“Fuck, I missed you,” I whisper, groaning as I thrust in and out a few times, reveling in the feel of her tightening core. She’s so wet for me.
I roll her over and pull her hips up, giving her a sharp bite and a hard slap on her ass, and I rub the pink flesh before thrusting back in from behind. Her back arches, and we fuck in a frenzy of pent-up emotion. I’m steadying her hips to take control while she’s trying to move at her own tempo. She’s fighting me, and I’m enjoying her struggle, so I spank and grope the swell of her ass again, and she lets out a gratifying moan.
I pull out, and she immediately pushes me back and straddles me, kissing me hard while biting my lip. She’s fucking stunning when she slides onto me with her fingers wrapped around the base of my erection and takes me in deep. I bunch up her dress in my hands to watch her move up and down. Then I drop my head back and close my eyes, and the pleasure that only she can give me builds as I dig my fingers into her hips and let her ride me.
When I look back up, I watch her, eyes shut and racing to her orgasm. A trickle of sweat slides into her cleavage, so I yank her dress down to wipe it away and cover her breast with one hand. My other hand trails down and circles her soft spot under her dress until she’s moaning loudly, then I stop and her eyes fly open.
Rolling us over again without pulling out, I take back control, adjusting my angle as her legs lock around my waist, and I rub her hard to make her come. I smother her whimper with my mouth as she releases with the most satisfying moan. My own orgasm isn’t far behind, and as she milks me, my balls tighten and I pour into her, never taking my eyes off of her for one millisecond. I growl, and we grind into each other, prolonging our release.
As my head begins to clear, her date flashes across my vision, and in my already furious state, I’m no longer able to suppress my emotions. “Open your eyes.” She’s dazed, still coming down from her high. “Open your eyes and look at me. You will only see me when you come.”
Her amber irises meet mine, and I’m immovable because I swear I see the look of adoration she used to give me. But that look is quickly replaced with regret when she realizes that she let me fuck her. Her regret fuels my resentment. I’m still semi-hard inside her and thrust two times.
“You think I would allow anyone else to fuck you?”
She struggles to get away from me, apparently stunned by my words, but I grab her wrists, pinning them by her head and push my hips against her while inching my face close to hers. “I will kill anyone who touches you.” And I lick the shell of her ear and push into her once more.
Her eyes widen in shock. “Get off me!” She jerks against me helplessly, trying to break free.
I tilt my head while holding her down effortlessly. “You like me inside you, and that pisses you off. It pisses you off that I can make you come so easily. It infuriates you that you like my cock,” I taunt and pull out, releasing her wrists and quickly standing up.
“Fuck you, Luca. What happened to you? Get out!” She sits up and fitfully rights her dress.
“What happened?” I bark, and she flinches. “You happened! You fucking broke me!” As I button my pants, I look down my nose at her, and a twinge of remorse pierces my soul. But when she rises, tears brimming her eyes, and completely ignores me as she flees to her room, I continue to lash out at her. “You find it so easy to dismiss me now, but you’ll call me when you need me, Fallon!”
I leave her apartment, slamming the door behind me. I need as much distance as possible from her right now.
Sprinting downstairs, I cross the street, dodging traffic as I go, and jump into my car, immediately calling David. “Where is he?”
“Past the second intersection, third street on the left,” he answers.
I hang up, fire up my Maserati and find her date within five minutes.
Taking my gun from the glove compartment, I hide it in the back of my pants, under my untucked dress shirt. I step onto the curb just before he passes my car and crowd him face-first against the wall of the closed shop. One hand presses the barrel of my gun into his side, and my other hand grips his neck. “Stay away from Fallon.”
“What?” He tries to turn his head, but I cram his face against the concrete wall while planting my elbow in his neck.
“Stay away from her. Understand?”
“Yes…but,” he stammers.
“No buts. Understood?” I lower my voice while continuously glancing around.
“Yes.”
I release him, jump back into my car, and hit the gas immediately to race to my penthouse. A few minutes with her, and I lose control over the entire night because she’s an addiction I can’t seem to shed.
After parking the car in front of my building, I stride through the reception area to be met by Adriano. He falls into step next to me as I head toward the elevators.
“What did you do?” He looks at me warily with a grin.
I don’t speak until we’re inside my penthouse, using the time in the elevator to cool the hell off. I’m vibrating with rage at myself and her. At myself for letting my anger win. At her for cutting me out of her life. For never trusting me. For fucking me and then regretting it.
With both palms resting on my kitchen island, I let my head drop between my shoulders. “I didn’t follow them, but I did wait around until they returned to her apartment, and then I lost it when I found out he kissed her.”
“What happened?”
I look up at Adriano and swipe my hand over my face. “I fucked her on the floor and then lashed out at her.”
Adriano’s face radiates disappointment.
“But that’s not all. I even tracked down her date and threatened him in public.”
“Luca—”
“There were no witnesses, but it wasn’t my best move to act so carelessly. And I didn’t get any information from Fallon. I’ve only made the bitterness worse between us.”
