Savage Prince (DeSantis Mafia Book 2)

by S. Massery

  I snort. “I’ve been in the life.”

  “Not to this degree.” He cups my cheek.

  “Are you going to take me away from this place?” I put my hand over his.

  He begins to clean my face, my neck. I even have blood on my legs that he sweeps the wet cloth over. He rinses it a few times, warming the water before returning it to my skin. I let him maneuver me like a doll because I’m fascinated with the way he’s staring at me.

  “I want to,” he says. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  Heat curls in my belly, and I’m struck with desire. Foolish, really, to want someone when I should run screaming in the opposite direction.

  “Aiden?” I whisper.

  He meets my gaze.

  “Make me forget?” I don’t wait for his answer—or his protesting. I put my hands on either side of his head and pull him closer. I kiss him softly, hesitantly. This isn’t me—I’m not the instigator. Well, I am today. I press deeper, willing him to react.

  He inhales and straightens, tossing the towel into the sink. His hands slide up my back, drawing me closer, and our kiss deepens. When our tongues meet, sparks ricochet behind my eyelids. I wrap my arms around his neck and lock my ankles behind him.

  Aiden picks me up off the counter and carries me upstairs, managing to do it without breaking our kiss. He drops me on the bed and tugs my shoes off. Then my panties. Bra. By now, I can’t deny that I like him. Saying I don’t would just be foolish. It’s my heart’s problem that I do like him so much, and my brain’s biggest dilemma.

  I lie on the bed completely naked, and he’s still fully dressed. I lick my lips, waiting for his next move. In this area, I’m still unsure. A naïve girl.

  He removes his t-shirt. I sit up and yank his pants down, his briefs going with them, and I stare for a moment at his erect cock. It bobs in my face, and I automatically reach for it. This… this I can do. I don’t know why it grounds me so much, having something familiar between us.

  He groans when I wrap my lips around his head, pumping him with my hand.

  His fingers tangle in my hair, and I take him as far into my mouth as I can. His tip hits the back of my throat. I swirl my tongue, sucking hard, until his grip on the back of my head smarts.

  It only goes on for a few moments, then he pulls me up to him. His kiss is bruising. My teeth snag his lower lip, biting hard enough to draw blood, and he growls.

  He guides me back to the bed and hovers over me. His cock is lined up at my entrance, and my breath catches. His eyes bore into mine, then he leans down and kisses my cheek. Jaw. Little nips that send electricity flooding through me. His fingers find my clit. I gasp, clawing his shoulders.

  “Say what you want, princess,” he demands, pushing two fingers into me.

  “I want you to fuck me.” I arch into his fingers. “I want… you. Aiden, please.”

  He lowers himself, latching on to my nipple. He works magic on my clit, and there’s too much sensation. My orgasm shatters over me, and a metallic taste fills my mouth when Aiden’s lips return to mine.

  Before I’ve come down from my high, he thrusts into me.

  I gasp and grip his neck. He isn’t gentle about it—I don’t want gentle. I didn’t ask for lovemaking, and he doesn’t give that to me. If he had, I don’t think I would be able to go through with it. This is more about how I don’t want to feel everything else brewing behind the lust.

  He rocks forward, fully seated inside me, and the sensation is a mixture of pain and a foreign type of pleasure. I want both.

  He doesn’t wait for me to be okay with it. He pulls out and slams back in, and I scream. I leave marks on his skin as he fucks me, hitting a deep spot inside me. I raise my hips to meet him and turn my face into his neck. I kiss his jaw, down his throat. My teeth catch his skin, biting hard enough to draw blood again.

  I feel like a wild animal.

  “Fuck,” he growls. “You feel so fucking good.”

  He withdraws suddenly, and I yelp. But he isn’t done—far from it, I’d guess. He flips me onto my stomach and yanks my hips up. My ass is in the air, my face pressed to the mattress.

  “Hold on,” he says.

  I reach forward and curl my fingers around the mattress lip just as he thrusts back into me. I scream again, my body unaccustomed to his cock. My eyes shut of their own accord. He pounds into me, and all I can do is hold on. He reaches around and finds my clit again.

