Fine in Lingerie: Lingerie #11

by Penelope Sky

  He gripped my chin and lifted my gaze. He looked at me, reading my emotions, and then kissed me on the mouth. “Love you.”

  “Love you.”

  He released me then walked out.

  I stared at his powerful frame as he left, following him with my eyes until he walked past the windows and disappeared from sight.

  We didn’t even get through dinner before he threw me on the table and made love to me. He knocked over my wineglass, and it shattered on the hardwood floor. The bottle rolled across the table and met the same fate, but that didn’t stop him from thrusting inside me, his hand deep in my hair and his gaze possessive.

  I didn’t give a damn about the mess.

  He came inside me then carried me into our bedroom, ignoring the dirty plates and spilled wine that we would worry about in the morning. We got into bed, side by side, with our faces together. My leg was hooked over his hip, and his large hand gripped the back of my thigh. He’d shaved that morning, so his face was clean. I could see his hard jaw better, study the prominent line that separated his chin from his neck.

  I could feel his come inside me, feel the hefty weight and warmth. At any given time, I had his essence inside me. When I was at work, I could feel it. When I slept at night, I could feel it. Only rare times in the middle of the day did I not feel it.

  He watched me, his chest still sweaty from the way he took me earlier. His eyes were on me like that last session hadn’t been enough. He always seemed to want me, no matter many times he took me. This lifetime wasn’t enough. A thousand lifetimes wouldn’t be enough.

  My fingers moved over his chest, sliding across the sweat and the muscles. His black ink was vibrant in contrast to his fair skin. I was dark in comparison, my Italian blood giving me an exotic appearance. My fingers rubbed over the black ink, touching a date he had inked along his ribs. “What does this mean?” I never asked him about his tattoos. I studied them every time we were in bed together, staring at the different artwork that formed a fresco over his body. He never used colored ink, always sticking to black. There was a skull in one place, a snake on the other side of his stomach, a gravestone above his heart. Images were separated by vague symbols. I wondered if every single image meant something to him, or if the only purpose was to hide his broken skin underneath.

  He didn’t look at my hand to see what I was pointing at. “The day my mother was killed.”

  My fingers trembled against his skin, the jolt of pain slamming in my heart. “Christmas Eve.”

  “Yes.”

  My fingers moved over his heart, feeling the steady beat. “I’m sorry, Griffin.”

  His eyes shifted back and forth slightly as he looked at me. He studied me with the same intensity he always regarded me with, claiming me and watching me at the exact same time. “I know, baby. She was a good woman.”

  “Yes, she was. What do you remember about her?”

  He paused as he considered my question. “Not a lot. I vaguely remember the way she smelled, the way she would whisper when she was truly angry. I remember the way she made me feel…like I was loved, no matter what. When I became an adult, I learned more about my parents. My mother didn’t love my father. She was a concubine he’d claimed as his own. He knocked her up, but he had no idea she was ever pregnant. My mother loved me anyway, didn’t care that I was the result of a horrible night. We lost everything, but that didn’t make her give up. She kept going…doing the best she could. I would do anything to have her here now, to take care of her so she would never have to worry about anything ever again.”

  My heart throbbed once more, hearing the regret in his voice. “She’d be proud of you.”

  “Proud of what exactly?” he whispered. “I kill people for a living.”

  “You never cared that she was a prostitute. Why would she care that you kill people?”

  He watched me, silent.

  “She’d be proud of you because of what you just said to me…that you wish you could take care of her. You take care of me. You love me with everything that you have. I sleep well at night because you’re beside me. I’ve never needed a man for anything, but I need you for everything.” I moved my face into his chest and kissed the skin over his heart, feeling his heart pound against my mouth. When I pulled away, he was still looking at me, his eyes even more focused than before.

  “There’s nothing that turns me on more than hearing you say that.”

  “That I need you?” I whispered, my fingers moving down his hard stomach.

  “Yes.”

  “I mean it.” I kissed his heart again. “I’ll always mean it.”

  His hand slid up my thigh until he reached my ass. He gave it a firm squeeze. “Baby.” He pressed his face into mine and kissed me, a hot kiss with tongue, passion, and heavy breaths. He pulled my bottom lip into his mouth and gave it a gentle nibble before he released it. “I’ll always make you need me.”

  “Good…because I like it.” I’d spent three months without him, and I’d needed him every single second we were apart. He was my happiness, all my joy. My hand moved to his shoulder, feeling the tight muscles that shifted under my touch. “You’ve never told me about your tattoos.”

  “Because there’s nothing to tell.”

  “I disagree. Which one was your first?”

  He pointed to his right side, indicating the skull.

  “And you’ve been getting them ever since?” I hadn’t seen him get new sink since we’d been together. His ink was smeared in places where he’d been shot, from when I’d put a bullet in him as well as the one meant for my father. He would have to touch those up eventually.

  “Yes.”

  “Are they just to cover your wounds? Because you have them all over the place.”

  “I got most of them in my early twenties. I had nothing else better to do.”

  “So, they don’t mean anything to you?”

