My eyes find Gretchen again, hating that I keep making all the wrong moves. But I can’t find any of the right answers without her.
I nod to Dante.
“Thanks. Text him, make sure he takes all the precautions.”
“Already handled,” Dante replies.
Dom shakes his head again and says to Dante, “Will you please tell him to stop being such a pussy and just talk to the woman.” I look between them, seeing where this is headed.
“Luca, he’s right. Plus, that guy’s such a dick. You got dumped for a dick.” He chuckles, and I throw my drink back, unamused.
I put the empty glass on the table that’s been decorated for a feast.
“She didn’t dump me for that jackass. She left me because she thinks my wife blew me in a sex club.”
A grin grows on his face at how fucking ridiculous it all is. Jesus, I’ve gotten myself into a monumental mess.
Dante doesn’t hold back his laughter and reaches out to pat my face.
“You really are an asshole.”
I smack his hand away, and Dom pats my shoulder, nodding in agreement.
“I hate you both,” I say flatly.
Dom waggles his eyebrows. “You love us, ya dick.”
“Yeah, I do.” I let out a breath. “And I love her.”
I watch Gretchen laugh at something with Drew. “More than my fucking life. And I don’t know how long I can sit here and watch her next to Mikey.” I crack my neck, hoping to relieve the frustration. “I can’t watch him put his fucking paws all over her. This is torture.”
Dante takes me by the shoulder and turns us so we are looking right at Gretchen and Mikey.
“No, è karma. Dovrai vederlo come quando Gretchen ha visto quello che hai fatto. Ma ora, sai che la scopera ‘alla fine della ote. Mikey sta per sostituirti.” Nah, it’s karma. You gotta watch like she did. But now you know he’s gonna fuck her at the end of the night. He’s gonna fucking replace you.
Dante’s words are dark and feed my worry that it’s all true. They travel to the piece of me that I’m so good at keeping quiet until needed.
“Do you want him dead?” I ask coldly, my anger gathering.
Dom speaks in his place.
“No. But Luca, you need to be reminded of who you are and that you feel. Get your fucking head in the game—losing her means losing yourself.”
He’s never been more on the money. I feel like I’ve lost myself, because I rolled over and accepted the idea that I’d lost her.
My brothers are twisted, but it was exactly the reminder I needed. I’ve been wallowing, blaming her for mistrusting me, hating her for her unwillingness to love me blindly. But seeing her like this, with him, I’m stewing in my assumptions just like she did. I never gave her a reason to trust me because I withheld the truth. I need to bring her in—all fucking in.
I cross my arms over my chest and look over at my brothers smugly.
“Okay. I got it. Enough now.”
Drew peeks her head outside.
“Boys, dinner.”
She smiles as she opens the door and the rest of the party begins to file outside, remarking at how beautifully decorated the room is.
But I go in the opposite direction, swiping my glass from the table and locking eyes with Gretchen. I tilt my head toward the bar inside, and she shakes hers at me. My jaw tenses, and I change direction, heading directly to where she’s standing with Mikey.
“We need to talk,” I huff, stopping right in front of them.
“Excuse me, what’s going on?” Mikey says to me, but I’m speaking to Gretchen, so I don’t look at him.
Her eyes are full of worry, but she looks up at Mikey calmly.
“Godparent stuff. We need to go over our toast. I’ll be right back.”
She pats his chest gently to reassure him, and he grabs her hand and kisses it. I’m going to break his goddamn mouth for touching her. My hands fist at my sides, and now I look at him. I know what I’m feeling is all over my face; the minute his eyes meet mine, he swallows, losing some of his bravado. That’s right, Mikey. You fucked with the wrong guy.
I keep my eyes on him.
“I’m going to steal your girl now, Mikey.”
My voice is laced with insinuation, and I can see he doesn’t trust me. He shouldn’t.
“Just bring her back,” he laughs.
