“I need more than just luck,” she admitted. “Like . . . like . . .” There was a pause as an idea formed in her head. “Like a makeover.”
CHAPTER 33
BIANCA
I had just finished glamouring up Emma when we heard a disturbance at the front door. The fire, the explosion, the absence of our men had always been at the back of our mind as we waited for word, but giving Emma a makeover was a welcoming distraction from the worry.
“Do you think that’s them?” she asked with equal parts excitement and nerves.
I fluffed a curl on the back of her head. “God, I hope so.”
I pulled open the door and nearly crashed into Roman’s mom. She was wearing a fluffy white robe, and her hair was in curlers, relief etched on her face indicating she was more worried than she was letting on. “The boys are here.”
It was an announcement that lifted a weight in the air I hadn’t realized was suffocating me. To finally see Royal after what felt like a whole lifetime of wondering made my pulse quicken. I followed behind the ladies, letting them lead the way while I cowardly slinked back a few steps. I was nervous. Was that weird? To be nervous to see the man you are married to? Or maybe it was the sudden feelings of attachment that had my stomach balling up.
When we were all downstairs and turned the corner to the front door, the girls in front of me came to a sudden stop. Nearly running into them, I used Emma’s shoulder to steady myself before peering over her shoulder and swallowing hard.
“It’s not that bad,” Shaw offered with a shrug, his shabby soot-covered hair falling in front of his eyes. “No one died.”
“Thank the heavens for that!” Dot exclaimed before crowding the men.
All men, Royal included shied away from the woman, trying to avoid the slobbery thumb she had aimed at their faces. Roman, finally having had enough, pushed her back gently. “Mom, we are going to shower now. Put your thumb away.”
“I can’t help but see the boys you once were instead of the men that stand in front of me.” Her eyes were misting and big.
“Mom. Go to bed. We can handle ourselves. This isn’t the first time we’ve had a few cuts or scrapes.”
Her eyes fell to Shaw, knowing damn well he had a bit more than a scrape. She pointed her fingers and waved it in the three men’s faces. “Fine. But in the morning, we are going to talk about this.”
The boys all gave her a kiss on the cheek, then physically turned her around and nudged her in the direction she needed to go. From what I understood, she didn’t always stay in the main house, but today must have been an exception. Most likely left there to keep Emma and I company as the boys went out to do their thing. And boy, did they do their thing.
With Dot out of sight, all the men breathed a sigh of relief. Roman rubbed his face, “She’s getting worse in her old age.”
Emma zoomed in on them. “Ever thought that maybe you’re getting worse in yours and essentially giving that woman a heart attack daily?”
Shaw grinned, the boyish look making him seem years younger. “She has a strong stalk. Besides, a little worry is good for the woman.”
Emma blinked. “Don’t even get me started on you. Come here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked down like he was ashamed, but I could see right through the act. The fact that she was reprimanding him and calling him to stand in front of her made him elated.
She grabbed his arm roughly, disregarding the bandage covering his forearm and examined it. “What happened?”
“It’s just a little burn, Emma.” He tried to pull away, but the timid girl suddenly grew in height and bravery.
“A little burn? Are you kidding me? You could have been killed.” She reached for Roman, noting little nicks on him as well. Placing her hands on his cheek, she continued. “Is whatever this dispute about worth this? Possible death? What is so important that you are willing to risk your life and that of everyone around you?”
Roman’s eyes closed at the touch, and I could visibly see the battle that plagued him inside. When his eyes opened, they focused only on Emma. “You. He wants you, Emma.”
She gasped, dropping her hands to cover her own mouth from the shock of his words. Shaw swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter. He will never touch you.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and If it hadn’t been for Royal’s fingers intertwining with my own, I would have gone to her. Wrapped her in a hug and assured her that all would be okay. Royal leaned in and whispered, “Leave them. They will be fine,” before he tugged on my hand, pulling me toward the stairs.