“I told you I should’ve gone. You just left after sex?”
“Yes. I left her crying.”
Adriano gives me a disapproving shake of his head. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
Still aggravated by the regret I witnessed in Fallon’s eyes and how she cut me out of her life, I answer resolutely, “No, I’m curious to find out how long it takes before she comes to me for help. Collopy is going to be a problem too. She’s a vindictive bitch, and I can’t figure out what we might be overlooking. This can’t be about her so-called lust for me. A woman like her is not driven by lust or love, but by money.” I’m going to let it play out. Let Fallon see what the consequences are without my interference.
“Fine, we wait. Camilla’s records have been deleted, by the way,” he informs.
I whip my gaze to Adriano in astonishment. “That would indicate… Feds?”
“FBI was also my first thought. Records aren’t easily deleted. Apparently, Camilla isn’t who she appeared to be.”
“Apparently. Fuck! What is with these women?”
“There’s another small thing,” he adds hesitantly.
“What?”
“There must be either someone powerful or some clean government body pulling the strings here. It’s not Collopy or another smalltime cop. My only two scenarios are either Camilla is FBI, or Fallon is talking to the police. The chance that Camilla is FBI is slimmer than Fallon talking to the cops.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, it’s possible Fallon is working with them. I didn’t see her go into the precinct, but they did interrogate her. And I don’t trust her at all.”
“Someone needs to find out what the fuck is going on with these girls, but let’s call it a night. I’ll speak to you Monday,” he says.
I shoot Adriano a parting glance and make my way to the terrace where I sit in the wind with my elbows resting on my knees. A small part of my conscience despises my actions with Fallon; I reacted too quickly after seeing the regret blaze across her eyes.
My rage and need to control the situation triumphs. I must stop taking
these risks – I have to keep my distance from her.
CHAPTER 8
Fallon
“You find it so easy to dismiss me now, but you’ll call me when you need me, Fallon!”
The door slams shut, vibrating with his fury. I shiver at the way he says my name right before he leaves. There isn’t a fine line between love and hate. There’s a fucked-up connection between our love and hate – it’s unforgettable and undeniable lust. Only, our lust is a lethal combination that sparks both emotions equally. He’s been in my life for almost eight months, but it feels as if we’ve had a lifetime of hurt and sorrow together. It barely took him two sentences to break down my walls.
Don’t deny me. Don’t turn me away.
I didn’t deny him, and I stopped fighting him, but instead of making love, we fucked like animals on the floor. And instead of pacifying his need, which it did for me, it angered him more. I didn’t feel a trace of the Luca I once knew. But I didn’t give him any comfort either. It was a duel for dominance and release, and he proved that he can easily control me. And that was the exact reason why I was avoiding him. I broke him, and his words broke me.
I don’t shower because I want to smell him around me, on me because oddly, it still appeases me. I loathed his parting words, but my body is still throbbing from his bites and spanks. And once again, I have bruises from kneeling on the floor while he pounded into me. I desire to be held by him and wish he would’ve stayed and kept his mouth shut. Our encounter showed me how much I still love him, and that terrifies me beyond anything else. I’m starting to believe that, until now, he was holding a huge part of himself back. And his frustration over my kiss and disappointment at something he obviously saw in my eyes has unleashed the beast in him.
I wrap the duvet around my body to find comfort in sleep where he’s the lead in my unsettling dreams.
***
I make myself call Teagan back after the third missed call.
“Finally, you call me back!”
“Hi to you too,” I reply sarcastically while lying back down on my bed.
“You’re MIA. What’ve you been up to?”
“Not much.” My restless night and my need to open up to someone lead me to have my first real conversation with Teagan since I’ve been back. “I miss him, and I didn’t tell you that I lost my job.”
“Fallon, you can always talk to me. You’ve been very distant the last couple of weeks, and I’m starting to worry about you. They fired you?”
“No, Charity Events got shut down. My severance package is minimal, and I can only cover all my expenses until November. I need a new job.”
“That gives you a three-month window, not bad. Isn’t that enough time?”
“Do you know how many job openings there are for copywriters?”
“Uhm…no.”
“None!”
“You’ll find one. Need any help updating your résumé?”
“Already did that. I still have to tell my parents; maybe my father can help me.”
“Tell them sooner rather than later.” She pauses and sighs. “Did you talk to Luca?”
I’ve told Teagan he ended our relationship to avoid having to come up with an elaborate lie about why I can’t be with him. “I saw him yesterday.” My tears fall freely the second I talk about my confusing and messed-up feelings toward him. “I didn’t even realize how much I missed him, but our entire encounter was highly dysfunctional.” I let out a snort. “We fucked, and he’s so angry about everything.”
“Why the hell is he angry? He dumped you!”
I have to be careful what I relay. “I don’t know. He left angry. I’m also angry but not regretful in the least.”
She laughs loudly. “Angry sex is that good, I get you.”