I respond with a shrug, reaching out and taking her hand right out of his. I turn around, pulling her behind me into the house. We walk toward the bar, and I glance behind me and see Blair running some distraction with Mikey. I always liked her.
“Where’s your wife?” Gretchen snarks.
“I sent her home,” I answer, pulling her into the butler’s pantry and closing the door behind us.
“What the fuck do you think you’re—”
Her words are immediately cut off by my lips covering hers. It’s hard and aggressive, filled with a tornado of emotion.
“Kiss me back,” I demand to her unmoving mouth, but she doesn’t.
I pull back and look at her. She can’t hide from me. She’s on fire, wanting this connection, needing it. Even still, she won’t accept me trying to bulldoze her. I know better, but it doesn’t stop me from trying.
“Kiss. Me. Back,” I growl.
She shakes her head, her eyes narrowed.
I step away from her and put both my hands on the counter in front of me. “Fuck,” I breathe out.
“I miss you. I’m so fucking lost without you. Tell me how I stop loving you, Angel. Tell me, because you managed to move on and forget me, but I can’t… It feels physically impossible.”
I look to her for an answer, no bulldozing, no agenda—just me. Instead of saying anything, she closes the distance between us, places her hands on my face, and pulls me down, sealing her lips to mine. I groan into her mouth from relief, twisting my body to face her, and kiss her like she should be kissed.
Our mouths are fused, tongues swirling over the other’s. My hands tangle into her soft hair, and she wraps her arms around my neck. We stumble back into the opposite counter, my lower back hitting the marble, and I spin her around so she’s against it.
My right hand pulls from her hair and drifts down her cheek, then to her neck, and sweeps across her breasts. She lets out a small moan. Her body is so receptive to my touch. What about Mikey’s touch?
The unwelcome reminder of my replacement breaks me from our little fantasy in action, and I jerk back.
“Did you let him touch you?” I can’t control the anger in my voice.
The haze in her eyes clears, and she narrows them.
“You don’t have any right to ask me that.”
She pulls her arms from my neck and glares at me. She’s right, I don’t.
“Okay,” I say, nodding.
“Okay?” She looks surprised, a hint of a smile on her lips.
“You’re right. I let you go—I lost that right. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to punish you for what I think you’ve done.”
My hand trails up her thigh, skimming her center, and her breath hitches. My fingers rub gently against the fabric that’s hiding her clit from me, and her hips push forward.
“What do you think I’ve done?” she rasps seductively.
Little minx—she’ll exploit my jealousy for her benefit. My angel needs a lesson.
“I think you let him touch you here.”
I reach my free hand up to grab her breast, feeling the hard nipple underneath and pinching it between my fingers. She bites her lip, enjoying the sensation.
She shakes her head.
“Nope.” I think I’m going to like this game.
I pull my fingers from the rubbing I’m doing against her clit and she whimpers. I lift them up and run my finger down her neck.
“I think he kissed you here—” I follow the path across her collarbone. “—and here.”
My eyes meet hers again.
“Uh-uh,” she says, licking her lips t
his time.
“I’m most afraid he’s touched you here.”
I stop my hand over her heart, and she doesn’t answer. We stand looking at each other, the silence stretching out.
She grabs my hand and pulls it down to her center.
“You forgot a spot.”
I know she’s lying; Mikey’s never touched her. She can’t handle the question because she’d have to admit she still loves me.
“Then you deserve a consequence, Angel,” I growl, playing along, baiting her for permission. How far is she willing to take this?
“Punish me, then.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
I’m not sure she even knows she said that aloud.
“Say it again,” I urge, palming her delicious cunt.
My chest is heaving from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, watching her body writhe under my control.
She grips my dress shirt and pulls me to her face.
“Punish the fuck out of me. Make me feel something, Luca.”
“With pleasure, Angel.”
I spin her around and tug at her skirt, pulling it up to expose her bare ass.
“Hold the counter,” I direct, and her hands fly into place.
I understand what she needs; I need it too.
It’ll only ever be me, no matter who touches her. I’m the only one she’ll ever crave.
