“You’re late.” He didn’t look up, which gave me adequate time to drink him in. He was wearing low-slung black Nike sweats and no shirt. His golden tanned, muscled skin was in full view. A few tattoos swirled down his right arm, while the larger one, the Nicolasi crest, was drawn in the middle of his chest like the rest of the eldest kids.
I got mine on my back since my dad about had a heart attack when I told him I was going to have to lay topless in order to get it done.
I hadn’t meant it, but it was worth it to see his face. He pulled his gun on the tattoo artist. It was the best day.
“You gonna stare at me all day or get your ass up here and fight?” Junior bounced on his feet and gave me a glare that meant he really needed to get some aggression out.
“Fight.” I peeled my tank top off, then grabbed the tape he’d tossed and started wrapping my knuckles and wrists. I was quick, tearing the white tape with my teeth when I was done. My fingers still had hairline fractures, so I’d have to attempt not to make them worse. “Ready.”
He eyed me up and down. “I almost feel guilty that you’re fighting me in a pink sports bra, you know blood’s a bitch to get out, right?”
I smiled and bowed with my fist pressed into my palm. “I doubt I’ll even get a splatter.”
He turned my bow. “Let’s just say I’m apologizing in advance, and if I knock out a tooth, don’t go to Nixon, all right? He’ll have my balls even if it’s a fair fight.”
I smirked and bounced on my toes. “Cute, that you think you still have balls.”
He growled low in his throat. God, he was devastating when he looked at me like that. Those aqua eyes might as well hold me in a damn trance the way they locked on me with the precision of a knife.
He moved first.
I ducked and landed my roundhouse near his right ear. He batted my leg out of the way and nearly caught my ankle as I stumbled back. “That all you got, princess?”
I bared my teeth and charged, this time aiming for a kick to his shin while throwing a right hook.
My right hook didn’t hit, but my shin kick did. He stumbled a bit and then threw a right punch, then an elbow. His elbow landed right on my chin, splitting it wide open. Well, that was gonna need stitches.
“Whoops.” He winked.
I went for his feet again in a double leg takedown and managed to get him to stumble. Then I wrapped myself around him, taking him to the ground in an attempt to get a reversal.
He rolled me to my back and was able to get an elbow into my side before jumping to his feet and muttering, “Zuffa.”
Shit, an Italian term for fighting with no rules. I crooked my fingers at him and whispered, “Bring it.”
“Hey, Serena, you got a bit of blood, right here.” He motioned to his chin.
I landed a blow to his right cheek only to get back-handed with his hand. I stumbled and ducked as he tried to rush me. I knew that maneuver; he wanted to throw me to my back or side and try to get a rear naked choke, his favorite. We all had them, just like we all had weaknesses.
I moved away and landed another blow to his nose. But it was almost like he let me. I frowned as his massive chest heaved, then his eyes flashed as he ran at me, going low, knocking my legs out from under me and flipping me onto my back with a huge thud.
He straddled me, hooking his legs around me as he braced me against the ground, our faces inches away. “Tap out.”
“No.” I struggled beneath him.
“Tap the fuck out before you get hurt, princess.”
I knocked my head against his, making him lose his tight grip and then used my body weight to get him onto his stomach, I tried to get my arm beneath his chin, but he was already pulling me away like I weighed nothing at all when I knew I trained hard to be able to play with the big boys.
I cursed when he threw me onto my back a second time; the wind knocked out of me as I gasped for air and still refused to tap my fingers.
His fist came down next, but it was a soft hit, I knew it, he knew it, which just pissed me off. “You used to hit harder.”
“Son of a bitch, Serena, seriously.” Blood oozed from his right eyebrow. Fingers crossed, I broke his nose—again.
Both of us were panting as he pinned my arms above my head. I squirmed beneath him, trying to flip him with my legs, digging my heels in but meeting only muscle.
He let out a strangled groan when I thrust my hips up again in an attempt to gain some separation so I could get my hands between us.
He shuddered. “Stop playing dirty.”
“I never promised to play fair.” I shot him a flirty smile, and then I thrust my hips up against his already growing erection. He would typically pull away, it was my secret move, almost like he was afraid I was going to break his dick in half, except this time, he pinned me harder against the mat.
Panic seized my chest. He was supposed to pull away, not push me harder, or grow harder for that matter.
His eyes searched mine as blood dripped from his face onto my chest. “I can do this all day, princess.”
“Me.” I bucked my hips. “Too.”
He muffled a series of curses but held steady. He was so clearly not wearing a cup.
I squirmed beneath him. “Someone’s feeling brave.”
“Someone didn’t think you’d take a junk shot.”
“And I didn’t.”
“What the hell do you call this then?” He gritted his teeth. He was rock hard against my stomach, and then he pulled back just enough to press himself exactly where he wanted to go. “Fine, I’ll play.”
“Shit,” I muttered as he started to thrust against my spandex, between my thighs, where I was growing hotter and hotter.
I couldn’t tell if it was my sweat, his, or something else as he continued his slow, achingly hard thrusts between my thighs.
