by Dee Garcia
“You like it rough, don’t you?” I asked, biting down on a nipple again, her shameless moan the only answer I needed.
“We can make that happen, Angel. Right here. Right now.”
“How?”
“How?” I chuckled. She wanted a play by play? I’d give her one. “I'll spread you out, wrap my arms around your legs, and—”
“No, how,” she interjected. “How are you not afraid of me? How can you still want this me after—“
A quick burst of anger suddenly rushed through me at her inquisition, and I brought a hand to her neck, halting the rest of her words on the tip of her tongue, her eyes snapping open. With her focus on me, I slid my fingers into her cunt once more and went to work, intent on removing such thoughts from her mind.
“Stop dwelling on the past, Eden, do you hear me?” I squeezed her neck with a bit more pressure and she nodded, wrapping a hand around my wrist. “If Scarsi wasn't a factor, would you still have tried to kill me?”
“No,” she said, without hesitation.
“Exactly, so let it go. Or would you prefer I stop?”
“No…”
Letting up my ministrations, my fingers deep inside her, I asked, “What was that?”
“No.” Her answer was louder this time but still, I wasn’t satisfied.
“Yes? Stop?”
“No, no, don’t fucking stop,” she blurted out, her hands moving restlessly over her body.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Eden? Right here, pinned against the hood?”
“Right now, please…” she pleaded as I unbuckled my belt.
“How do you want it?”
“Hard…”
Then I popped the button on my jeans. “And?”
“Fast…”
I pulled a foil packet from my pocket. And?”
“And rough…”
Growling, I dropped my pants, my briefs along with them, and rolled the condom onto my rigid length. She wanted it rough? She was going to get rough. So rough she'd finally stop questioning me.
“Ready?” I gritted out.
“Fuck yes.”
“Then hook ‘em,” I demanded, positioning myself at her entrance as she obliged and draped her legs over my shoulders.
Without so much as a warning, I slid inside her in one swift thrust, my head falling back at the overwhelming feel of heat enveloping me.
Tight.
Warm.
Wet.
Mine.
At least for the moment she was mine. I gave it to her full force like she was mine too, thrusting harder and faster in crescendo with her sounds of pleasure. The last time we were together, my view was minimal, her pussy close up but her face far away, shadowed by the dark of night. But this time, I could see her, all of her, and it was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. Wild hair, flushed, dewy skin, tits bouncing, eyes trained on me; even the most well-cast porn had nothing on her.
Bringing my thumb to her clit, I rubbed it in quick circles, unsure of how much longer I could last if her pussy didn't stop squeezing my cock.
“You gonna come for me, Angel?” I asked, ramming into her relentlessly.
“Yeah,” she panted.
“When?”
“Right”—her breath hitched—“now!”
Two more deep rolls of my hips and sure enough, she fell apart, shattering beneath me with unabashed moans that had me following right behind her. Stilling in place, I groaned in ecstasy as my release tore through me and one thing rang out repetitively in my mind.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
“Mine.”
The following morning, I was sleeping soundly when a knock at my door dragged my eyes open, instantly blinding me like a vampire caught in daylight. Warm rays of the sun poured in through my window, splashing over the plush carpet, my bed, the chaise before it, everywhere. Groaning, I rolled over and reached out for my phone on the nightstand to check the time.
8 a.m., really?
Whoever was on the opposite side of that door quite obviously had a death wish. Everyone—and I mean everyone—knew I was not a morning person, and disrupting my sleep was a hazard to their wellbeing. Had it been a weekday, I would’ve let it slide, but it was Saturday morning. Wasn’t sleeping in on Saturday an internationally practiced thing? Or was that Sunday? Either way, it was the weekend and I was exhausted. Exhausted and sore. Stretching myself out proved just how sore I really was, too; muscles in all different places protesting against the sudden movement. I relished the toe-curling pain and smiled at the memory of my evening with Xander, snuggling into my pillow as images of him looming over me sprinted to the forefront of my mind. With those thoughts playing in a loop and my bed lulling me back into the abyss of sleep, my eyes began to fall shut only to snap right back open when another knock sounded off. Apparently, sleep was illegal.
Groaning in frustration, again, I lifted the duvet over my head and belted out, “Come in!”
Two seconds later, the sound of footsteps echoed within the walls of my room.
“Petal, Pa wants to see you in the library.”
“Why?” I whined at Alessio, my voice raspy.
“I’m not sure. He caught me on my way downstairs and asked me to come get you.”
“Tell him I’m sleeping, Less.”
“Okay, let me rephrase that. It wasn’t a request as much as it was ‘Tell your sister to come in here now, please.’ He sounds hardly in the mood for any bullshit this morning. I’d run your ass in there if I were you.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Cue third groan that included me flinging off the covers in a huff and all. Alessio pressed his lips together to mask an amused grin at my crabby attitude, and I flipped him off as I slid into my pearly silk robe, all but stomping down the hallway to the library. I hadn’t even stepped both feet into the room when Daddy’s voice stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Who’s left on your current list, Eden?” he questioned from behind the desk.
