Lucy looks at me in surprise. “You mean…?”
Dad lecturing me from behind his desk like I’m just one of his men and not his trusted son and heir stings. But I trust Lucy. I grasp her curls, making her surrender her mouth to me, but not quite kissing her. “I want you with me. Will you come with me, my love?”
“I always want you,” she breathes, and then corrects herself. “Want to be with you.”
“Then be with me, my love.” Rolling on top of her, I reach between her legs, stroke along her sex, and find her clit, teasing her slowly. She licks her lips and opens her legs wider for me. Every circle of her clit makes her breathe faster.
“Damiano, please,” she whispers.
I’m enraptured by the glorious surrender on her face. She moans louder the more aroused she gets, and I have to keep shushing her. I press a kiss to her panting mouth. “Shush, my love.”
She nods urgently, but then another wave of pleasure takes hold of her, and she moans again. Lucy can’t or won’t remember to keep her voice down, so I take my hand away.
“No. Please don’t stop. I’ll be quiet,” she whispers urgently.
“You promise?”
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and nods, pleading with her eyes.
“You’ll keep quiet while I fuck you with my fingers?”
“I will. I swear it.”
“You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”
She seizes fistfuls of my shirt. “Yes.Yes.”
I love when she’s needy for me. I crave it like oxygen. I need to seal this promise to each other by making her come. With a hand pressed over her mouth—because I know Lucy can’t keep her voice down to save both our lives—I ease my middle finger into her. She whimpers around my hand as I start to pump my finger into her. A groan of my own escapes my lips. Her pretty pussy is so tight and slippery around my finger. I add another finger, her moans muffled by my hand. I keep moving my fingers in shallow thrusts and rubbing the spot behind her clit. Her wetness is all over my hand.
Lucy escapes my smothering hand and cries out.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I seethe, clamping my hand over her mouth again. “Goddamn little troublemaker who can’t keep quiet while I fuck your tight pussy with my fingers. I should just shove my cock down your throat so you can’t make a sound.”
Her eyes flash with pleasure, like she likes the sound of that.
All in good time. I’m having too much fun blasting her with my fingers.
“I’m so good to my pretty Lucy, aren’t I?” I whisper, pumping in and out of her. “I’m so fucking sweet to my brat. You’re going to come so hard to show me how grateful you are.”
Lucy nods as much as she’s able with my hand pressed over her mouth, and then her face flushes red. Her core clenches on my fingers, and her back arches as she comes, her breasts thrust upward. Fuck me, she’s magnificent. I keep thrusting my fingers. I don’t stop until her legs are shaking.
I take my hand away and lean over her, power and victory surging through me. I’m going to take what I want from now on. Lucy. Malus.
Everything.
“Good girl,” I whisper, pressing kisses to her damp, cooling skin. “So fucking pretty when you come. We’re going to show everyone in Malus who the real Barones are.”
I keepmy arm tight around Lucy’s waist as we enter the restaurant. It’s closed for the night, and the lighting is dim. Most of the chairs are already upturned on tables, and the waitstaff has gone home. This was the most neutral place we could agree on for our meeting, at the edge of Barone and Vici territory, and not far from Montoni streets. I’m armed, and so is Lucy. So are our invited guests, and we each have a handful of soldiers outside. It’s not a friendly meeting, but it’s not a hostile one either.
At least, I’m hoping that’s the way it’s going to go.
“You’re sure about this?” Antonio had asked me in the car on the way here, concern etched on his face.
“The Sokolis are getting bolder every week,” I’d told him. “And Dad’s stuck in the old ways. If I wait for his permission, we’ll all be dead.”
Antonio hadn’t looked convinced. Neither had Giovanni. They’re loyal to me, but they both know I’m going behind Dad’s back. If this goes wrong, we’re all fucked.
Our guests are already present, sitting around the table in the middle of the room with drinks before them. Don Vincenzo Vici, his hair slicked back and wearing a black suit and tie that no doubt conceals an array of weapons. Don Cristiano Montoni,dressed in an expensive black V-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows. Rafiel Lucania, with an easy smile but sharp eyes, wearing a tight white T-shirt and sporting so much ink there’s not a bare inch of skin on him.
