Fire with Fire (New York Syndicate Book 1)

by Michelle St. James

  He stopped at the next door and they entered a large room with a steeply pitched cathedral ceiling and an iron canopy bed.

  “There’s a private bath with towels and everything you should need,” he said. He gestured to a set of French doors. “Feel free to sleep with the balcony door open. Ocean air is good for the soul. I’ll leave you a key so you can come and go. There’s a car in the garage. You can use it if you need to go into town, although I recommend laying low for the time being just in case.”

  She nodded, drew in a breath. “I can’t… I can’t thank you enough for this.”

  He hesitated and stepped toward her almost reluctantly, lifted a hand to her face. She was surprised by the tenderness in his fingertip as it touched her lip near where Primo’s ring had cut her.

  “You should never let anyone hurt you, Aria.” His voice was low and rough, the heat from his fingertip sinking into her lip, through her body, pooling between her legs. She had the strange desire to take his finger in her mouth, to suck on it while she looked into his eyes. “You should only be cherished. Remember that.”

  He dropped his hand and turned away, disappeared into the hall.

  For a long moment she could only stare after him, her body aching in places she’d forgotten she had. Finally, she forced herself to move.

  She explored the room, discovered clean socks and T-shirts (all men’s) in the dresser, a stack of extra blankets and pillows in an armoire against one wall. She pulled her phone charger from her purse, glad she’d thought to grab it on her way out of the apartment, and set it to charge while she walked into the adjoining bathroom.

  Like everything that belonged to Damian it was both luxurious and intimate. The walls were tiled with old-fashioned black and white subway tile, and a massive claw foot tub sat against one wall, its fixtures cast in deep bronze. There were plentiful towels, even a new toothbrush, toothpaste, toiletries.

  She ran the water and stripped off her clothes, then stepped into the tub.

  She soaked for a long while feeling oddly detached from the real world. She’d disabled the tracking feature on her phone long ago. Primo was far away, had no idea where she was or how to find her. She had no idea what time it was or how long she stayed in the tub. Had no idea what tomorrow or the next day would bring.

  The water was cooling when she stepped out of the tub. She used one of the thick white towels to dry off, then padded barefoot to the dresser where she chose one of the large men’s T-shirts. She caught a whiff of Damian as she slipped it over her body, saw a flash of his eyes as he’d looked at her when he’d touched her lip, felt the heat that had traveled between their bodies.

  After years of feeling numb, her skin was alive with the need to be touched. She could imagine his big hands on her hips, his mouth closing over hers.

  She turned away from the dresser quickly and walked to the bed. She checked her phone, deleted the twelve messages from Primo without listening to them, and crawled between the cool, crisp sheets.

  She expected sleep to come quickly. She was mentally and physically exhausted. But her thoughts were racing with everything that had happened, the image of Primo when he’d hit her — rage-filled, out of control — looming in her mind. He would be frantic with worry, but his concern would quickly turn to fury when he couldn’t reach her.

  The longer she stayed away, the worse it would be.

  She turned over, fluffing the pillow under her head and kicking off the covers. She wondered if Damian was awake on the other side of the wall. If he was laying in bed replaying the events of the evening.

  Had she imagined the chemistry between them? She didn’t think so. She’d seen it in his eyes. Had felt in the way he touched her, the way he lingered. Like he hadn’t wanted to leave.

  He was only a few feet away. She could be to him in a couple minutes.

  Would he welcome her into his bed?

  She turned over again, trying to push the thought from her mind. She was in a perilous place. A place where the rest of the world felt so far away as to be irrelevant even as her mind told her it wasn’t true.

  Primo was still out there. The war between him and Damian had only just begun.

  She was already a casualty of it, adrift in the waters with what was sure to be even more collateral damage, like the detritus of a shipwreck lost at sea. Primo had made it clear she was utterly insignificant.

  So what did it matter?

  She just wanted to be close to someone. Feeling Damian’s hand on her face had made her realize how long it had been since someone had touched her. Really touched her. She’d been running on nothing but resolve with no end in sight for as long as she could remember.

  Was it so wrong to want to feel human again? To want to be seen?

  She threw her legs over the side of the bed, let her mind be calmed by the rhythm of the waves racing onto the beach below. Her mind was clear when she crossed the room and stepped out into the hall.

  18

  Damian lay naked in bed, turning over everything that had happened in his mind. Any other time he would have been focused on the operation that was about to commence, on the plans that had been carefully put into place and that would have to be just as carefully executed to minimize damage to his organization.

  But all he could think about was her.

  He should have gone back to the city as soon as he’d gotten her settled. In fact, he shouldn’t have invited her to the Long Island house at all. It was more than a breach of protocol; it was a fucking catastrophe in the making.

  And yet there had been nothing left to do when he’d seen the cut on her lip. He wanted to believe it was due to his broken psyche, his inclination to help every damsel in distress that was put in his path.

  He knew it was a lie.

  It was Aria. There was something about her, something about the combination of strength and vulnerability that moved him. She didn’t want to be a victim, didn’t want his pity, but somehow that made him want to protect her even more.