  “Some do. Some don’t.” His hand trailed over my hips until he cupped my right tit. “I think you’d look sexy with some ink.” He moved to my right hip. “Right here.” He dragged the backs of his fingers over the skin, his eyes following his movements.

  “And what should I put there?”

  He shrugged.

  “Let me guess…you name?”

  He didn’t crack a smile at my comment. “I don’t need to brand you with my name to prove you’re mine. Any idiot with eyes can see that you’re my woman. Because my eyes are always on you, and your eyes are always on me.”

  It was true. Anytime I went out in public, men never hit on me. Bones always lingered in the background, acting as the strongest bug repellent a girl ever needed. I didn’t even need to wear a large diamond ring to keep the gnats away.

  “A man brands his woman in the bedroom. A man doesn’t need to hold her hand or wrap his arm around her waist in public, not when his come is sitting inside her at all times. You never forget you belong to me, not when you can always feel me between your legs.” His hand moved down my stomach until he reached the apex of my thighs. He played with my clit a little bit before his fingers moved inside my slit, feeling his come sitting at the entrance. He kept his eyes locked on me, his possessive gaze burning into my skin. “You like feeling me between your legs. It helps you sleep at night.”

  “Yes.” I loved his come. I’d never let a man come inside me before. I always used condoms. He had the first honor, and I was glad I’d waited until I met him. “But I think I need some more…”

  His fingers froze against my entrance, his own come on the tips of his fingers. He stilled as he looked at me, his nostrils flaring slightly in arousal. There was nothing he liked more than listening to me ask him for more sex. He thrived on it. “I want you to do something for me first.”

  “Yes?”

  He grabbed my hand and placed it against my clit. “You fucked yourself when I was gone?”

  For the first month, I was too depressed to feel aroused, but as time passed, my pussy ached for the sex I used to get on a
daily basis. “Yes.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and refused to be ashamed of it. A woman was just as sexual as a man. I needed sex as much as he did. After the explosive and passionate relationship we had, I couldn’t get by on nothing.

  “You thought of me.” He didn’t ask it as a question, already knowing what my answer would be.

  “Always.”

  “Show me.”

  “No.” I kept my fingers between my legs but didn’t rub my clit. “I don’t want to pretend, not when I can have the real thing.”

  He repeated the command. “Show me and I’ll show you.”

  I pictured him touching himself, and my skin immediately flared with heat. With his big hand and big dick, it’d be sexy to watch the vein in his neck pop while he pleased himself, watch his breathing pick up as his balls tightened against his body. “Okay.” I turned on my back and let my knees fall apart before I rubbed my fingers against my clit in a circular motion. I could feel his come inside still, so touching myself immediately made me moan.

  He licked his palm before he circled his fingers around his length. Then he started to jerk himself hard, moving from his head to his balls.

  I watched him, seeing the fluid ooze from the top of his head. My fingers worked my clit harder, and my back arched with the pleasure. My hard nipples pointed to the ceiling, and I pulled my knees against my waist, widening my legs as I imagined his cock moving inside me.

  He jerked himself harder, his breathing filling the quietness of the room.

  “Griffin…” I wasn’t going to last much longer like this, not watching him jerk himself off. Everything he did was sexy, but watching him touch himself was even sexier. “I’m gonna come. But I wanna come around your dick instead.”

  He moved on top of me immediately, shoving his fat dick into my soaking pussy. “Fuck.” He pinned his arms behind my knees and thrust hard, his balls tapping against my ass. After a few pumps, he brought me to a climax.

  “Yes…” My toes curled, and I dragged my nails down his back. “Now give it to me.” I loved having an orgasm when I felt him throb inside me at the same time. I loved taking his come as I rode my high, feeling his seed fill my entire cavity.

  He came right on cue, filling me up with his come. He claimed me just the way he vowed to, by stuffing me with so much come that I always felt him inside me. When I went about my day, I always pitied the young women I came across, knowing they didn’t have what I had. They didn’t have a powerful man fucking them like it was the first time, every time. Bones always took me like it was a new experience, one he couldn’t get enough of. I always felt like the sexiest woman he’d ever seen, like there was no other woman in the world he’d rather be with.

  He spoke against my ear when he was finished. “Is that enough come, baby?” He started to soften inside me, but I was still stretched apart because of the size of his dick. There was plenty of come inside me, plenty of his seed that would last through the night.

  I gripped his shoulders and locked my ankles around his waist. “No. Not even close.”

  Five

  Crow

  Cane drank his scotch and rolled his eyes at the same time. “Just let it go. The guy doesn’t like us, and he’s not gonna change his mind. His family and the Barsettis are like oil and water—they don’t mix.” He set the glass down on the table in between us, his jaw tight with annoyance. “Leave it alone.”

  Button sat beside me, her legs crossed underneath her dress. She wore a deep blue dress that stopped above her knee. With her hair pulled back and her diamond earrings exposed, she had the grace of a queen.

  My queen.

  She’d aged like a fine wine, becoming more graceful and potent as the years wore on. Her confidence only heightened her beauty, and those sharp blue eyes never faded despite the decades of stress we’d both endured.

  She turned her gaze on me, silently beckoning me to address what my brother just said.