  “Aiden,” I moan.

  “Fuck, Gemma,” he replies. His pace increases. The whole bed shakes, the frame slamming into the wall.

  He slaps my ass with his free hand, and I tip over the edge. It’s different this time, continuing on and on. My pussy clenches around him, and he lets out a roar before stilling inside me.

  Holy shit.

  He immediately slides out and rolls me onto my back, coming down on top of me. His gaze takes in my expression, and his finger slides inside me again.

  “Do you feel my cum inside you?”

  Panic whips through me. “Aiden—”

  He massages it into my clit, and his lips attack mine in a kiss that makes my heart skip. His other hand glides up my side, stopping just under my breast. I shudder and shove at his wrist. Two orgasms have me feeling weak—another isn’t possible.

  “You’re perfect. Another day, I’ll wrench three from you.” His lips move on mine, our breath mingling. He lays on his side and takes me with him, wrapping his arms around me. “But we need to clean you up.”

  I hum, satiated and exhausted. My mind has already skipped to pregnancy, even though I’ve had the implant for almost six months. Obviously, I haven’t had a need for it, and there’s a part of my brain that doubts it actually works. As if he can read my mind, his thumb brushes over the inside of my upper arm.

  I go still. “How did you know that was there?”

  He smirks. “I know more about you than you’d think. Like, that you got your wisdom teeth out a year ago. They got infected. And then you had a hospital scare—was it your appendix?”

  My jaw drops. “You’re a fully fledged stalker.”

  “I knew I wanted you, Gemma West.” He runs his thumb over the implant in a lazy way. “I won’t apologize for it. Although this will have to come out at some point.”

  “I—”

  “I want you pregnant,” he says, his gaze dropping to my stomach. “Someday.”

  There’s nothing I can say to that. Nothing I want to say besides an automatic denial… yet, I keep my mouth shut. My face is probably a shade of red close to a tomato, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He hops out of bed and helps me up. My core aches, and for the first time I look down. Blood is smeared between my legs, mixing with his cum as it seeps out.

  I shiver.

  “You okay?”

  I eye him. He’s gloriously naked, the twisting skull tattoo on his chest capturing my attention. He’s handsome enough that it hurts. There are new scratches on his neck and chest that stand out against the old ones, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seems rather smug.

  And he’s waiting for an answer.

  “It’s just a lot of blood for one day,” I manage.

  He nods. “You’re right.”

  “Music to my ears.”

  The tub sits in its own corner, away from the standing shower we usually use. It’s a mammoth, and for a split second, I wonder why I didn’t take advantage of it before. Maybe it’s because I hate baths—oh, yeah, that’s why.

  I balk when he pulls the stopper and the basin fills. But he ignores my look, and it fills in record time. He tests the water, then steps in. He’s got a firm grip on my wrist, keeping me from running, but I don’t expect him to sit.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Enjoying your discomfort.” He grins. “Get in.”

  “I…”

  “Get in the water, Gemma.”

  “Fine.” I step in and lower myself. The water is almost too hot, but my muscles immediately loos
en. I let out a sigh and lean back opposite him.

  He takes my foot into his lap, and I jerk back. The water sloshes, but he holds fast. I stare at him as he rubs the ball of my foot, massaging it. I can’t stop staring, even when I relax farther into the water. It’s up to my chin now, and I can’t say I have much worry.

  I close my eyes.

  My mouth and nose dip below the water, and I surge up with a gasp.

  “Come here.” His expression is filled with light. Not happiness, but something closer to contentment. In this moment, anyway.

  I glare at him like it’s his fault I almost drowned. But he seems nonplussed, and in fact, there’s a spark in his gaze. Like he can see through me. Sex has not broken down all our barriers. I refuse to believe in the cliché that sex would make us closer.

  Physically, yes. Emotionally? Not so much.

  Still, I crawl into his embrace and wrap my arms around his neck.

  His kiss on the corner of my lips is tender.

