Hunter

by Blaire Drake

  A chill blew across my back, and when I turned around, Adriana was standing in the doorway to the shower, completely naked.

  I gripped my dick tightly. “What are you doing?”

  She—somehow—slid into the tiny space with me and shut the door. She gasped as the water ran over her, soaking her. “I'm not an idiot, Hunter,” she whispered, the back of her hand brushing my thigh. “You just randomly needed a shower, yeah?”

  “Maybe.”

  She shoved my hand away and curled her tiny fingers around my erection. “Don't treat me like an idiot.”

  I clenched my jaw as she slowly moved her hand along my length. Her hand was so soft, her palm so gentle against me, even as she squeezed lightly and rubbed her thumb over the head of my cock.

  Heat bolted through me. Fucking hell. I'd imagined it, sure, but before now, it'd all been about her. Now for some reason it'd changed and it was about me.

  I wasn't going complain.

  Not even as she dropped to her knees and flicked her tongue against me. My hips jerked toward her, and I flattened my hand against the wet tiles when she took me in her mouth fully.

  Fucking fuck.

  She took me greedily with her hot little mouth, and I couldn't resist looking down her as her head bobbed back and forward. My hand slipped down and grabbed her wet hair. My body tightened as she massaged the underside of my cock with the tip of her tongue before taking me right inside.

  She gagged as I hit the back of her throat, and I watched her, mesmerized. There was something so hot about hearing her gag on my cock. Maybe it was my desire to own her entirely and it was just one more reassurance that a part of her was controlled by me, but I didn't know.

  She cupped my balls, and I jerked back out of her mouth.

  That was it.

  I dragged her up, half by her arm, half by her hair, and spun her away from me. “Hands on the fucking wall,” I ordered, slamming her palms against the glass cubicle. “Step back. Ass out, Adriana. I want to see you before I fuck you.”

  She obeyed, stepping back and arching her back so I could see her pussy. She was exposed fully, and I pushed one finger inside her to test her wetness.

  “So wet,” I murmured, leaning forward and grazing my teeth across her shoulder. “If that's what it does to you, you can suck my cock more often.” She didn't respond, so I fisted her hair and pulled her head back. She whimpered as I pumped two fingers, then a third inside her. “Was that an agreement?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, gasping when I replaced my fingers with my cock. “Fuck!”

  I slid my arm down her side and over her hip, along her thigh and behind her knee, then lifted her leg. I pushed one of mine forward as I struggled to keep a grip on her wet skin.

  Her moan as I slammed my cock unapologetically inside her drowned out the sound of the shower. The reflection of her hard nipples shone back at me, and it just made me harder, made me need her more. Her desire was flooding all through her body just like my own was. My balls tightened as her cries became louder and she reached back for me.

  I grasped her wrist and put it back against the wall. My breathing was harsh as I focused on nothing but fucking her so hard that she'd pass out before her head even hit the pillow. I wanted it, too.

  If I fucked her so hard I'd fall asleep standing up, there would be no more nightmares. No more internal darkness, just for now.

  The sound of my hand hitting her ass rang out as the water only acted to make it harsher. I gritted my teeth as I hooked my arm under her leg, pulling it higher, and thrusted into her tight pussy harder. She clenched around me, but I could feel the desire to smack her ass harder growing.

  I want her to hurt so I don't have to.

  I drew in a sharp breath and stilled, buried inside her.

  “Carlo,” she whispered, turning her head back to me when I let go of her hair. “Don't stop. Please.”

  “I'm—”

  “You're not.” She reached back, and the touch of her fingertips against my stomach comforted. “I want you. Please.”

  Her words were all I needed.

  I let go.

  She linked her fingers through mine against the glass and stuck her ass out further to me. Deep inside I wanted to pull my cock out of her pussy and fill her ass, but not today... Not here. Not when I could have hurt her. Not when she'd told me she wanted me anyway.