I experience my first genuine smile in days, and I’m saddened that I didn’t confide in my friend sooner. “Guess who I had dinner with yesterday.”
“Out with it.”
“Evan.”
“Evan?” she asks.
“Let it dawn on you…”
“Oh Evan! Hottie Evan from high school?”
“Yes. He moved to The Loop last week.”
“Wait. Where does Luca come in? You also saw him yesterday? Did something happen between Evan and you?”
“I had dinner with Evan—No, you wait. What happened between you and Evan?”
“We had sex, once,” she answers.
“I knew it! Well, nothing happened between us, but he did try to kiss me at the end of the night. Luca saw and came to my apartment.”
“Luca was jealous?”
“Ridiculously jealous,” I reply.
“What does he want?”
For me to accept him. “I don’t know.”
“What do you want?”
To be with him the way it was before I found out that he was the underboss of the Chicago Syndicate. “Don’t know that either.”
“You should find out what you want or else he’ll drag you into an endless cycle, babe.”
“I know.” I turn my gaze to the window. What I want doesn’t matter because that’s impossible. He’s enraged and hostile. So am I, but my heart is still affected by him. Even his livid touch excited me.
“Hey, sorry to leave you hanging, but I have to go to dinner. I’m going to call you later when I get back, okay? Don’t ignore my call.” She laughs, and she’s gone.
I’m still staring outside when a lone tear trickles onto my pillow. Dashing it away, I stand up because today I’m going grocery shopping and not lying around in bed. He was horrible, but I’m not moping around the house brooding about it.
After a hurried shower, I head out to the ATM around the corner before getting my groceries. As I’m rubbing my upper arms, I realize I should’ve worn pants or at least a jacket instead of my long-sleeve, red cotton dress. I’m standing in line behind an extremely slow old woman, and the thunder above my head announces a storm is coming, drowning out the street noise for a few seconds. The uncontrolled wind is rustling energetically through the streets and high rises. Fall, usually the calm season, is starting with an unexpected storm.
I step forward and return the old lady’s sincere smile as I take my wallet out of my purse. A few droplets of water are already falling from the sky while I enter my code and check the amount of money I have in my account. I arch a brow at the numbers on the display that can’t possibly be correct. That’s way too much to be from my severance package. First, it wouldn’t be deposited this quickly, and second, it wasn’t fifty-thousand dollars. Fifty-thousand dollars have been added to my account. The man behind me sighs impatiently, so I withdraw some cash and hurriedly end the transaction. I decide to skip the grocery store and return to my apartment to try to find out what’s going on.
I immediately turn on my laptop on the kitchen table, drag the chair out to sit down, and log in to my bank’s website. Scrolling down the screen, I stop at my back statements and click on ‘August’. There’s been one deposit of fifty-thousand dollars by an unrecognizable bank account; it’s not an American account number. I Google the name and end up clicking on a high-end beauty and lifestyle website. I frown as Luca wanders into my mind. Is he paying me off? For what? What kind of games is he playing? I receive money from some unknown source, but it all seems perfectly legal; isn’t this the Syndicate’s signature?
Completely offended that Luca feels the need to pay me, I get the cash out of my wallet and snatch my keys off the table before I bolt down the stairs into the now pouring rain and hail the first cab that drives by with a wave of my hand.
“The Blackhall,” I tell the driver, and we move through the wet streets of Chicago.
Almost twenty minutes in this silent cab has only managed to worsen my annoyance. A car is blocking the front entrance of Luca’s building, so I quickly pay the driver and run down the sidewalk and inside the building with my head bent down, feeling the thick rain dripping into my hair.
Before I even reach the reception
desk, I announce, “I’m here for DeMiliano. Tell him Fallon’s here to see him.” I run my hand through my semi-wet hair.
“Good morning, miss,” he greets too happily and picks up his phone. A fake smile tugs at his lips while he waits for Luca to answer.
I impatiently drum my fingers on his desk until he looks at them pointedly, so I stop.
“He’s not picking up. Can I take a message?”
“Is he home?” I retort.
“Miss, I can’t answer that.”
I want to punch that false smile off his face. “Can you try again, please?” I’m not leaving until I talk to him today.
He picks up the phone with obvious displeasure, and we wait again. He shakes his head at first, but then his eyes widen. “Mr. DeMiliano, Fallon is downstairs to see you.”
I can’t overhear what Luca is telling him.
“Miss, could you maybe call him for an appointment?”
“What?!” I throw my hands up in the air. “Luca, I’m not leaving. We need to talk!” I scream for him to overhear while the receptionist looks amazed at my sudden outburst.
“Yes, sir.” He hangs up and points to the elevators. “Penthouse floor.”
In the rising elevator, I take a steadying breath, preparing myself to confront him.
Be strong.
The door opens, and I step into the living room, mesmerized by the furious clouds passing by his floor-to-ceiling windows, but I don’t hear a sound. We’re in the middle of the storm that surrounds his penthouse in the daylight darkness of the clouds.
For Luca (Chicago Syndicate Book 2) Page 4
