by Piper Stone
I rolled her over, forcing her on top.
“Oh. So bad,” she whispered, planting her hands on my chest as she undulated her hips.
“Ride me, Winter. Hard.” The series of growls erupting from my throat were primal, a reminder of who she belonged to. I cupped her breasts, kneading her soft skin as she obeyed me, the look on her face remaining mischievous.
“Like this?” she whispered, still clamping her muscles as she rocked me.
I pinched her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, twisting and turning.
“Perfect.”
She moaned from the pain, throwing her head back, the anguished sound floating into the air. “Oh, yes. So good.”
“So tight and wet, my bad little girl.”
I moved with her, jutting my hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with our animalistic growls. I wanted this to last, to experience the kind of joy that had been missing from my life, for hours.
But my balls were aching too significantly, my cock swelling deep within her.
Winter swept her long hair back and forth, her moans escalating.
I was ready to explode. Issuing a series of guttural sounds, I rolled her over once again, never breaking our connection. As I shifted onto my hands, lifting my body above hers, I gave her a savage smile. “Mine.” I pumped into her hard and fast as she twisted her mouth, her body reacting to mine, the electricity sparking a huge fire ready to consume us both.
“Oh, so good. So...” she struggled to say, her eyes half closed.
“Come for me. I want you to come with me,” I commanded, my voice no longer my own.
“Uh-huh. Yes. Yes. Yes...”
Every muscle in my body tensed as the adrenaline rush crashed down over me, every cell in my body bursting. As she began to climax, issuing the most beautiful moans I’d ever heard, there was no holding back. I erupted inside, filling her with my seed.
And for some crazy reason, I thought of Father McGivney, a proverb he’d once whispered into my ear.
“For the evil man has no future; the lamp of the wicked will be put out.”
My own brother had once believed I was capable of revenge, doing horrible things to my own family.
Why was I terrified that I was the evil man?
Like father, like son.
Chapter Twelve
Winter
Pensive.
Matteo was just as tense as before, although I’d seen a change in him to a small degree. He wasn’t as formal as before. Just seeing him in shorts and a polo was a wonderful change. The incredible round of sex had somehow brought us closer, even though that wasn’t enough to create a foundation.
Even with the beautiful and very romantic music playing and the six candles he’d lit without me asking. And with the expensive bottle of wine he’d insisted on opening, making certain my glass was full at all times.
He was doing what my friends would call a full court press and I wasn’t certain why. For all practical purposes, there was no choice in whether or not I accepted his hand in marriage. He and I both knew we’d been backed into a corner. I huffed just thinking about it.
There was something within Matteo, a darkness that had nothing to do with the Taglioni mafia dude searching to find me.
Whatever he was hiding was very private but woven so tightly around his throat that I knew one day it would strangle him.
I watched him for a few minutes as I sipped my wine, wondering what he was thinking about. The sight of the gun never far out of his reach was foretelling enough, the ominous tones ones I wasn’t used to. Did my father have a weapon stashed away in his drawer of the home office? Yes. I’d found it many years before while snooping for Christmas presents. However, I’d never seen him hold the piece in his hand or take it when going out.
Perhaps I hadn’t been that observant.
Matteo had said there were always threats to the community members, as if our life was always on the edge of a cliff and with one wrong move, everything would come tumbling down. Maybe it should.
The fresh ocean air from the open door was invigorating, the light breeze causing the candles to flicker. This was the most comfortable I’d been in a long time, what a real vacation was supposed to feel like.
Only we weren’t on vacation. We were hiding out from an unseen enemy who wanted to capture and take me to some unknown destination.
Exactly as Matteo had done.
Sighing, I moved back to the stove, stirring the marinara sauce I’d made. Whoever had opened up the place, making the various purchases, had thought of almost everything. Just the simple act of making dinner had allowed me to slide into a place of peace. We were merely pretending, but I actually found myself enjoying the time alone with him. Even the smell of garlic wafting in the small kitchen was a normalcy that I desperately needed.
If only life could be like this all the time.
I felt his presence behind me and bristled for no other reason than I never knew what to expect with him. The spanking had been an oddly cathartic moment, almost as if I was giving into his authority.
His domination.
I couldn’t shake the strange sensations that had left me riddled with guilt and shame. I’d refused to date any men who remotely seemed controlling, preferring the easygoing kind. And where had that gotten me? I’d never been happy. Not once. Was I just programmed like my mother and all the other women within the community?
As he crowded closer, the scent of him overpowered the delectable aroma of spaghetti sauce and fresh bread. My entire body tingled and he hadn’t touched me, my mouth watering for more of his powerful kisses, his husky commands.
“Delicious,” he breathed, his hot breath cascading across my neck.
“Dinner is almost ready.”
“While I wasn’t talking about the food, is there anything I can do to help?” His tone was husky, reeking of lust.
My pussy quivered as he slid a single finger down my arm, growling in the low way he always did.