CHAPTER 34
ROYAL
The door clicking behind us was a burst in the silence that was smothering us. Bianca turned on her heels, her bare feet completely enveloped in the plush rug. “You could have let me know you were alright!”
I bit my lip, trying to fight a smile. “You missed me.”
“Absolutely not.” She glared at me, the fire in her eyes already having my cock stiffen.
“You worried,” I pointed out.
The fire blazed brighter. “Of course, I worried! You didn’t have the decency to call and let me know you were alive!”
“I’m fine.” I shrugged out of my soiled jacket and tossed it on a chair.
She spread her arms out in front of her. “Well, obviously, I can see that. But a simple text would have been appreciated.”
I took a step closer to her. She took a step back. “Amore, stop. No need to be sulky.”
“Pardon me?” Ah, maybe calling her sulky was the wrong thing to do?
“You’re pretty,” I offered.
Her teeth pulled at her lower lip before releasing it., the corner coming up a bit. “Do you tell all the girls that?”
“There are no other girls, only you,” I admitted, and this time when I took a step toward her, she didn’t back up.
“You’re such a sweet talker, Russo.” She licked her lips, and I followed the tip of her little pink tongue with my eyes.
“I’m honest.”
“You’re impossible.” Her breath caught as my fingers touched her lace encrusted hip.
I leaned in, burying my face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent of pure perfection. “Would you want it any other way?”
I pulled back, my fingers wrapping around her chin, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes fluttered before locking with mine. “I don’t think I would.”
“That’s my girl.” I didn’t get a chance to say more, her lips crashed into mine, her hand coming up to hold my head in place. The kiss was searing, a scorching battle of teeth and tongues, lips, and pants.
Her lips left mine long enough for her to gasp, “Don’t ever do that again.”
“What?” My lips pulled back, then kissed down her cheeks to her neck.
Her head fell back to allow my lips more room. “Don’t ever make me worry if you’re alive or dead.”
I bit down. Hard. The assault caused her to jump. “If I died?”
I asked the question, almost afraid to know the answer. I knew what we had wasn’t exactly love, but I had lust for her. I wanted Bianca so bad that the desire I felt when I looked at her consumed me and threatened to make me combust.
Her hands found my hair again, pulling hard enough that it forced me to look at her. “I never want you dead. Even on the worst of days, Royal. You have to know that.”
Deep down, I did know that, but hearing her verbalize it—well, let’s just say it was a whole level of weight off my shoulders that I didn’t know was slowing me down. Without realizing I moved, my body slammed into hers, forcing her backward until her ass hit the dresser behind her, and she was pinned tightly against my hips. I couldn’t stop my lips from descending on hers if I tried, and honestly, I didn’t fucking want to. Not when she tasted this damn good and her need for me—or was it want?—rivaled my own desires.
Her legs wrapped around my hip as I lifted her up to sit on top of the dresser, my lips refusing to leave hers. She tasted sweet
, like sugar cookies and heaven. Home, she tasted like home, and I’d never in my life consumed something of such bliss.
I rocked my hip forward, shamelessly grinding my cock into her center, catching her moans and giving her back my own. My palm skimmed upward, sliding under the green lace of her dress, bringing the material up to her hip, before fisting it in my palms and dragging it upward. She raised her arms and moved back just long enough that I could pull the material over her head. Her lips were on me again as her fingers worked frantically at the buttons of my shirt.
When she reached the last button, her palms buried underneath the material, pushing it off my shoulder until it hit the floor. Her fingers found my hips, her perfectly painted nails digging into my skin as she forced me to stop my movements. She pulled away from our kiss, holding still only a few moments before her fingers trailed a slow path from my hips to my belt buckle.
Covering her tiny hands with my own, I stopped her. “Be sure this is what you want, Bianca.”
Her eyes fluttered a moment as she licked her lips. “I think—I think this is what I need.”