  Her cry of release bounced off the walls, and I pounded into her more fiercely. Jesus, fuck, merda. I came inside her harshly, her pussy contracting around me and encouraging my orgasm to come and come and come.

  Adriana dropped her head forward and relaxed. Her leg shook in my grip, so I slowly lowered it, pulled out of her, and wrapped my arms around her. I turned her in my arms and she fell against my chest, laughing quietly.

  “Wow,” she breathed through her giggles. “That was unexpected.”

  “Really,” I drawled, relishing the hot water beating against the back of my neck. “You walk in here stark naked, drop to your knees to suck my cock, and then you're surprised when I fuck the hell outta you.”

  “Basically.” She sighed and circled my waist with her arms. “I just... I don't know. Wanted you.”

  “Not complaining, Addy,” I said into her wet hair. “Come—wait. Shit. I didn't bring any soap in.”

  She looked back, grinned, and then screamed when the water splashed on her. She slinked out of my hold to open the door, and produced three bottles from the floor. “How do you think I knew you were coming in here to get off?”

  I looked at the bottle of bodywash in her hand, then the shampoo and conditioner on the floor. At least I thought it was shampoo and conditioner. I just used normal soap everywhere. “All right, you smart fuck.”

  She laughed and opened the bottle before squirting a freezing stream of gel all over my body.

  “Fucking hell!” I yelled, batting at my stomach to get rid of it.

  Her laughter was still so loud, so strong, so I grabbed the bottle from her and shot it right back at her. She screamed when I dropped it just as sharply and pulled her against me. I captured her mouth with mine as my hands found the soap on her sides and rubbed it over her back.

  She smiled against me as I rubbed it all over her upper body. We washed each other between laughs and kisses, and when all the soap was finally washed out of her hair, she reached behind me to kill the water. I pushed the door open and we half-stumbled out, grabbing a towel each.

  “Errr,” she groaned. “One towel each? What about my hair?”

  “I won't complain if you walk around with a towel on your head and nothing else,” I assured her.

  Really—it wouldn't be a hardship.

  She glared at me, squeezed some water out of her hair into the sink, and left the bathroom.

  The light of the room was glaring as I joined her in it. It was the most basic room, but enough for one night. I hoped she wouldn't care about the lack of a hairdryer or I knew we'd be stopping somewhere for a travel hairdryer. The last time I vacationed with my parents my mom was horrified about the lack of a dryer and searched three stores before finally threatening the hotel concierge.

  Women were serious about their hair. That much I knew.

  Thankfully, Adriana scrubbed her body, dressed in some underwear, and then rubbed her hair dry with a towel. I pulled my boxers onto my half-damp body. I couldn't be bothered with drying off—that was what the air was for—and got into the bed.

  She tied off her braid with a tie and climbed in next to me. “The light's on,” she whispered, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

  I shot her an annoyed look as I got out and turned it off.

  “Thank you,” she said when I got back in with her. She snuggled up to my arm, so I wrapped it around her, and she laid her head on my chest. Her wet hair was a little cold against my skin, but her breath was hot as it skittered across my chest, so I didn't mind too much. It was a fair balance, I thought.

  She hooked her leg over mine, and I tur
ned into her. She smiled and rested one arm over my waist as I pulled her against me a little more.

  It was nice to just hold her.

  'Nice' seemed sorely inadequate.

  I held her, blindly watching some midnight game show on TV, as her breathing leveled out and she fell into sleep. When her breathing had been steady for several minutes, I shuffled back a tiny bit to look at her.

  She was still vulnerable. Gorgeous, but vulnerable. Breakable. Like a china doll. I wanted to wrap her up in cotton wool, despite her strong spirit. I wondered a lot if she knew what she was getting herself into by chasing after Enzio.

  He was a monster unlike any she'd ever crossed.

  He made me look like a saint.

  She still had good memories of him. He wasn't a terrible father when she was young. He simply... changed. He became corrupted by the power he held, and she became his unwilling victim.