I was surprised at his question, an offer that I would never have believed he would enjoy making. “You can get the bread from the oven while I drain the noodles. There’s a cutting board and garlic butter over there. If you’d like, you can cut a few pieces and slather them with gooey goodness.”
“Gooey goodness.” Matteo chuckled under his breath. “That I think I can handle.”
I turned to watch him, hiding behind the glass for a few seconds as he glanced at the oven, finally opening the door and grabbing a mitt. When he started to place the hot pan on a wooden surface, my eyes opened wide. “Whoa. Not on that surface.”
For a top-level executive, a man who controlled the welfare of a multimillion-dollar company, he seemed completely thrown by my statement.
I put my wine on the counter, shaking my head as I grabbed and handed him another potholder.
The expression on his face was priceless, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I don’t want you to burn anything, including yourself. Then you’ll be forced to learn whether I have a bedside manner as a nurse or not,” I mused, still able to feel his heated gaze.
“Do you enjoy being a nurse?”
After doling out portions of pasta on two plates, I shifted back to face him, thinking about how to answer him. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I thought about becoming a doctor, but honestly, nurses are able to work closely with patients. It’s very rewarding.” I put the plates on the counter near him, moving to grab the sauce.
He was working diligently, cutting every portion exactly the same size. He was a man who didn’t like anything out of his control. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off him as I spooned marinara on the noodles. Just being near him was electrifying, my aching nipples fully aroused. As I added sprinkles of Romano cheese, he finally lifted his head, studying me intently.
“You do like cheese, don’t you?”
“Very much so.” A smile crossed his face, the subtle look more boyish than
I’d seen. “I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.”
“Don’t you eat?”
As he added bread to the plates, moving to retrieve the bottle of wine, he lifted a single eyebrow. “I work long hours at the office. By the time I leave, I usually go to one of my favorite places for a couple drinks and a burger.”
“I hope you are with friends at least?”
“Not usually. I set goals and I complete them,” he answered.
“No dates?” I was surprised I’d asked the question.
“Only when necessary.”
I shook my head, giving him my version of an admonishing glance. “Wow. Okay. What about weekends, having friends over? Don’t you cook at all? You know, grilling out?” I grabbed some silverware and napkins, rolling my eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Barbecues with friends. Steaks? Ribs?”
Grinning, he leaned against the counter. “I own a grill. Does that count?”
“Let me guess. You have a wonderful wine and liquor collection; however, if I were to look into your refrigerator, I’d find bottled water and ketchup. Right?”
“Mayonnaise, not ketchup. I’m a mayo kind of guy. And beer. I do enjoy an occasional cold one, but guilty as charged.”
I took both plates, the silverware and the napkins, positioning them in one hand while I grabbed my wineglass. “You work far too hard and that’s very sad. That’s not what life is about.”
“Let me get one of the plates.”
It was my turn to lift my eyebrows. “Just follow me. Once a waitress, always a waitress.” I gave him a tilt of my head before walking to the coffee table, completely bypassing the kitchen table and chairs.
When he said nothing, I shot him a glance before placing the plates onto the glass surface, immediately easing onto the floor.
“Is there something wrong with the chairs?” he asked, the grin remaining.
“That’s so... boring,” I teased. “Besides, we have candles burning and nice music playing.”
He sauntered over, looking down at the table, so utterly confused. But he sat down, even crossing his legs, immediately topping off both wineglasses.
“You look about as thrilled as if you were in the dentist’s chair,” I said, laughing. When he remained uncomfortable, I slid my hand on top of his. The connection was just as intense, roaring through both of us like bottle rockets, but this time, he pulled away, instead reaching for his wine.
“I just realized what I’ve been missing in my life,” he said quietly.
“Surely you must live in one of those glorious Hampton estates, complete with a full staff that could make you anything.” I grabbed one of the forks and a spoon, immediately diving into the food. I was starving, the day sapping the majority of my energy.
I was rewarded with another chuckle as he grabbed his napkin. “I do have a house, but I wouldn’t call it an estate. Contrary to what you’ve seen, I’m not all about the fancy things that seem to make everyone happy. I definitely don’t have a staff, although I was forced to hire a weekly cleaning service, or the house would have collapsed under the dust.”
Everything he said saddened me even more. He was a lonely man trying to sort out something eating at him, refusing to enjoy life. I took a bite, immediately twirling another round of pasta. When I heard nothing, I glanced into his eyes.
They held utter amusement, the man finally laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
“I’ve never seen anyone eat spaghetti that way.”
I glanced down at my plate, scanning the surface. What the hell was he talking about? “What do you mean?”
“The spoon.”
When it sank in what he was saying, a giggle popped from my throat. “You are kidding me.”
He shook his head, staring at the spoon I’d brought for him as if it was just another weapon.
“Dear God, you’re not,” I mused. “See? It’s easy and allows you to get a huge mouthful without getting it all over yourself. Watch me.” He did just that, narrowing his eyes as I exaggerated my actions, finally popping the extra-large bite into my mouth.