Need. Want. There was not a fucking difference in my mind when the woman of my dreams, my own fucking wife, sat in front of me in the purest of white satin, inches away from touching my throbbing cock.
I released her hand and leaned forward, bracing my palms on each side of her spread thighs, allowing her free roam of my body to touch as she pleased. And I begged, mentally, maybe verbally, I couldn’t be sure at that point, for her to just fucking touch me. Anywhere. Everywhere. Now.
Slowly, painfully so, she pulled at the leather of my belt buckle, releasing it before her fingers found the button. Her fingers gently fluttered over the bare skin above my slacks, tracing the descending line of muscles that all lead to the exact same spot.
She swallowed hard. “I’ve wanted to run my fingers over this spot since the moment I first saw you without a shirt.”
I bit my lower lip, hard. Then reminded myself that I needed to take a few deep breaths because with her hands so close, but not physically touching my cock, I was feeling weak. I took in a sharp breath before asking, “Then why didn’t you?”
“Just because I wanted to do something doesn’t mean it’s the best thing to do.” She flicked the button open and slowly trailed her fingertip down the closed zipper.
“And now?” Was that my voice? Barely a harsh whisper.
“Now . . .” She shrugged, “Probably still not the best thing, but . . .”
She trailed off, her palm flattening over my cock, separated by the thin material of my pants. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes tightly, not sure if I would survive her touch if she actually broke through the barriers and touched my bare skin. “But . . . ?”
“But, what’s the point in resisting if everything we do will always bring us here?” she paused, glanced down at her palm slowly rubbing circles up my length, “with you in the palm of my hand?”
I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. I caught Bianca’s wrist, stilling her motion, holding her in place until she looked at me. “Clever girl, you should already know the truth by now.”
Her head tilted slightly to the side. “What?”
I brought my free hand up to her cheek, caressing it with the back of my knuckles, leaving a trail of black soot behind. “Don’t you know, you’ve always had me in the palm of your hands?”
I released her wrist, practically grinding my erection into her palm, begging for her touch. Her lips turned up in a crooked smile, her fingers gentle right before she slowly pulled the zipper down. Her fingers hooked into my pants, pushing them down past my hips to the floor.
Without even breaking her gaze from my own, she quirked a brow. “Commando?”
She didn’t want a response—hell, I couldn’t verbalize one anyway. Not when her fingers wrapped around the base of my cock and squeezed. Air rushed from my lungs, and I was frozen in place, unable to inhale. She slid her palm upward, stopping long enough to swirl her index finger in the precum that beaded at the tip before sliding her palm downward again, only to repeat the motion once, twice, three times. Enough times that each pass over the sensitive crown made me see stars and brought me closer to heaven.
Or was it hell? It definitely had to be hell because there was no way I could be this close to exploding and not be physically inside of her. I let her squeeze my cock one more time, blurring my vision, and stealing my thoughts before I grabbed her wrist, halting her movement. Panting, I leaned toward her, caging my hands on each side of her as I brought my lips to the curve of her neck.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to go,” I whispered against her neck before I moved lower, leaving a trail of kisses down to her breasts, where I used my teeth to lower her bra.
“How is it supposed to go?” she asked, her voice shaking.
I locked my teeth onto her nipples, startling a yelp from her before I soothed it with my tongue and sucked it gently. Her hands came to my hair, her fingers threaded into the strands, roughly offering a bit of pain I relished.
“I’ve thought a lot about this,” I confessed, and I felt her body shake with laughter.
“I bet you have.” She tugged my hair, directing me to the other breast I hadn’t given attention to.
I bit the skin to stop her laughter. “Do you think you’re funny, Amore?”
Her breath caught for a second. “A little.”
“I don’t find anything funny about what I want to do to you.” I grabbed her hips, pulling them hard against me and off the dresser she was sitting on. When her feet touched the floor, I kissed her again, a quick rough kiss before turning her around to look in the mirror.