  “We can’t keep doing this, you know,” I whisper.

  “Which part?”

  “The sweet part.”

  He scoffs. “My temporary truce extends to you, too, princess. That’s what today is.”

  He turns me until my back is against his front. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes again, trusting that he’ll keep me above the water. He grabs a washcloth and squirts soap onto it, then sweeps it down my front. He cleans my thighs, my stomach and chest. The cloth swirls under and around my breasts.

  “When will it end?” The truce, I mean, although I’m not sure I have to clarify it to him.

  He’s quiet.

  “Aiden,” I prod.

  “After.”

  I suck my lower lip between my teeth and chew on it. After what? I want to ask, but on some deeper level, I don’t want to know. This sort of affection is completely new—and I like it. I like the way I feel when he touches me like this.

  Something must be wrong with my brain.

  But maybe we’ll go back to normal tomorrow. We’ll get up and remember that we’re supposed to be on two different sides of this war.

  My family…

  My throat closes.

  What must they be doing right now? Did Colin tell them?

  “Breathe,” Aiden says in my ear.

  “I can’t.” There’s a weight on my chest, and a yawning black hole in front of me. I’m on the edge of it, teetering above the dark. My parents are gone—snuffed out. My cousin.

  It’s just Colin and me left. Yes, there are others. Aunts, my uncle in prison, others who fight for the West name. We’re a relatively small blood family. It was our connections and lifelong friendships that secured us.

  Will they drift away now that Dad is gone?

  Has Jameson succeeded in decimating the Wests?

  Aiden holds me upright and rubs my back. I cover my face with my hands and let out a ragged exhale.

  “I’m fine,” I argue. “No need to pity the orphaned princess.”

  “I’m not pitying you.”

  I turn back, ready to reply, but his expression is sincere. He’s concerned, maybe. I don’t know because I’ve never seen that look in his eye before. The one where he might just set the whole world on fire because I’m upset.

  “I imagine I’ll catch a lot of pity in the next few weeks,” I mutter. “Not by your family, of course, but… others. Outside.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you think the headlines will read? ‘Head of the West family found dead’ or maybe ‘West orphan married to her family’s enemy?’ I can’t decide.” I need to focus on something else. Anything else.

  I press my lips to his. He obliges me for a moment, then breaks away and tips his forehead down to rest against mine.

  “We’ll keep you busy tomorrow.” He lifts me out of the water and puts me on my feet, then wraps me in a towel. He takes his time rubbing it over my body.

  “I can do it.” I try to take it from him.

  “I know.” But he doesn’t stop until he’s dried every inch of my skin, then he quickly towels himself off and leads me to bed.

  I pause at the blood spot on the sheet.

  He rolls his eyes and removes the offending sheet, folding it and setting it aside. He throws on a new one, then drags the comforter back into place and motions for me to get into bed.

  It’s barely evening. But I don’t complain when he slides in behind me and hits the button on the sheer version of the shades, rolling them up. We stare out the windows at the sunset. The sky is a mix of cobalt blue and bright orange.

  My stomach growls.

  Aiden’s lips touch my shoulder, and he types something one-handed on his phone. I raise my eyebrows but say nothing. I don’t have anything left to give—and that includes curiosity. We stay in our embrace until his cell chimes again.

  “Stay here,” he orders.

  He rises and grabs his pants from the floor, sliding them on mid-motion.

  I watch his ass as he rounds the corner and disappears downstairs.

  His cell is right there, and I’ve never wanted to grab it more. I could call Colin again, see if he’s okay. At least check on him, at any rate. But before I can make that decision, Aiden returns with a bag and two beers.

  “The restaurant made us grilled cheeses,” he says.

  I smile.

  “And the beers are to take the edge off.”

  He climbs back into bed beside me and pops the tops off the bottles. I examine mine before I take a sip, immediately wincing. It’s not the greatest taste. Bitter. But it’s cold, and I’m suddenly parched. I swallow another big mouthful, then set it aside.

  He opens the containers and hands me one.