  It would be easy to give up—but not for me. “I’m not gonna stop. Not until water and oil finally mix.”

  “But they can’t mix,” Cane spat. “They always separate.”

  “Well, I’ll make it happen.”

  He shook his head as he refilled his glass. “Dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. And you've said a lot of dumb things over the past few decades…”

  Button narrowed her eyes on his face, her lips pressed tightly together. “Not nearly as many as you.”

  I couldn’t hide the slight grin that formed on my face. She was my wife, the person at my side forever. She always defended me even though I didn’t need her to do it. But she was also a member of this relationship, a sister to Cane who fit perfectly. We’d defeated Bones Sr. together, saved each other’s asses more times than I could count. It was the kind of bond that allowed insults to fly all the time.

  Crow swirled his glass before he shrugged. “True. But this is still stupid. You’ve made your attempt. We’ve got to move on. If he doesn’t want to be the bigger man, then whatever.”

  “Be the bigger man?” I set my glass on the table, my hands coming together. “He always was the bigger man. Despite the shit we put him through, he warned me about Conway. On top of that, he put his neck on the line and saved all of us.” I pointed between him and me. “We’d be dead right now if it weren’t for him. It would have been easy for him to ignore that information. I bet you he considered it for a moment. All he would have to do is wait for us to be killed off before he took Vanessa. We’d be out of the way for good, and he would get exactly what he wanted—Vanessa and the rest of us dead.”

  My brother held my gaze, still slightly swirling his drink.

  “He already was the bigger man.” My eyes moved to the table between us. “He proved it a million times over. I’m in debt to him for the rest of my damn life. I don’t even give a shit about my life that much, not compared to my only son.”

  “And mine?” he asked in offense.

  “You know what I mean,” I spat. “He saved my son. He saved my daughter-in-law. He saved my grandchild. It’s my turn to be the bigger man. It’s my turn to put up with his bullshit until I finally earn his respect.”

  Cane leaned back against the leather chair, his drink sitting on his thigh. A sigh erupted from his lips and filled the room.

  Button nodded. “Crow is right. We have to keep trying until we make it right.”

  “But he doesn’t want anything to do with us,” Cane said. “That’s the part you don’t understand. All he wants is Vanessa. He wants to be left alone. You trying to make this right is only annoying him. If you really want to respect him, just stop bothering him.”

  I shook my head. “No. I get that he’s angry at us, particularly me, but this needs to be mended. He’s a strong guy, but he needs more in life. He needs a place where he belongs. I never thought I would try to be a father figure to him…but that’s what he needs. That’s what Vanessa wants me to be for him.”

  “A father?” he asked incredulously. “The guy is thirty years old. He doesn’t need a father.”

  “My son needs me,” I countered. “When he was taken, I stepped into the open and prepared to die to save his life, just for the slim chance he could get away. When he didn’t know what to do about Sapphire, he came to me for advice. When he raises his kids, he’s going to come me. He needs me as much now as he did when he was a child, just in different ways. Carter and Carmen need you too.”

  Cane fell silent and drank his scotch.

  “Sometimes I think I make some progress with Griffin, but then we take ten steps back.” When I met him in the bar, it seemed like he was slowly opening up to me. It seemed like his walls were coming down. But then he came over for dinner, and that trigger went off and pushed him away all over again. “I asked Vanessa to ask him to meet me halfway, but she refused. She said she can’t ask any more from him, which I understand. So, I’m on my own.”

  Carter stared into his glass, swallowing his annoyance. “I hope I don’t go through a
nything like this with Carmen. I always make jokes about putting her in a nunnery, but Jesus, I’m serious now.”

  My only daughter dating my biggest enemy was the worst heartache I’d ever experienced. There was so much hate in my veins, so much frustration. It would have been so much easier if she’d just settled down with Matteo or Antonio, two fine gentlemen, either of whom would have made her happy. But she chose someone else, a man hard like me. “It’s not so bad, Cane. I know he would do anything for her, and that’s enough for me.”

  “If Carmen dated someone like him…” Cane shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “As much as I hate to admit, she found someone like me.” Griffin and I looked nothing alike, but we were similar in our hostility and mannerisms. He was fearless, strong, and passionate. With very little to say, he announced his presence in silence. After Button pointed out the similarities, I couldn’t stop seeing them. “Carmen might find someone like you.”

  Cane scoffed. “Over my dead body.”

  Button looked at him. “As much as we don’t want to admit it, Barsetti blood is tainted with blood and violence. We have a specific palate when it comes to our partners. We don’t want an average person. We need someone like us. Carmen probably wouldn’t be happy with an average man. She’ll likely always want an extraordinary one.”

  “That’s why the nunnery is such a good idea.” He downed the contents of his glass before he set it on the table. “Because my daughter is so damn beautiful. She looks like Adelina, but with Barsetti eyes and height.” He shook his head. “I wish she were ugly…”

  Button chuckled. “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, he does,” I said. “I’ve been there. But now that I know Vanessa’s going to spend her life with Griffin, I’m not worried about her. She has the perfect man to protect her. I never have to worry about her…and that’s all I wanted.”