Pushing her hair over to one shoulder, my lips found her neck again, my teeth grazing the skin along the curve. “This. This is how I’ve always pictured it.”
She didn’t speak; she just gave a slight nod as her eyes watched my movement in the mirror. I pulled her against me, trapping her in place with one arm across her chest, the other snaking down her stomach toward her white satin panties. “Did you wear these for me?”
She swallowed then nodded, my every move being absorbed through the reflection in front of us. My fingers bypassed the silky material, the trail of black soot left by their travels a stark contrast against her milky skin.
“Bare?” I nibbled a trail up her ear as my index finger parted her folds, dipping into her wetness and dragging it forward. “I know that has to be just for me,” I whispered right before biting her ear.
She gasped, an echoing sound in the otherwise silent room, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the sting of the bite or my fingers on her clit, but I suspected I would quickly find out. I pressed my finger down again, and another gasp escaped.
“I love how wet you are. Is this from touching my cock, Bianca?” When she didn’t answer, my hand across her chest moved to a nipple and pinched.
Her body pitched forward with a moan, her hands gripping the edge of the dresser like it was the only thing keeping her up. I pinched again while rubbing a slow circle over her mound. “You’re going to have to keep it quiet, we are guests after all. It’s not polite to keep the hosts awake all night.”
She glared at me through the mirror. A glare that was interrupted when her mouth turned into an O with the littlest flick of my finger. Rubbing my cock against her satin clad ass, I leaned into her ear, letting her hear the low groan the contact caused as my finger worked her clit, and her body moved against me.
She was perfect. Mine. The only thing greater than having her moaning and weak at my touch was having my cock sheathed by her lithe body. I moved my hand up, removing the contact from her long enough to tear at the satin, letting it fall to the floor. Holding her tightly against my body, I pushed her legs wide open.
Rubbing my cock against her bare skin, I pulled her head back by her hair, forcing her to turn around and look at me. Her green eyes met mine, her lips parted as she breathed heavily. “I’ve waited week
s to fuck you, Bianca. There is nothing that’s going to hold me back now.”
As if the action itself was an answer, she pushed her hips back against me. Taking that as her okay, I pushed her down, bending her over the dresser so that her hands held onto the edge, and her ass was in the air, her pussy open for me. I ran my finger down the slit. She was so fucking wet, I could come just from touching her, only from wanting her.
Instead, I breathed deep, trying to steady my heartbeat enough to make this fucking last longer than five damn seconds. When I was sure my nerves were calm, I threaded my fingers into Bianca’s hair, wrapping the strands around my fist and pulling up, forcing her eyes to look at the mirror as I pushed into her.
I should have been gentler; deep down, I knew this, but when you marry the man, you get the damn monster, and there was nothing in me that cared enough to go slow. No, I took her in one hard thrust, forcing her body to accept me, to take all of me, as her body lurched forward, her hair pulling tightly against my grip.
With my free hand, I gripped her hip and pulled out slowly before slamming my hips back into her. Her body forced the dresser to knock against the wall, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not with the girl I’d been lusting after for weeks under my body, at my mercy, willing to do whatever it took to be mine. Fuck, she had always been mine. Her body was fucking made for me, and the way her walls clenched around my cock with each push in and drag out only proved it to be so. She wanted me. She craved me. Now, she was getting all of me.
I placed my palm on her stomach, pulling her up to stand, holding her in place as I thrust. Her head thrashed around on my shoulder, her eyes wild, and I loved every second of seeing her this way. I loved knowing it was me who was making her crazy. It was my cock that brought those little sounds to her lips.
“I can’t,” she whimpered, her chest heaving.
She could. She would. I would make damn sure of that. My hips moved faster against her, my thrusts became harder, her body taking me and accepting my ownership. “Open your eyes. I want you to watch as I fuck you. Look down, Bianca. Look at where my cock is splitting you open.”
Resisting Royal (The Repayment Series) Page 17