“Spread your legs.” She obeys.
I run my hand over her ass cheeks, and her head falls back, her breath releasing with a satisfied whoosh. My thumb starts at the top of the crack of her ass and runs down until I get to the sensitive spot that makes her jump. I apply pressure and watch the way her back arches. She’s a beautifully dirty woman made just for me.
I smile, leaning in to kiss her shoulder, pushing my finger into her wet pussy and dragging her excitement up to her tight hole.
“What’s wrong, Angel? Did you think I was going to spank you? That’s for pleasure. Punishments aren’t for your enjoyment…they’re for mine. You’ll remember this every time you let that piece of shit touch what’s mine.”
I lean into her, my chest against her back, and the tip of my thumb penetrates her tight hole.
She hisses in a breath.
“Yes.” Her ass pushes back against the pressure. “More.”
Gretchen’s lost in her fantasy when my other hand smacks the counter in front of her, and her attention shoots to watch what I’m doing. I slide my hand out, and her gaze follows as I reach in front of her for a wine bottle stopper. It’s a black rubber cork with an ornate crystal handle on it. That’ll work nicely.
Her head twists back, shock plastered across it, to the smile on my face, and I slowly raise the stopper to my mouth and run my tongue over it, making sure the rubber is lubricated enough.
“Try and be quiet.”
I wink, and her head falls forward between her shoulders as I run the rubber cork down her back, stopping at her ass.
“Holy fuck,” she whispers as I bring it to her tight spot and replace my thumb with our new toy.
I twist it inside her, enjoying the moan that escapes from her lips.
“I said quiet. Try and listen, Angel. We wouldn’t want the whole party to hear.”
I keep my hand on my Macgyvered butt plug and kneel, reaching between her legs from behind and running my fingers through her slit to her entrance, and back up, rubbing her clit.
“What would Mikey think?”
I push two fingers inside of her, holding her in place from behind.
She pushes back against the pressure she’s feeling from her ass, and I start a punishing pace inside her pussy.
“Who’s Mikey?” she answers.
I smile.
“Can you feel how full you are, baby?” I say, watching her body sway with the rhythm.
“Oh fuck. Luca, it feels so good. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
Her knuckles go white with the force of her grip on the counter as I fuck her raw.
I rise, pumping my fingers inside her, and kick her legs out wider and push her body forward with my head, pounding my fingers inside of her faster, feeling her pussy start to tighten.
Her moans grow louder, and she slaps a hand over her mouth to stop the noise. Her other arm gives out and she falls forward onto her elbow, screams echoing into her hand.
But I don’t stop. I twist the plug and push it in and out, ever so slightly. I’m working her over, and she fucking loves it.
I feel it, her climax building. Her soft walls tighten, and her fingernails scrape against the marble surface. She sucks in tiny breaths as her orgasm begins to reach its peak. And then I pull my fingers from her, along with the plug, and take a step back, my breathing heavy and my cock rock hard.
Gretchen sucks in an audible intake of air at the loss.
“What the fuck!”
“Like I said—” I open the trash and throw the bottle stopper in. “—this was for my enjoyment, not yours. Now you can sit across from me at dinner and wish I was eating you and not my food. Right next to that cocksucker.”
She spins around with animosity and slaps my face.
“You’re an asshole. You did this to make us even.” I’m still the bad guy to her.
I rub the sting on my jaw and smile.
“I’ve never been unfaithful to you, despite what you think.”
My words are just as angry as her, but I reach out for her, wanting to fuck her for her stubbornness.
Gretchen smacks at my hands.
“I can’t do this…” She tugs at her skirt, smoothing it down. “Look at what we’ve become. I just got hate fucked in the pantry of my best friend’s home, with my fucking boyfriend outside.”
Her hand rubs down the sides of her face.
I grab her chin and force her eyes to mine.
“Are you blaming me? Because you asked for it, loud and proud, baby. And it definitely wasn’t hateful,” I reply unapologetically.