  Now he was in a hell of his own making, Aria Fiore on the other side of the wall, probably sprawled out on the bed, the moonlight streaming in through the balcony doors. He’d heard her running a bath, had tried to force from his mind the image of her stepping naked into the water, sinking into the tub, the water lapping against her nipples as she settled back with a sigh.

  His cock had been hard ever since. He turned over, punched the pillow under his head. He was debating getting up, dressing, heading back to the city now before he could do something he would regret, when the door to the room eased open.

  He was reaching for his gun when he saw her silhouette in the doorway. He remained perfectly still, his eyes on hers across the darkened room. A long moment passed before she stepped into the room, and he moved back on the bed, making room for her as she approached.

  He thought she would lay down with her back to him. Maybe she just wanted to be held.

  Instead she crawled into bed facing him, stretched her body out against his. He stifled a moan as her softness molded itself to him, filling every hard crevice of his body.

  She reached up, touched his face, slid her arm around his neck as she hooked one leg over his hip, the heat of her center like a firebox against his swollen cock. Her face was close, so close. He could smell the mint on her breath when she whispered against his lips.

  “Let’s not talk about it, Damian.”

  He groaned, flipped her under him, captured her mouth with his. Then there were no more barriers between them. There was just his mouth plundering hers, exploring every shadowed corner as her tongue met him thrust for thrust. She swept his mouth, no hesitancy or uncertainty in her movements, leaving no doubt that she had no second thoughts about what they were doing.

  Not yet anyway.

  He pushed the thought aside and let his hands roam her body, down her elegant neck and across her prominent collarbone. He cupped one of her breasts, plump and full in his hand, thumbed the nipple with his finger until s
he moaned into his mouth.

  Her leg was still hooked around his hip, his cock nestled into the heat of her pussy, barely tempered by the thin strip of fabric that was her underwear. He let his hand travel down to her waist, over the voluptuous curve of her ass, along the thigh wrapped around him.

  Her skin was like satin, and he allowed his hands to roam back the way they had come until he was cupping her face, his lips and fingers vying for position on her lips.

  “Damian…”

  Her voice was a gasp in the dark that fanned the flames of his desire. He didn’t know what would happen to them after tonight, but right now she knew she was in his arms, knew he was the one stoking the fire in her body.

  It was the only thing that mattered to him.

  He kissed his way down her neck, lingering over the collarbone that had been taunting him since he first met her, dipping his tongue into the well there, tasting the salt on her skin.

  She was already writhing under him when he moved to her chest, teased her erect nipples through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. He reached for the hem of it and pulled, grateful for the lift of her body as she helped him get it off. Then she was naked under him except for the lace of her panties. He wanted those gone, too, but the last thing he needed was more temptation. He was already fighting the urge to drive into her, forcing himself to take his time. This might be the only opportunity he had to explore her body.

  He was going to make it count.

  Lowering his head to her breast, he inhaled the scent of her. It moved through his bloodstream like a wildfire, and his cock, already painfully hard, throbbed between his legs. Her hands moved along his back as he lapped at one of her nipples with his tongue, teasing the pale pink bud before sucking it into his mouth.

  She moaned and her hips came up off the bed, her hands gripping the sheets at her side as he worked one nipple with his mouth, the other with his free hand, rolling it gently between his fingers.

  She slid a hand between their bodies and closed her palm around his cock. He growled as he felt the heat of it encircle him. He was dangerously close to losing control.

  And he was nowhere near done with her yet.

  He grabbed both her wrists in one hand, lifted her arms over her head, stretched his body out on hers until his cock was nestled in the sweet folds of her pussy.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  He kissed her sternum, traveled down to her belly button, nipped at the soft flesh of her stomach as he spread her thighs with his hands. She was already wet for him, her desire glistening on the folds of her sex like morning dew on the petals of a rose.

  “My god, you’re beautiful,” he said, lowering his mouth to her inner thigh.

  He kissed the tender skin there, then bit it gently, encouraged by her soft moans as he worked his way toward her center. When he reached it, he ran his tongue slowly all the way from her perineum to her clit.

  She gasped, spreading her legs wider for him as he nestled himself between her thighs.

  “That’s right,” he said. “Open for me, Aria.”

  He bent his head, closed his mouth around her clit, sucked for a few seconds before removing his mouth. He flicked his tongue against it, letting her feel the heat of it for a second before withdrawing until she was twisting in his hands.

  Her breath, fast and shallow, was a gasp into the room. He slid his fingers through the petals of her pussy, then pushed them into her as he clamped down on her clit, sucking the tiny seed as his fingers pushed through her swollen channel.

  She was moving with him now, her hips working against his mouth and fingers, climbing toward release.

  “No,” she gasped.

  He lifted his head. “No?”

  “I want you inside me,” she said. “Please.”

  “I’m going to be inside you, Aria. I’m going be so far inside you you’re not going to know where you end and I begin. But first you’re going to come for me.”

  He lowered his head between her thighs.

