My eyes widen when he guides his cock to my lips, sliding his thickness between them with a guttural groan. “Wider, baby.”
I part my lips wider, eyes growing teary as he slides his length along my tongue and deeper into my mouth until he’s halfway in. “I need you to suck now,piccola fiamma.”
I lift my teary eyes to his as I close my lips around him, tasting the salty pre-cum on my tongue. I lift one hand and wrap it around his length, slowly stroking.
Last night, when I realized that Lorenzo Rossi, a man from the most dangerous family in the city was actually my hacker friend, I never imagined I would have my lips wrapped around his cock twenty-four hours later. Or that I would know what it was like to get so much pleasure that I could forget my own name. But now, I want to make him feel the same way.
To find his pleasure in me.
The need to please him is intense, and I don’t realize it until my hands are sliding up his abs, caressing the path up his smooth skin as he slides his cock in and out of my mouth. I realize that I love his texture against my tongue, his scent, and just how dominating he looks towering over me. He’s thick, and I gag a little, but I’m nothing if not determined to bring him pleasure. I try to relax my muscles to take more of him. Something in my chest shifts when I touch the tattoo on his ribs. A stamp. His secret identity.
Our little secret.
“Fuck!” Lorenzo roars, sliding his hand to fist my hair and nudging my head up as he sinks his cock deeper into my throat, making me choke. I gasp as his thrusts turn jerky and he presses down, testing both of our limits. Tears spill down my cheeks, but I don’t break eye contact. I take it all. The way the veins in his neck and forehead pop, straining against his skin with restrained power. The way those eyes grow dazed and all the noises he makes as he uses my mouth. Letting me pleasure him.
Raziel.
His muscles tense, and his breathing turns shallow, so I push forward, taking as much of him as I possibly can into my mouth. He roars, seconds before I feel his cum hit the back of my throat. I gag, forcing him to pull back and spill the rest over my chest, heaving as he paints me like a canvas.
“Fuuuck!” he growls, stroking his shaft over my lips, those eyes dark and heated. Focused on me with a promise to make me his the next time. We’re both heaving when he slides back down my body. Neither of us speaks as Lorenzo takes my hand and pulls me out of bed.
In the bathroom, I’m afraid to look into the mirror and see the results of my wanton behavior. Lorenzo lifts me onto thecounter before grabbing a towel and wetting it, then turning to me. “I’m almost sad to see this go,” he rasps, brushing the wet towel over my chest. “You look so goddamned sexy covered with my cum.”
I flush, uncertain of how to respond to that. “You’re not angry with me?”
He pauses, those dark brows furrowing in confusion. “Why would I be angry with you?”
“I didn’t tell you when I found out you were Raziel.”
“Aaah,” he muses, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “I can’t fault you for that. You clearly needed time to come to terms with it.”
“And you don’t?”
“No,” he says, leaning forward and brushing his mouth over mine. “I feel like I've known you forever, Fiona, and when you slipped up earlier, that was the last piece of the puzzle. I don't need time to come to terms with the fact that I want you. I did that ages ago.”
His words make my heart race. “A-and you don’t mind that it’s me?”
“You have no fucking idea how happy I am that it’s you,” he growls, taking me in his arms and carrying me back to bed. “I couldn’t have dreamed up a better Var.”
Chapter Three
Lorenzo
I curse at the paperwork spread on my desk. There is no saving the fucking mob from its old-fashioned ways. It doesn’t fucking matter that I developed software that would require weapons of mass destruction to break into; most people who used to work for my father and, now my brother would rather trust papers than computers. What is this? The sixties?
Matteo welcomed technology in ways that my father's generation never did, but it will take a while before the older generation gets on board. And it's for that very fucking reason that I’m forced to sift through boxes upon boxes of paperwork. Something I wouldn't have had to do if all this fucking information had been scanned into the computer. One key stroke and a command would have cut down on the days I'll need to get through this shit.
Damn it!
I push back from my seat when my eyes begin to ache, taking off my glasses and tossing them on the desk as I get up. It’s been a long fucking day, and I’m not close to being done. I don’t bother glancing up at the clock as I walk to the small kitchenette in my office to make myself some instant coffee. I’ve just about taken the first sip when my phone vibrates on thedesk. Something in me eases before I even walk over and see the caller.
Fiona.
Never in a million years would I have thought that Fiona would really be Var, the woman I fell for from the moment we started chatting. I didn’t know much about her beyond the fact that she lived in New York and had two older brothers. Fuck, now that I think about it, she knew more about my life than I knew about hers. The signs were all there, and maybe I would have connected the dots sooner if I had paid close attention to the little clues she dropped over the years.
I shouldn’t want her. A woman a decade younger than me. So soft and innocent.
So naive.