  He'd already broken her heart once.

  I didn't want her to see him and know he was nothing like the man she remembered.

  Then again, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe she'd see him and how the life was and say she wanted out. She was about the only person that could do that. She'd been away long enough that she could hand the family to someone else and allow them to control it.

  She wouldn't, though.

  I smiled as I pushed a thin lock of hair from her eyes. She was a spitfire. Ferocious. A fighter. She wouldn't go down without giving her all.

  It terrified the fuck out of me.

  I didn't think I could I survive if she didn't.

  If she died... For real this time... I'd take any bullet, any torture, any pain.

  I could live with her loving another—just—but I couldn't live if she didn't.

  I guess that was the curse of loving your best friend. There was no one there to hold your hand when you had a broken heart.

  For me, anyway. She'd be okay. She had Gaige. I hated it and I hated him, but if I died trying to kill Enzio, he'd be there for her. If I was honest with myself, I'd probably have to give her up anyway.

  If Enzio died and she took control, she'd be on a timeline. She'd need a real ring on her finger by the end of the year. Someone worthy of being the Boss, the Don, the Godfather. Someone strong enough to do it.

  She moved her hand around my side and rested it against my chest. It was her left one.

  I softly took her hand and looked at her bare finger. There was still the faintest indent of where the ring was on her skin, pale pink, and I brought it to my mouth and closed my eyes. My lips brushed over it, and my heart squeezed.

  I didn't lie to her earlier.

  I would marry her in a heartbeat.

  Less than.

  I always would have.

  I always would.

  I set her hand back against my chest. It would never happen though, because as soon as she took control of the family, I would step aside for her to take the sensible choice.

  I would make the most of her now, while I could, because soon, she would hate me.

  As soon as she found out I was lying to her with every breath I took, she'd forget she ever loved me.

  She would kill me.

  And I would deserve it.

  ***

  “Hunter!” Addy yells. “There's a spider in the toilet and it's going to eat me!”

  “Really, Addy? A spider? We're not in Australia,” I call back, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. The last time she tried this it turned out to be an ant. I'm struggling with my confidence in her ability to name bugs right now.

  “I swear! It's huge! Get rid of it! Now!”

  I sigh and go upstairs, taking two at a time, until I reach her in the bathroom. “Adriana, that's not a spider.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “A centipede.”

  “Ew!” she shrieks. “So it has one hundred legs? That's disgusting!”

  I roll my eyes and pull two squares of tissue from the holder. I fold them up and then pick up the bug with my bare hands. She screams and runs out of the room, and when I have the centipede safely encased in the tissue, I hold it in front of me.

  “It's coming for yoooooouuuuu!” I tease her, stomping across the hall.

  “Carlo! Don't you dare bring that near me!”

  “It's gonna eat youuuuuu!”

  “I hate you!” She runs down the stairs at lightspeed and flings open the back door.

  “It's on you!” I shout, pointing at her back.

  She screams, throwing her arms out. She spins several times, but when she pauses to bat at her shoulders, I see the tears in her eyes.

  “Hey.” I run to her in the middle of the patio. “I'm joking, Addy. It's not on you.”

  She freezes, her bright eyes finding mine. “You promise?”

  “I promise.” I take her into my arms and hug her. She wraps her arms around me, then pulls back and punches me square in the chest.

  “You idiota,” she scolds me. “You owe me ice cream for that.”

  “Do I?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “Si.”

  “I have no money.”

  “So go call your mamma before I call mine and tell her you've been mean to me again.” She pouts and folds her arms petulantly across her chest.

  Eleven years old and she has more attitude than half the women we know.

  “Okay, okay, I'll call Mamma,” I give in. I bend and kiss her rosy cheek.

  “Don't try and butter me up with your cooty kisses, Hunter.”

  “Aw, come on, you know I'm only mean to you sometimes because I love you, Principessa.”