  19

  She was nowhere and everywhere all at once, her body floating in a kind of netherworld where there was nothing but Damian’s hands on her body, his mouth searing her skin like a brand. He was occupying every inch of her, taking up residence on all the secret places no one had ever seen.

  All the secret places she’d kept hidden.

  Moving with him was instinct, the rhythm of his mouth on her sex, his fingers inside her, working in time with the rotation of her hips, bringing her toward the inevitable apex even as her body clamored to be filled by his cock.

  She let it carry her like a strong wind, let her body be buoyed by the promise of an orgasm that was approaching with the speed and strength of a freight train. It rose in her like floodwaters she couldn’t hold back if she tried, his fingers plunging in and out of her as he sucked on her clit, drawing it into the heat of his mouth, against the friction of his tongue.

  There was a split second when she was suspended over the precipice, somewhere between the torture of near-release and the bliss of letting go. Then she spilled over the edge as everything exploded in a burst of light behind her eyelids, her body unfolding like a flower in the sun.

  He kept his mouth locked on her sex, his fingers still moving inside her as she shuddered around them. The spasms went on in wave after wave of pleasure, each one crashing over her head more strongly than the last until she was wrung dry of everything.

  Every ounce of fear and doubt and uncertainty.

  She reached down, grabbed a fistful of his hair in her hands.

  “Fuck me now, Damian.”

  He knelt between her legs, reached into the nightstand and removed a foil packet. He tore it open with his teeth and rolled the condom on his engorged shaft as he looked down at her through hooded eyes. There was a promise in their depths, but she couldn’t read the terms.

  His body was a work of art, and she took advantage of the moment to take him in: the broad shoulders and defined chest tapering to a slim waist, the flat stomach showcasing a perfect “V” pointing to the most glorious cock, long and thick, that she’d ever seen, the muscular thighs poised to drive into her.

  It was enough to set the pulse pounding between her legs again.

  Enough to send a fresh rush of moisture to her sex.

  He stretched out over her, reached for one of her legs and hooked his arm under her knee. She was wide open for him, her pussy slick from her orgasm and already throbbing for another one.

  He rubbed his thick head through her slick folds and she gasped as it bumped against her hyper-sensitive clit. She moved her hips with him, trying to coax him inside her.

  Reaching up with one hand, he slid his fingers into the hair at the back of her head, closed his lips over hers, his tongue diving into her mouth at the same moment he thrust hard and fast inside her pussy.

  She moaned as he tunneled through her, his tip hitting the top of her womb with a force that walked the knife’s blade between pleasure and pain.

  He stayed there as he kissed her, opening her mouth with his tongue as her body stretched to accommodate his massive cock. The touch of his tongue on hers, the rub of his body against her clit, the intensity of the pressure inside her all worked together to ignite the spark still smoldering in her body.

  There was no hesitation. No awkwardness. They moved together like they were two halves of the same whole. Like they’d been meant for each other.

  She let her hands travel over his body, lost in the sensation of muscle and sinew under skin, the perfect movement of him under her fingertips as he drove inside her, dragged himself slowly back out before pushing in again, each thrust bringing her closer to the abyss of release.

  He reached for her hands again, pinned them over her head as he moved faster inside her, his rhythm more urgent.

  “Look at me, Aria.”

  The words were raw and guttural, a command she couldn’t deny. She lifted her eyes to his, let herself get lost in them without trying to define the q
uestions lurking there.

  He moved faster, pushing into her in a frenzy, his dark hair falling over his forehead as he owned her. The pressure in her center became more explosive with each thrust, her need more urgent with each withdrawal until she was moving frantically with him, reaching for the orgasm hovering over her body.

  “Say my name,” he said. “Say my name when you come.”

  “Damian,” she gasped. “Come with me, Damian.”

  He growled, driving into her with a vicious thrust as the orgasm overflowed her body, spilling into her skin, coating Damian with it as he achieved his own release. He bent his head to hers, thrust his tongue inside her mouth as he continued moving inside of her, letting her milk him of every last drop as the tremors in her own body slowly died.

  When he was done he rolled onto the bed next to her, pulling her into his arms.

  She pressed her lips to his chest. “What have we done?”

  “I don’t know.” He kissed her head. “I don’t know.”

  20

  It was still dark when Damian slid from the bed, careful not to wake her. He was surprised how quickly she’d fallen asleep in his arms after they made love. Like a child finally exhausted, her breathing had turned soft and regular, her soft exhale a whisper against his chest as he’d held her.

  He hadn’t slept much. He’d been too overwhelmed.

  He wasn’t surprised to feel concern. Sleeping with Aria Fiore would complicate things regardless of where they went from here.

  But he hadn’t anticipated the depth of emotion that had moved through him as he’d held her. Hand’t expected the lack of regret. They would both pay a terrible price for what they’d done, but he couldn’t bring himself to wish it away. It had been a long time since he’d felt connected to someone.

  Had he ever felt connected to anyone?

  He didn’t know. He only knew that there had been something indefinable between him and Aria from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. He didn’t believe in love at first sight.