  We dig in, and my hunger roars out of nowhere. I eat quickly and then lean back, nursing the beer. Aiden finishes his and wipes his mouth, leaning back, too.

  “I had the opposite reaction when Mom died,” I tell him.

  He squeezes my leg.

  “When she…” I swallow. “I was a mess. I screamed and cried. Threw stuff. Threatened to burn down the hospital.” I choke on my laugh, remembering my father’s appalled face. “For seventeen years, I followed their rules. And suddenly I was acting like…”

  He presses a featherlight kiss to my shoulder.

  “My brother was the quiet one. I don’t know if he was in shock, or I was just being too loud for him to have his own reaction. I do know that in the last eighteen months, he’s dove deeper into the family businesses. The legal ones,” I add, eyeing Aiden. “He took over some of the clubs we own. He got quiet, but I thought he was okay.”

  I stare at the ceiling.

  “But now I feel like the quiet one, and I don’t think I’m okay. If I’m like this now… why did Colin suffer in silence back then?”

  Aiden brushes a tear from my cheek. “He might’ve been talking to other people. Blowing off steam… productively.”

  I turn to him suddenly. “Your mom. Where is she?”

  “Out of the picture.”

  I bite my lip. Aiden narrows his eyes until I release it, and he sweeps his thumb over my mouth. He’s been much more touchy lately.

  I don’t have a problem with it. That must be my trauma talking.

  He doesn’t say anything else, instead pulling me onto his lap. I curl my arm around his neck and meet his gaze.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I’m just wondering how you’re not falling apart.” He raises one shoulder. “You’re tougher than I gave you credit for, princess.”

  I roll my eyes. “Just keep me distracted. But honestly? I could sleep for a week and not come up for air.”

  “Okay.”

  He clears off the takeout containers and returns to the room with bottles of water. I take a few gulps and then hunker down, facing the windows again.

  He fits in behind me, draping his arm across my bare stomach. Was it just a few days ago that I didn’t want him to touch me? In our temporary truce, I seem to crav
e his touch. I would crawl inside his skin if he let me.

  But no—he’s dealing with death, too. There’s a pang in my chest at that realization. Foolish girl. I’ve been so fixated on my own issues that I never stopped to think about Aiden’s grief. Only his revenge. Only how it affected me.

  I stifle a sob, covering my mouth with my hand.

  I’m horrified at my own selfishness.

  He misinterprets me, though. He kisses my bare shoulder, up my neck, until my body relaxes back against him. I let out a slow breath of tension, but I can’t get the words out. What would I say? An apology for Wilder?

  It doesn’t seem good enough.

  “Sleep,” he whispers.

  I close my eyes and follow his command. And I’ll deal with death tomorrow.

  18

  Gemma

  I wake alone and promptly burst into tears. There was a handful of seconds right before this moment where I forgot that Dad was gone. And then the tragedy of it came rushing back like a tidal wave, knocking down my defenses before I could fortify myself.

  It takes me too long to get ahold of myself, and I sit up. My eyes hurt.

  Aiden isn’t here, but he kept the shades pulled down for me. Even still, the sky seems gloomy.

  I reach over and hit the button. The shades retract, revealing rain-streaked windows. A flash of lightning illuminates the sky, followed quickly by a crack of thunder.

  Suddenly, the mattress is too… comfortable. I can’t sit here while my father is on a cold slab in the county morgue. I slide out of bed and grab Aiden’s shirt from the floor. Once it’s on, I crawl toward the window and lean against it. My forehead touches the cold glass.

  Goosebumps break out down my arms, and I pull my legs up to my chest.

  “You were crying in your sleep,” Aiden says.

  I glance over my shoulder. He’s in the doorway with two mugs. His black t-shirt clings to his chest, and the gray sweatpants make my stomach swoop. He seems to absorb my mental state in one look, because his expression softens.

  “It’s okay to cry.” He sets one mug in front of me, then sits beside me. He leans his back against the window. “I used to cry. Right after Mom left. In the shower, where my brothers couldn’t hear me.”