She laughs angrily, tugging her chin from my hands.
“Luca, I’m sure you could talk me right off a bridge and I wouldn’t even realize that it wasn’t my idea until I hit the ground.” Fuck this.
“If that’ll help you sleep next to him tonight.” I shrug, my irritation building. “But you remember something, baby: there will always only be me. You’re the only real vow I’ve ever taken. And everything is going to fall apart, burn to the fucking ground, until we fix us because, Angel”—I place my hand on her chest—“this belongs to me. I’m the only man that gets to hear it beat. When you realize that, I’ll be waiting.”
I pull the pantry door open and stroll out back to the table, right back to Mikey’s curious eyes.
I take my seat across from him and lean back causally.
“She was great, thanks,” I say to him but let my eyes roam over her body as she rejoins him. Let the games begin.
I FEEL SHELL-SHOCKED. I’M PRESENT, but my mind is a million miles away. I just let him finger fuck me in the pantry, and now I’m sitting next to Michael, the man I’m dating, as if nothing happened, wildly turned on and frustrated. Michael’s hand reaches over to touch mine, and I jump.
“Everything okay? You look flustered.” I just got punish fucked in the pantry, but I’m good.
“I’m okay. Just thirsty.”
I point to the bottle of chardonnay on the table.
“Would you mind?”
His eyes are filled with suspicion.
Michael picks up my glass of water and hands it to me.
“Maybe this instead.”
His expression is unwavering. I want to laugh in his face. Oh, wrong girl, buddy.
“Excuse me?” I question. “I wasn’t asking permission. I apologize for the confusion, but I’ll take that bottle now.”
My voice is sweet, but my meaning is clear.
“Angel.”
My nickname from that mouth calls my attention instantly.
I look to see Luca handing me a glass with a sizeable pour
of white wine. He’s such an asshole. He’s taking a jab, and I’ll let him because this lesson is an important one for Michael to learn. Never tell a woman what she needs. We know; we’re good.
“Thank you.”
I smile, taking the glass and looking to Michael as I take a sip. I shouldn’t be so antagonistic, but I’m not in the mood for Luca or Michael to act like dicks. The liquid slides down my throat, and my tongue swipes across my lip as I pull the glass from my mouth.
A tartness on my taste buds makes my eyes nearly pop out of my head. Holy shit. That’s me. I just tasted myself… That motherfucker.
My angry glare zeroes in on Luca’s arrogant fucking smirk.
He brings the fingers that were inside of me, to his mouth, and licks the tips as if he has food on them.
“The sauce on the pasta is delicious.”
He’s not speaking to any one person in particular, but I know he’s speaking to me, and I begin to plot ways to hide his body.
“Yeah, new chef thought it up. I think it’s a bit salty,” Dom answers, and Luca laughs.
I wipe the glass, and Michael looks at me.
“Lipstick,” I answer his questioning face.
He turns again to speak to Blair, and I take a bite of my food, unwilling to look at Luca again.
“So, how’d you meet our Gretchen? Tell us all about it, Mikey,” Luca asks from across the table, and I drop my fork, the clanging sound underscoring my irritation.
“His name is Michael, not Mikey,” I snap, and Luca feigns apology.
Michael puts his arm over my back and pulls me toward him, kissing my forehead.
“He’s just being friendly, babe. Nicknames are just a fun way guys mess with each other. Especially guys raised on the streets of Chicago. Right, Luke?”
Oh shit, Mikey. I can’t even look at Luca’s face because I can only imagine.
I chance a glance, and Luca seems amused. Figures—he likes a good fight.
“How’d you meet?” Luca prods, motioning with his fork as he eats.
“Oh, I love these stories,” Lyla chimes in, and suddenly, all eyes are on us.
Luca sits back pleased, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of a setup.
Michael pulls me closer into him, and I’m embarrassed; it feels wrong, and I hate that Luca will be able to pick up on what I’m feeling.
Worship (Sinful Series Book 2) Page 16
