by Lucia Black
Lorna excused herself with a lingering look at Alessandro and went upstairs. He drained the rest of his soda, still grinning, and set the can down on the table, making Caroline jump. He wiggled his eyebrows at his brother, then followed Lorna.
She was already naked when he got to the room. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, drinking in the sight of her. Perfect curves, soft skin, the waves of brown hair falling over her shoulders, hungry honey-brown eyes. “I do love your enthusiasm, princess.”
She stepped up to him, wrapped her hand loosely around the side of his neck to draw him down to her, and slotted her mouth against his with a deadly seductive purposefulness. Too soon she sank to her knees, drawing her hand from his neck down his chest to undo the button on his jeans. He sighed out a breathy, “Oh,” when he realized her intentions.
She gazed up at him coyly, looking entirely too innocent as she freed his rapidly hardening dick from his boxers. She pressed little kisses up the side of his length, then one at his tip. His heart beat so loudly he was sure she could hear it. Her tongue licked a stripe up the underside of his now fully erect cock, and he shuddered, wrapping his hand around her hair to ground him. She teased, and he supposed he deserved it, taking just the tip between her lips, and sucking softly. The high whine that leaked from his throat was completely undignified, and she pulled away to lick her lips and grin at him.
He regained his composure and narrowed his eyes, looking down at her. “I wondered if you were going to pay me back for teasing you.” He loosened his hold on her hair, preparing for her to stand up.
She wrapped her lips around his tip again and his hand clenched in her hair. She hummed in amusement, and it sent electricity through his entire body. Her tongue swirled around him and dipped into his slit. He pushed on her head, needing more. She pulled off again, letting his cock fall out of her mouth with a lewd pop. “Patience is a virtue,” she said.
“Fuck virtue,” he growled. Nothing about this situation was virtuous. He was fucking his brother’s fiancé. She seemed to understand, and took him in her mouth again, swallowing until her nose pressed against his skin and he hit the back of her throat. Her mouth was so warm and wet and soft around him. She hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head.
He was dead. Alessandro had died and gone to heaven. He tugged her hair and let his head fall back against the door, chest heaving. She hummed around him again and his head snapped up to look at her. She was, of course, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And with her mouth stretched around his cock, eyes meeting his, fingers digging into his thighs, nothing could possibly be more beautiful.
His hips rocked forward slightly, chasing the feeling of pure bliss. She gagged a little, but she didn’t pull away, and a low moan tore through his chest. Her mouth was perfect, felt perfect, looked perfect. And this was perfect. Nothing could make this any better. Except if she were going to marry him instead of Giovanni. But now was absolutely not the time to think about that.
He swallowed hard, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. And he liked the thought of watching her swallow his release, cum and spit dripping down her pretty chin. But he pulled her head away before he got there. He’d rather see her come apart while he was inside her. He released her hair and peeled himself away from the door. She was breathing hard, moving her jaw from side to side to stretch it out. She stood, looking triumphant, and turned to go to the bed.
He slapped her ass, making her jump. “Tease,” he scolded.
“You’re one to talk,” she scoffed.
He spun her around and smacked her ass again. She laughed. He spoke against the shell of her ear, voice low. “It’s fun when I do it.”
She smacked his ass, though it didn’t have the same effect since he still had pants on. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”
He laughed and pushed her playfully onto the bed, watching her bounce. He wanted every part of her, every intimacy. He wanted to feel her clench around him without a layer of latex in between and watch his seed leak out of her pretty pussy. “Are you on birth control?” He shucked off his pants and pulled his shirt over his head.
She looked at him for a moment, uncertainty closing off her expression. “Yes.” A pause spanned between them where he tried to gather his thoughts into the clearest and sexiest terms he could, but she spoke first. “Are you out of condoms?”
He laughed. “No not yet, I just . . .” He got lost in her eyes and trailed off. He needed to kiss her. His hand covered her cheek, and he could taste traces of himself in her mouth. It was oddly erotic and romantic. So far, they’d been desperate, needy. This kiss was passionate. Not just lust, there were feelings behind it.
They pulled back to breathe, and she whispered against his lips, “I’m clean.”
An invitation.
“So am I.” His mind was made up. He kissed her again, more forcefully, and pushed her back to lie down on the bed. The romantic moment passed, and they were claws and teeth again. His fingers trailed up her thigh to dip between her folds and find her leaking arousal. He smiled against her neck and pushed her legs further apart. He slid his length along the apex of her thighs and tugged her earlobe with his teeth. She moaned softly and canted her hips up against him. “You want to feel my cock inside you?” he growled.
“Yes.” She sounded sure. “Stop teasing and fuck me.”
Always so impatient. But this time, he didn’t have the patience to tease. He pushed into her slowly, drawing out the feeling of sinking into her tight, wet heat. He lived for the sounds she made. Delicious little whimpering moans that dissolved into the air like wisps of cotton candy on a tongue.
He braced himself on his elbows and drew himself back to snap his hips forward sharply. She clawed at his back, leaving angry red scratches. He snapped his hips again, completely controlled, but far from gentle. He closed his teeth over the edge of her collarbone, then soothed the bite with his tongue. Someday, he wouldn’t have to be mindful where he left a mark. Someday, he would mark her where everyone could see, so everyone would know that she was his. That only he could have her like this.