His laptop was open and small piles of papers were strewn about around his coffee mug, the personalized fountain pen I’d gotten him for Father’s Day cradled in his hand as he scribbled something onto a notepad. Blinking once, twice, three times, I was frozen in place and suddenly mute, too. All the air had just about left my lungs and I was certain I would drop dead at any moment from the lack of blood pumping through my heart. The question itself wasn’t atypical; in fact, it was a weekly occurrence, you know, business as usual, but that was before I'd spared a mark and allowed myself to fall for him… ’Cause that’s what I’d done. No matter how you worded it, I’d fallen for Xander.
Unamused brown eyes flew up to where I stood motionless at the threshold, not so patiently awaiting an answer.
Shit.
My brother was right. He was definitely not in a cheery mood. And the next ten seconds sealed the deal.
Dropping the pen onto the notebook without care, Daddy slid his glasses off his nose and arched a graying brow. “Well?”
Shuffling further into the room, I tried but miserably failed not to wring my fingers together nervously as I thought back to what he’d asked prior to my mini heart attack. My list. He wanted to know where I was on my list. At a standstill since meeting Xander, but obviously I wasn't going to say that.
“Um, Xander Royce, Christian Magri, and Kieran Lowell.”
“It’s not like you to work so slowly, Petal. What’s going on?”
“Nothing really. I, um, I’m just preoccupied with Gio, that’s all.”
He turned his chair toward me as I dropped down on the couch, regarding me with an inquisitive stare. “I understand, trust me I do, but I need you to get through that list as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” I said quietly, curling my legs beneath me. Typically, I didn’t ask questions when my father requested something of me, but given the sudden paranoia filling every nook and cranny of my being, I found myself blurting out, “Any particular reason wh
y?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, there is. Remy Kingston.” He held out a file. “He’s priority the minute you get through the last three you have pending.”
“Who is he?” I asked, taking the proffered information.
“Drug dealer, mostly narcotics. He’s been using what I’ve lent him to buy bulk quantities.”
“And what's the sob story?”
“Something similar to that of Mr. Royce’s, actually.”
I stilled at the sound of his name and lifted my eyes from the file. Bile rose in my throat, my stomach churning uncomfortably to a point I thought I would puke.
“Ill mother?” I finally managed to query after a beat.
“According to what he said, yes. That, however, is not the case. Mr. Kingston’s mother has long since passed away, almost ten years to be exact. He's invested every penny into these transactions that include smuggling to and from other countries.”
My eyes widened. “He’s used our entry to smuggle?”
“No, Marcello’s, hence how I found out about his little charade.”
“Wow.” I feigned disbelief, though really, I was actually somewhat surprised a loanee would dare be so ballsy.
“Mhmm. We can’t afford to have someone like him wandering the streets. It's bad enough Marcello has to clean up Mr. Kingston’s mess.”
“Agreed. I’ll get to him next week, I promise.”
“As soon as possible, Petal, please,” he said sternly, swiveling back toward the laptop.
Closing the file in my hands, I scooted to the edge of the couch and asked in an almost hopeful tone, “Would you prefer me to take him down first, then proceed with the list?”
“Absolutely not. Those gentlemen on your list may not be up to Mr. Kingston’s level of thievery, but nonetheless they’re still thieves. Finish them off, then move along to Remy. We’ll reconvene once they’re all out of the picture.”
Wrong, Daddy, I thought to myself, staring at the back of his chair and rising to my feet. I couldn't believe he truly thought Xander was a thief. He was always so understanding, especially in situations of this nature because he’d experienced something similar himself. My brother’s mom, Valentina, passed away from cancer when Gio and I were two, and although I was much too young to remember her or anything that went on during that time, I knew for a fact that her death still affected him to this day. Yes, he’d made some mistakes, one of them being the mistake that led to me, but he loved Valentina with all his heart, and because of that, he’d spared many of these loanees when their story was relatable. So why was Xander any different? Was there something else I didn't know about him?
“Eden.” His booming voice stopped me just before I made it to the door. I peeked over my shoulder to find him watching me with the most irate of expressions marring his face. “Are we clear?” he questioned, his tone cut and dry.
I nodded and turned away from him as a clusterfuck of emotions hit me like a ton of bricks on the way back to my bedroom. What the hell was I going to do? I’d already lied to Daddy twice about how far along I was on my list. Now I was going to have to lie to him yet again about Xander’s supposed death.
What a fucking mess.
Shutting the door softly, I shuffled over to my bed and face planted onto it, tossing Mr. Kingston’s file beside me. I contemplated falling back asleep to temporarily escape the hail of crap that was pouring down on my life, but one, I was wide awake, thanks to Daddy’s early morning briefing, and two, my phone buzzed on the nightstand, prompting me to check it. The text displayed on my screen was enough to do me in...
X: Good morning, Angel. Woke up missing you.
Yep, I'm so fucked.
