my eyes, looking for something, before he slowly looks down at my chest. His fingers rub over his name, and he traces the letters.
“Why?”
“Why did I kill them, or why do I have the tattoo?”
“Both.”
“My wedding vows, I vowed to protect you. I failed you. But he tried to take what is mine; he was never going to get away with that.” I stroke my hand over his cheek, and his eyes flutter closed. “No one marks this perfect skin but me. The tattoo…” I shrug. “You’re mine.”
He pushes my chest, and I let him push me onto my back. He tosses the covers back and tentatively throws his leg over me. As he climbs his body over mine. Straddling me, he places his hands shakily against my chest, his eyes boring into my skin, into the tattoo, glazed and unfocused through unshed tears.