That possessiveness motivated his thrusts, pushing her up further on the bed. She pulled his hair and dug her nails into his hip, matching his every move and asking for more, more. He gave it, almost animalistic in his passion. He pushed one of her knees up against her chest to reach deeper and harder, and her fingernails scratched his scalp and pulled his hair, but he was beyond caring. He could feel a spark building, ready to burst, and the way she clenched around him and chanted, “Yes, fuck. There,” told him she was close too.
He moved a hand between them to swipe a thumb over her clit. “I’m gonna come,” he gasped, never slowing his hips.
Her hand tightened in his hair, her head tilted back, face scrunched up. “Yes,” she hissed, giving him permission. His thumb on her clit doubled its efforts, and he raised her hips to go as deep as he could. She spasmed around him, clenching and shaking and pushing him over the edge. He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, eyes fluttering between open and closed.
Lorna’s hand in his hair loosened to smooth it out, and he leaned into the soft touch. When his breathing returned to normal, he rolled over and pulled out of her. She sighed, not able to move yet. She was so beautiful like this. Totally fucked out, eyes all glossy, cheeks rosy, skin glimmering with a thin layer of sweat. He loved her. And he wanted to tell her that, but the fear that it would ruin everything stopped him.
She pushed herself to her feet slowly, a little off balance, and headed to the bathroom. He watched her go, limbs weighed down by the realization of what they’d done. He couldn’t let her marry Giovanni, but how could he stop it? And what happened after she got married? His feelings wouldn’t dissipate. They never had. He would keep on wanting her, needing her. And he absolutely couldn’t have an affair with his brother’s wife. But how difficult would it be when he saw her for meals, worked with her, lived close? If she felt even a shadow of wh
at he felt for her, he’d damned them both.
19
Lorna
Lorna zipped her suitcase. She wasn’t ready to go back to real life. This dream had been nice. Sleeping with Alessandro was a fantastic distraction from her impending wedding. He picked up her suitcase to carry it down to the car. She watched the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of their bags, and she sat down on the edge of the bed. It was always going to end. But there was a part of her that had hoped it wouldn’t. That they’d be stuck in this hideout indefinitely. That she wouldn’t have to go back and face the man she was going to marry.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She answered as soon as she read ‘Mom’ on the caller ID. “Hey, Mama,” she answered.
“Lorna, you need to be here as soon as possible.” Her voice sounded too quiet. Lorna’s mother was excitable, and her voice usually betrayed her emotions. Now, she sounded expressionless and apathetic, which meant something was terribly wrong.
“Where? What happened?” She sprang to her feet and paced to the window.
A breath on the other end of the line. “Your father is in the emergency room.” Her voice remained severely calm, but there was a tight quality to it, barely audible over the phone.
“Why?” Lorna demanded. Her father shouldn’t be in the emergency room. He had bodyguards and body doubles. He took precautions. He shouldn’t be in the line of fire. Something went very wrong.
“He had a heart attack?” It came out as a question, though still missing the characteristic emotion she usually displayed.
“He had a heart attack,” Lorna echoed in disbelief. Her father was healthy. He was careful about what he ate, how much exercise he got. He saw his doctor for annual well-visits and not much else. He rarely even got a cold. A heart attack. Lorna remembered the history of heart problems on his side of the family, but they all thought they’d skipped him. Apparently not. Outside the window, Alessandro shut the trunk of his car and headed back in. “I’ll be there right away,” she told her mother. They were hours away from the city, but she could probably cut that time in half if she drove the way her father told her to never drive.
She ended the call and raced down the stairs, straight into Alessandro, who instinctively wrapped his arms around her. “What’s the rush?” The humor on his face drained when he saw her expression.
She pushed him away. “We’re leaving now.” She walked past him to the door.
“Where?” He jogged after her. “Why?”
She ran to his car and sat in the driver’s seat. She didn’t have time, and she didn’t trust Alessandro to have the urgency necessary to get her to her father as soon as humanly possible. She held out her hand expectantly. “The key.”
He looked confused and a little scared, but he handed her the car key and slid into the passenger’s seat. “Where are we going?”
“The hospital.” Her reply was clipped. Curt to discourage more questions, but Alessandro never could take a hint.
“Why?” he asked. She peeled out of the gravel drive and sped toward the highway, disregarding the traffic laws that didn’t suit her. He grabbed the handle above the window. “Lorna?” He sounded more than a little concerned. She knew it wasn’t his fault, and she was being cold for no reason, but she’d been too familiar with him already, and now that they were back in the real world, she had to break things off cleanly. So why not start now?
“My father had a heart attack.” She swerved onto the right shoulder to pass a semi, then cut off a line of little cars pulling back onto the road.
“Lorna?” Alessandro sounded scared. She’d never seen him scared before. Not like this. “Slow down.”
She did not slow down, zipping in and out of traffic like a stunt driver in an action movie. “My father had a heart attack,” she repeated.
Alessandro took a deep breath and held tighter to the handle above the door. “He’s at the hospital, right? They’re taking care of him.”