  She pouts again, then relents. “I know. I love you, too, Cacciatore. When you don't pretend to throw bugs at me.”

  ***

  Last night was filled of memories of what was—the good kind. If you could count endless childhood memories disguised as dreams.

  Bugs. Ice cream. Jello. Dinner. Dances. Everything up until she was ripped out of my life.

  I pulled into the motel parking lot just outside of Chicago and looked over at Adriana. She'd been asleep for the last couple of hours, so I nudged her awake gently. “Addy? We're here.”

  She jerked awake and looked at me with sleep in her eyes. “We are? Wow. That was quick.”

  “Sure.” I smirked and killed the engine. If ten hours was fucking quick—five of which she was driving for.

  “Shut up.” She batted at me and reached for the car door, then paused. “Crap.” She leaned back, grabbed the bag with the ring box in it, and sat back right. I watched with thinly-veiled amusement as she pulled out the box and slipped the ring onto her finger.

  She looked like she'd stepped in dog shit.

  “And here go the happy couple,” I said under my breath as we go out.

  She glared at me before I grabbed the bags and wrapped my arm around her waist. I didn't know how she could be so mad at me personally. I kept giving her great orgasms, yet pretending to be married to me was hell.

  Honestly. You couldn't make this shit up.

  We entered the reception building and waited behind a couple that certainly didn't look like they were newlyweds—even pretend ones. They looked closer to hooker and friend.

  “Mr and Mrs. Conti,” Adriana said, plastering a fake smile on her face. “We have a room reservation tonight.”

  The girl behind the counter blew a bubble with her gum and then snapped it with her tongue. “Room 316,” she said in a droll tone. She swiped a card. “Here's your key. Go out of this building and the second block on the left. First floor.”

  “Is there parking?”

  “Yep. Drive left and it's the second block. Parking outside.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, taking the key. “Come on, honey.”

  The door slammed behind her and Adriana elbowed me. “Honey? Fucking honey?”

  “Isn't that what married people call each other?”

  “I don't know. I've never been fucking married,” she hissed, getting in the car. />
  I dumped the bags on her lap and slammed the door. She was in a bad mood—note to self... Don't wake Adriana Romano up. Ever. Even from a nap in the car.

  I drove the two minutes to the 'second block on the left' and pulled into an empty space. I knew Gemma wanted us to fly under the radar, but fuck me. There was flying under the radar and then there was preferably sleeping on the streets.

  This place looked awful.

  “Uh...” Adriana said, staring out of the window. “I'm not a snob, but this is the best she could find?”

  “Well... it might not be so bad inside.” I was being optimistic, and she knew it. But, hey. Optimism was good.

  “Mmm,” was her only response before she got out of the car. She was already fumbling with the band on her left finger, and she removed it easier than she had last night.

  She had been practicing that in the car before she fell asleep, after all.

  She took the key from my hand and then looked at the rusted sign that showed which floor the rooms were on. “First floor,” she said, turning around to me.

  She screwed up her face as she said it, like it was the most disgusting thing she'd heard in her life. I'd seen this expression before—this unimpressed, horrified whisper over her features.

  She was many things right now—including frustrated, angry, and annoyed as all get out, but tolerant didn't seem to be one of them.

  “It's just for one night. We can leave early. Before sunrise. We just need to sleep,” I reasoned with her, touching my hand to the small of her back.

  She stepped away from me, a displeasured noise escaping her pursed lips. She grabbed a bag from me and took off toward the metal stairs that climbed the side wall of the building. The dim lights that lit the pathway to them flickered, almost ominously, and I swore I saw her stick her middle finger up at them.

  Yep. The Princess attitude was out in full force tonight. I didn't blame her--we'd had a close call a couple hours ago when we crossed the state line into Illinois. Coming through Illinois, although the shorter route, was equal parts smart and motherfuckin' stupid.

  If we made it through the state without alerting the Solleticos, it'd be almost a bigger win than if we killed Enzio and didn't get killed ourselves.