Eyes wild, he clenched his teeth. The last time we were like this was before he took my virginity, we’d been going at it like the horny teens we were, using our clothes as a flimsy sort of protection that was more annoying than helpful.
It brought me back.
I arched to meet his next thrust and must have lost my damn mind because this time he met me halfway, a groan of satisfaction erupted from his throat as he hurried his movements. I was stuck beneath him, like his own personal sex toy, I couldn’t move my hands, but I could move my body, and the torture was so severe I ended up spreading my legs wider, inviting him more.
“Fuck, Serena.” He was hot steel pounding into my core like we had no choice but to get off. I licked my lips as he hurried his hips forward surging so hard against me that the pleasure almost equaled the pain, he moved a leg between mine, and I hooked my right foot around his ass, bringing him closer.
I was losing my mind.
We both were.
We hated each other.
Nothing good would come of this.
Our dads could murder us.
But all I kept thinking about was the savage look in Junior’s eyes and the way his hips rocked against me. “I’m close.”
“Me too.” I squeezed my eyes shut and felt a slight tap to my face as he shook his head.
“Open, always open, on me,” he commanded.
I bit down on my lip, and then that same hand moved lower as he rubbed hard between my thighs. It was too intense; between his palm and his dick, I couldn’t take it anymore and fell apart against my enemy.
Somehow fully clothed.
He pulled away, then jerked himself out of his pants. I watched his hand move, up and down just once before he spilled on top of my stomach.
I would be insulted if I wasn’t so turned on.
And angry.
And confused.
So, I just lay there while he stumbled back and sat on his ass and hung his head in his hands.
We were like addicts, coming back for more, no matter how many times we knew the risk, no matter how many times we broke each other, it was something we always came back to, wasn’t it?
I sighed and slowly got up on my elbows. “I won.”
His head jerked up. “The hell you did!”
“We’re both bleeding, but—” I smirked. “—I did go first…”
He burst out laughing and laid back down against the mat. “You’re welcome.”
I smacked him in the leg and crawled over to the edge of the ring, grabbing my shirt and wiping my stomach off.
A hollowness spread in my chest when I realized what this meant; it meant we were back to not being friends. The line had been crossed, which meant we would retreat like we always did when we played with fire.
I hung my head.
The music suddenly stopped as my dad walked through the door in nothing but pajama bottoms and a scowl. “Are you sparring at midnight?”
“Well, it’s twelve-thirty now, sir,” Junior said from his spot on the mat, he had moved to a sitting position for obvious reasons.
My dad just rolled his eyes. “Don’t kill each other.”
“No promises!” I laughed, even though my entire body was in shock. Had we been going at it any longer, my dad would have seen it, would have seen what we did, would have known.
I almost puked when dad smiled at me and then went back upstairs.
With wooden legs, I jumped down from the ring and started peeling my tape off.
Junior did the same.
I was waiting for the words.
This can’t happen again.
Or this was a mistake.
Or I still hate you for as long as we both shall live.
Instead, he said, “Tomorrow, midnight.”
I turned over my shoulder. “You really think you can handle me two nights in a row?”
His eyes were molten as he rasped, “The question is, can you handle me?”
One eyebrow arched up. “Clearly I already did.”
“That wasn’t handling, that was cheating. Tomorrow, wear more clothes.”
I stuck out my tongue. “You were shirtless; you should talk.”
“I can see both of your hard nipples and have been able to for the last half hour, again, cheating.”
“You’re not a boob guy,” I pointed out.
And then squealed when he gripped my ass with his hands in a way that could leave bruises. “Things change.”
“Grab my ass again, and I’m knocking you out.” I pulled away.
Funny, we both knew it was an empty threat as we cleaned up and went upstairs to our rooms.
And like before, when I went into the shower and heard the familiar thunk of his door shutting, I tossed him the body wash and ignored the tension between us.
And when we both went our separate ways, I did something I hadn’t done since he broke my heart.
I left my door open.
And waited.
It was maybe five minutes before I saw him standing in the doorway, and then he was walking over to my bed, and I was pulling the covers back, and he was crawling in next to me.
A tear slid down my cheek as he pulled me against his chest, and like he knew I would be crying, a thumb wiped the tear away as he whispered, “For old times’ sake, but Serena, this can’t happen we can’t—”
“I know,” I snapped. “Just—sleep.”
“I’ve never been able to sleep when you’re in my arms, Serena.”
“So, what did you do the whole time?”
He hesitated and then, “Wait for you to fall asleep and wish that I wasn’t in love with my best friend…”
Chapter Twenty
Junior
I woke up that next morning with my enemy in my arms. How could something so wrong… so forbidden… feel so right? The voices in my head were quiet, the anxious stir in my soul to fight, to bleed, to do something, was gone. All I had was perfection in my arms. I reached out and twirled a piece of her blond hair between my fingers.
With a moan, she turned to face me.
Both our eyes were open.
My chest heaved like I’d just gone for a two-mile sprint then jumped back into bed with her.
Our gazes collided, locked.