Later on that afternoon, I left the house in a daze and headed down to the hospital to visit Gio. I hadn’t seen him since the middle of the week and Alessio had made it a fiendish point to remind me that our brother asked for me on a regular basis. Deep down, I knew he didn't mean it in a snarky manner, but it always came off that way, and I always felt nothing but guilt for missing days between visits. I suspected it had something to do with the fact that Daddy wasn't giving him any work as of yet. While he'd recovered within a month after the showdown at LeRoux’s and he appeared to be back to his usual stoic self, our father didn't agree on him getting back out there just yet, especially with the way Alessio handled his marks.
Viciously.
Sadistically.
Torturing them to their death.
And because of that, it was one-hundred percent out of the question until Daddy saw fit, which essentially made my brother a sitting duck. He loathed it, I know he did, but it wasn't up to him to decide. Bored out of his mind, Alessio spent most of his time picking up the little things Daddy let him manage around the compound, and the rest were spent by our brother’s side. If anything, I think that's the one aspect he didn't mind at all. But I also think he felt obligated to be there, almost as though he thought the man in that hospital bed—struggling to walk, to feed himself, to do anything—should've been him.
He wasn't alone in that respect.
I often felt the same too, that it should've been me instead of him. Why? Because Gio didn't deserve this, and if I had the ability to turn back time and switch places, I would do it, no questions asked.
The sleek silver handle was cool beneath my palm as I pushed it downward and let myself into the room. As he was eighty percent of the time, I found Gio laying down in bed, watching TV. The room was dark because he protested against the curtains being open. If they were open, then he had to watch the days pass him by, some sunny and guileless, others dark and dreary. If they were closed, at least he could create his own sense of time. That's how he'd explained it to me anyway. I didn’t agree with his coping mechanism, but this was the one thing he could control, and I was not going to be the person who took that away from him.
“Hey, G,” I said quietly as I approached his bed.
Gio turned his head toward me and the small smile that tilted up the corners of his mouth warmed my heart.
“There you are.”
I flew to his side and swallowed him in a hug, noting his grip to be stronger than it was just a few days prior. It was the smallest sign of improvement yet it brought fat tears of happiness to my eyes.
“I missed you.” My voice wavered through the sudden rush of emotions.
“I missed you too.” He squeezed me harder still, forcing a relieved and giddy laugh to bubble in my throat.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Same shit, different day.”
“Well, that hug wasn’t the same, so that’s good, right?”
He shrugged a shoulder and pressed a button on the control to lift the back of his bed. “I guess. It’s a minimal amount of strength.”
“But that’s still better than nothing. The doctors didn’t say it would be an easy road, but you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”
“Yeah, after six months of my life flies by, maybe even more,” he said solemnly.
The ache of his words collided with my heart. It was painful to see my brother so fragile, so depressed, and know there wasn’t anything I or anyone else could do about it. Time was all that could heal him, both physically and emotionally, and it fucking sucked.
“G. I know it’s hard, but at least you’re not in ICU—”
“It’s okay, Petal.” He took my hand. “I’m slowly coming to terms with it. It’s not like I can change it anyway, you know? Anyway, enough about me. What have you been up to?”
“Nothing, really. But I have to tell you something,” I said almost nervously.
“Whaaat?” He dragged out the word.
“I kinda, sorta, maybe went riding without you.”
Gio stared at me, blinking several times, his expression blank, and all I could do was smile exaggeratedly.
Throwing his head back, he barked out a laugh. “You think I'd be mad about that?”
I nodded through sudden confusion. What typ
e of drugs were they giving him?
“I'm not mad, Petal. You have a bike; ride the hell out of that shit.”
I was riding the hell out of something else, I couldn't help but think, my thighs reflexively clenching together.
“Speaking of riding,” he started, as though he were reading my mind, his eyebrows waggling in amusement. “How’s Luca?”
The mere mention of his name made me angry. I groaned and tilted my head back, scrunching my eyes tightly. “Can you not?”
“Can I not what?”
“Can you not go there? He’s the last thing I want to talk about,” I admitted.
In two point five seconds, all traces of his amusement had vanished and in its place was a great deal of concern. “Did something happen?”
Thankfully, an abrupt knock at the door halted our conversation in an instant, sparing me from having to dish out the deets. Gio’s eyes swung toward the sound and I turned my head in time to see a young nurse slipping into the room. She was a tiny little thing with a fresh face, kind gray eyes, and a warm smile. Her dirty blonde hair was tied into a messy bun at the top of her head and customary blue hospital scrubs completed her professional ensemble. A stethoscope hung around her neck and a clipboard was clutched to her chest as she strided into the room and erased the name on the dry erase board, replacing it with Callie.
“What are you doing here?” my brother asked cheerfully, immediately piquing my interest.
Callie chuckled softly as she made her way to the computer beside his bed. “It’s nice to see you too, Gio. I’m covering Cyndi’s shift. How are you feeling?”
“I’m good now,” he said with a grin.
Even from where I sat, I could see the rosy hue that colored her cheeks while she typed in her access code to the server. Pressing my lips together, my gaze flickered back and forth between the two. Gio looked at her like a smitten schoolboy, and Callie tried her best to remain unaffected by the intensity of his stare. This had absolutely nothing to do with me and my stomach was fluttering around frantically in barely contained excitement.