He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand how much Lorna needed to be at that hospital right fucking now. She needed answers, she needed to see that he was okay, she needed to be there for her mother, she needed to grill the doctors and make sure this never happened again.
Alessandro flinched visibly when she crossed three lanes of traffic to pass a slow car. “Please slow down.”
“No.” She hit the brakes hard to avoid running into the car in front of her, then pulled onto the shoulder to pass.
“Lorna, please.” There was raw fear in his voice. “You’re going to kill us both.” She honestly hadn’t considered her own safety, or his. She eased up on the gas, breathing hard for no reason. He didn’t relax his grip on the handle above the door. “I know you’re scared,” he tried to reason with her. “So am I.” A light, uncomfortable laugh. “We’ll get there when we get there, but I’d rather not arrive by ambulance.”
Lorna knew he was right, and she drove with safety in mind the remaining hours back to the city. The hospital was crowded, and she parked illegally, but Alessandro knew better than to comment on it.
It seemed like her entire family was sitting in the waiting room or crowded in the hallway outside her father’s room. She pushed through the crowd of aunts and cousins, and someone let her into the room.
Everything had a light blue cast to it. The lights were low. It smelled like antiseptic and an unpleasant cleaner. Her father lay in the bed with his eyes closed, gray hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. She didn’t like the way he looked so frail in a hospital gown.
“Father?” She sat lightly on the side of the bed, watching the blinking lights on the monitors that beeped in irritatingly apathetic rhythms.
His eyes fluttered open, and a faint smile appeared on his face. “My Lorna.” His voice sounded weak, and she hated it. He was the strongest person she knew, and seeing him like this felt wrong. “How was your week with Giovanni?”
She shook her head. She wasn’t here to talk about herself, never mind the fact that she didn’t want to have to lie to him right now. “What happened?”
“I had a heart attack.” He laughed, which turned into a dry cough. She handed him a small cup of water from a tray. His hands trembled as he tried to hold it, and Lorna wrapped her own hands around it, steadying him so he could drink. It broke Lorna’s heart. “But I’m alive,” he said as she took the cup to set it back on the tray. “That’s what matters.” His eyes sparkled. “And the doctor says I should be out in time for your wedding.”
She forced a smile and patted his arm. “I’m glad to hear it.” She stood up. “I’m sure you need to rest.”
He sighed. “That’s what the doctor says.”
She nodded and bowed out of the room, shaken more deeply than she cared to admit. In the waiting room, she located her mother sitting quietly in a chair, staring into nothing. Lorna rushed over to grab her mother’s hand. “Mama?”
She looked up at her daughter, lost. “It’s all right. He’s going to recover, and everything will be fine.” The smile on her face was a lie. The same smile Lorna wore around Giovanni and Don Moretti.
“Is there a chance it’ll happen again?” she asked, squeezing the hand still clasped in hers.
Her mother nodded. “Yes. The doctors say it’s likely. They’ll take preventative measures, but . . .” she trailed off, looking past Lorna into some future she didn’t want to see.
“He seems okay,” Lorna said. “And you have a lot of support.” She waved a hand to indicate the family gathered in clumps around them. She smiled at a few cousins, then froze, blood running ice cold through her chest.
She didn’t think about it very often anymore. She was what they liked to call a survivor. She’d moved on with her life. But seeing her uncle’s face—the mustache, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the loud, plaid tie—dredged up memories she’d been happy to forget. A hand covering her mouth, crushing her cheeks to keep her quiet. The light on the wall blurring into a blob of gold as tears filled her eyes.
A syrupy-sweet voice in her ear telling her that good girls stay still. The comforting dark under her bed where she played with the soft ripped edges of her nightgown while the party carried on downstairs.
Lorna forgot how to breathe. Her mother stood and put a hand on her shoulder to draw her attention away from old nightmares. The concern in her mother’s eyes was the same as it had been the night she found her nine-year-old daughter sobbing under her bed with a torn nightgown and a life’s worth of trauma.
Lorna hugged her mother because she needed to feel protected, even though she could defend herself now, even though her uncle wouldn’t stand a chance. She played it off like she was comforting her mother, but her mother knew. And she hugged her back.
20
Alessandro
Alessandro stood alone in the waiting room, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs. He worried about his car, parked illegally by the second-floor entrance. Lorna really didn’t care, and he really had no choice but to follow her. She still had his keys, so he couldn’t leave, but he was also worried about her. She hadn’t been herself. He didn’t know her to be reckless with her own safety or that of others. He knew she was under a lot of pressure and he wished he could help somehow. He wished he could figure out a good way to stop the wedding without stepping on his father’s toes.
When Lorna returned to the waiting room, she went straight to her mother. Alessandro watched, trying to make out the words exchanged. He’d overheard conversations, and Don Bianchi seemed to be okay. The doctors seemed to think he would recover. But Lorna and her mother still looked very on edge. And they had every right to, Alessandro supposed. He could imagine if it were his father the turmoil that would cause, how his mother would refuse to leave his side no matter what the doctors said, and how every business operation would have to be put on hold or picked up by him or his brothers. It would be a nightmare.