“Serena!” Nixon’s voice was loud enough to scare me shitless as he knocked. “You up yet?”
I froze.
Serena gulped. “No, Dad, I’m not dressed, so no barging in.”
He chuckled. “No repeats of when you were sixteen and pulled a gun on me?”
I shot her a questioning smirk only to have her smack me in the chest. I grabbed her hand when she did it and held on tight even though I promised her that this was it for us, that this couldn’t happen again, already I was going back on that, willing to sell my soul just to touch her.
“What do you need, Daddy?” she asked, her eyes not leaving mine.
“The university called,” he said after a few seconds. “And I’m sure you know why they called., Junior wasn’t in his room, but I texted him. I’m calling a meeting right now, and I need you ready.”
My heart thudded against my chest.
“’Kay,” she finally said. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Yup.” Footsteps sounded as he walked away.
“Shit.” I fell back against the mattress and pulled her on top of me in the process. She didn’t protest, just straddled me as her hair fell in a soft curtain over her right shoulder. “He’s either going to kill me or kill me.”
Serena smirked and then dug her nails into my chest and scraped down until she got to my low-slung sweats. “Yup, pretty much.”
“Bitch.” I laughed. “You’re not even going to lie to me, are you?”
“Nope.” She hooked her fingers into my sweats and tugged them down.
I flinched. “What are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Just in case he shoots you in the dick, I’ll at least have this to focus on whenever I’m alone in my room with nothing but two hands…”
I jerked as she grabbed me with her right hand, torn between telling her to stop or to hurry.
“Serena,” I hissed as she bent over my cock. “We shouldn’t—”
I lost all train of thought as her tongue slid over me. “You were saying?”
“Nothing.” I gripped the sheets with my hands as she sucked me dry, her tongue swirling around my head like I was her favorite flavor. “So good, always so good with you, damn your mouth is hot…”
She pulled away. “Back to enemy number one after this, Junior, so you better enjoy It.”
“Doesn’t have to be like that.” But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie, we had no choice, and we had too many sins between us to have anything like a healthy relationship and what would that even look like? One day we’d be fine, the next day we’d draw blood, the day after that we’d get caught and killed.
My hips jerked as she went back to work. Her lips tightened around my dick while she looked up through a hooded gaze. That look was all mine, just like that mouth. She softly grazed her teeth up my length, then earned a smack in the ass from me before I grabbed her head and forced her deeper. My balls tightened almost painfully as I thrust against her tongue.
I clenched my teeth and tried to shove her head away, but instead, she sucked harder. I saw stars as release hit me, and when she pulled away, she fucking grabbed the sheet and dabbed her swollen lips then said. “Breakfast of champions.”
I groaned and moved to a sitting position. “Hate you for as long as we both shall live?”
She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Hate you for as long as we both shall live.”
“Good.” I dropped her hand then shoved her off the bed onto the floor, only to have her trip me when I tried to walk by.
I smiled the entire way to the guest room.
Well, if Nixon killed me, at least I would have one up on him.
Because minutes before my execution, I’d had his daughter’s mouth on my cock, and nothing could take that away from me.
Even my own death.
It was a giant F U to one of the most powerful bosses in the known world, and pa
rt of me liked that I had something to hold over him, something that would make him see rage because what better way to destroy his sanity than for him to find out, before I took my last breath, that every single time he thought he was keeping his daughter safe during all our family dinners…
I was going down on her for dessert.
I eyed my gun on the nightstand and sighed. I was dressed in minutes, wearing my Eagle Elite uniform of black slacks, white button-down shirt, and black jacket with our insignia on it.
People thought it was weird that a university had uniforms. They didn’t realize that it was like wearing a badge that said “property of the mafia.” The uniform was how we protected the students.
I sighed; it sure as hell wasn’t going to protect me now, was it?
I shoved my gun in the back of my trousers and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and attempt to do something with my hair.
I stared at myself in the mirror; I looked like I just got off.
My eyes were clear like I’d just taken a hit of something.
Serena’s mouth.
I ran my hands through my golden-brown and called it good when Serena joined me and shoved me to the side with her hip.
“Could your skirt get any shorter?” I wondered out loud.
She had on thigh-high tights that made me want to bend her over the sink, spank her ass, then say something stupid like, my office, detention, wait with thighs wide open.
“Probably.” Her mask was back in place, meaning she was wearing makeup, probably to cover up the split in her chin that I’d put there. I wondered if it made me a horrible person that I liked that she was wearing something on her face I had caused.
And not in the way that I got off on hitting her. I got off on the fact that she fucking hit me back.
Already I was having trouble controlling my arousal around her, and it wasn’t helping that she was bending close to the mirror as she put on purple lipstick that by all means should look like she was dressing up for Halloween but instead showed me just how luscious those lips were, and how good they felt when they sucked me dry.
“Better stop staring.” She finished and then rubbed her lips together and stared at me in the mirror. “The last thing you need is to confront my dad, point down, and go damn it even after I got the best blowjob of my life by your daughter, I still can’t keep my shit together.”
Ruthless Princess Page 15