His smile could have lit up the entire room, his eyes shimmering from the simple silliness. “That’s perfect and so are you.”
I was forced to take my time chewing as I glared at him. “What the hell does that mean?” I could feel the dribble of sauce sliding down my chin as well as the immediate change in his demeanor. He was famished, but for a few seconds, I envisioned being the one slathered in marinara.
Reaching over, he dragged his finger through the trickle of red, immediately bringing it to his mouth. I was quivering all over as I watched him sucking on the tip, the guttural sounds evoking my own raw needs.
“It means that you’re adorable, but your technique doesn’t always seem to work. Perhaps you need to work on that.” His eyes flashed as he gathered a mouthful of noodles and sauce, trying to twirl the end against the spoon.
For some reason, the moment was conversation-provoking, much like I’d had with my friends. Discussions with what few girlfriends I had in Florida always returned to men.
Men were sexy.
Men were a pain in the ass.
Men were a necessary evil.
And absolutely we rated those who wandered into whatever bar we just happened to be in. What was sexy to one on a scale of one to ten was often bypassed on another’s. Gorgeous eyes. A dimpled smile. The kind of ass in a pair of faded blue jeans that made you look several times. Square jaw. Nothing could be as sexy as the way he was tonight.
Unassuming and very real.
Even a touch vulnerable.
I was thrown by the swarm of emotions rolling through me like a fast-forward edition of a movie. I actually wanted to delve into his psyche, learning more about him. I could even find myself falling in...
Swallowing, my hand was shaking as I reached for the wine, almost tipping it over. Hell, no. This wasn’t about falling in love with any man, especially one handpicked by someone, something, or by some magic.
“This is incredible.” His genuine words brought me back to reality. “You are an excellent cook. You mentioned waiting tables. Have you done that before?”
“Please don’t tell me that you never worked outside of your family’s business.”
He took another bite, reaching for his wine before he answered. “My brother and I worked very hard in school. Summers were all about internships from as early as I can remember. I was never allowed an opportunity to do anything else. The question is why did you? What little I know about your father’s firm is enough to know he makes very excellent money.”
“Yes, he does. As you witnessed the other night, enough to allow us to live in a fancy house complete with some hired help, all to my mother’s liking. That’s just not me. I lived for the summers where I could have a job. That kept me away from New York and in a tropical environment. And yes, I waited tables every summer during college. The truth is I loved it.”
“That’s why we’ve never met before,” he said in such a subtle manner that I could tell he was trying to put some pieces together.
“Why does that matter?”
He actually looked sheepish when he answered. “Because if you’d remained in the Hamptons, our connection would have started then, and it would have had nothing to do with the fucking Box.”
I was surprised by his words more than I wanted to admit fully. Maybe that could have been true. Maybe I would have found the love of my life. I clamped my eyes shut, forcing out the ridiculous thought.
“What is life to you, Winter?” he asked after a few seconds.
“You mean other than making my own choices in both professions and in men?” The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them. “I’m sorry. That was shitty of me.”
He snickered and rolled another spoonful. “Don’t worry. I do have thicker skin than that. Please go on. I want to hear what makes you happy since you seem to think that I’m miserable.”
> Touché.
“Okay. Life is about enjoying the little things as well as the various accomplishments you have through the years. It’s about savoring the moment, being able to go with the flow even when certain things are kicking you in the ass.” He remained quiet as I thought about the question for a full minute. “Life is about waking up on a Saturday morning with nothing to do but enjoy the day. Maybe walking on the beach. Maybe shopping to make a special meal together. Maybe finding a concert or a movie to go to. It’s about celebrating your friend’s successes or the birth of a child, the impromptu party in the middle of the week. It’s about the sunsets and sunrises, the blooming of flowers and the beautiful smell of freshly cut grass.”
I pulled the glass to my lips, licking around the rim as I concentrated on the music. His silence was deafening.
“That sounds like a beautiful life, one full of richness. Could you ever see sharing that with someone?” Matteo asked finally.
“Absolutely. That’s the best part of my fantasy life, sharing it with someone special.”
After he exhaled, we ate in silence for a few minutes.
“I wish I could provide that for you, but I’m honestly not certain I know how.” He swirled the wine in his glass, staring out the set of open doors, the candlelight only adding to the haunting quality of his words.
“Don’t try. Just learn to enjoy.”
He lifted his glass, waiting until I brought mine against his, the subtle clink more about solidarity than romance. “I would love to be able to do that. The level of responsibility that I have is significant, the work vital.”
“For Capodanno Enterprises or for the sect?”
Leaning over, he brushed his index finger down the side of my face. “While I understand your reservations about the sect, what occurred several months ago required my help. It is a business entity with taxes paid and promises kept.”
While I’d never been privy to any of the inner workings of the sect, I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to learn anything now.
“Why? From what I understand, you can never become a Council member. Why do you care so much, to keep the respect of your brother?”
