But she didn’t know what he’d do if she told him what she wanted him to do. He might surprise her, as he’d done twice now, but if he didn’t, she’d be lying naked beneath an angry man.
He pushed in. Despite her inner turmoil, she was wet, and he slid smoothly in, filling her perfectly, going deep. He groaned, rumbling like a bear. Oh, he felt good. Oh, she wanted to come with him. So she decided to take care of things herself, and slid her hand between their bodies, between her legs, to finger her clit.
But he got hold of her and tried to pull her away. “I got you, G. You don’t need to do that.”
That was the second time he’d called her G—she didn’t know how she felt about it. But she set it aside for the bigger issue. “I do. I need to come.”
“And I got you. Trust me.”
She shook her head, and got another frown in response. This night was a complicated mess so far, but worth saving. So she tried to explain. “I’m not going to come this way. I’m just not. I need more.”
He surprised her yet again. “Then tell me what you need.”
Giada surprised herself when she felt her throat tighten with a sudden swell of emotion. She swallowed it down and slid her hands into Angie’s hair. “You surprise me.”
He grinned. “Well, then, turnabout’s fair play. I’ve been surprised all fuckin’ night.” He brought his head down and brushed his lips lightly over hers. “So what do you like?”
“I need multiple stimulation. Your cock feels great, but I need more. I need your hands and mouth, too. My clit, my nipples.”
His grin went wide. “You got it.”
When he yanked his hips back and pulled quickly out of her, Giada sucked in a shocked breath. She let it out when he grabbed her hips and flipped her over like a ragdoll. Manhandled was not what she’d meant, and as he pulled her hips up, she pushed up onto her hands and tried to turn around. “Ange—”
His name broke off in her mouth as he pushed in again, going much deeper this time, making her cry out at the burst of pleasure. But she didn’t want this, either. Being held face down while she got fucked like a dog? No.
From behind was fine. Hell, a few weeks ago, she’d been sandwiched between and double-penetrated by two very virile male escorts and had loved every second of it. She’d come four times. But they’d been there on her terms, following her instructions. This was ... no.
“Angie,” she gasped and tried to get leverage.
Then he hooked his arms under hers and pulled her up to her knees. When her back met his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and tucked his head at her shoulder, his mouth at her ear. He was so much bigger than she, surrounding her in his heat.
“Easy, belladonna. Easy. You told me what you like.” He flexed his hips, back and forth, out and in, giving the in an extra little lift. She couldn’t help but moan and quiver at the sensation. “Now trust me to give it to you. Trust me.”
Trust was not a thing she gave easily. But Angie’s hands moved on her, one taking possession of a breast, slipping the nipple between his fingers, the other easing down her belly, between her legs.
He found her clit at once, as if he’d been there before, gave her nipple a gentle-hard pinch at the same time, and Giada cried out again as his touch seared her.
Angie was leading this dance, but now, for now, she stopped fighting him, let him have control.
Gave him her trust.
She arched up into the pleasure of his possession, threw her arms back, looped them around his head and neck, and held on.
Strong fingers moved deftly over her most sensitive points, teasing, pinching, firm pressure and soft, varying but constant, bringing her to the brink and pulling her back. All the while his cock pistoned inside her, his hips never seeming to leave contact with her body and yet the slide inside her long and powerful.
How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to be transported by sex—to simply rest on the waves of pleasure and let them carry her along? Had she ever? She couldn’t think, and didn’t want to try.
With her mind lost to lust, unfettered pleasure surged faster, higher, bigger than she was prepared for. She heard herself talking, but not the way she usually did, delivering instructions, offering encouragement. Now she was moaning, grunting, pleading, chanting—she was speaking in tongues, the sounds incomprehensible but full of meaning.
His mouth had settled in at the side of her neck. He sucked and bit and licked along the path from her shoulder to her ear, letting her hear what this act was doing to him, too—the rough strafe of his breath, the wild snarl of each grunt.
He fucked her with his whole body and never faltered, never failed her. When her climax crested hugely, crashing through her in waves of fire, she cried, “I’m coming, I’m coming! Fuck, I’m coming!”
“Yeah, you are, doll,” he gritted at her ear. “Yeah, you are. And fuck, it’s beautiful.”
The force of her spasms jackknifed her forward, and Angie followed her body’s momentum, bringing them both down to the bed, turning them to their sides, crossways on the mattress. His hands on her were softer now, settling her.
When the last washes of her release were on her, and her body was like an exposed nerve everywhere, she pressed her hands over his. “Stop, stop.”
He stopped, and they lay there, spooned together, sweaty and panting. His hands still held her, and her hands rested over his.
After a time, just as Giada’s analytical mind began to dig at this event, to try to sort out the pieces and understand them, she realized how full she felt.
Angie was still hard. In fact, now that her wits had returned to their proper places, she could feel the tension in his body. He was not experiencing the same post-coital lethargy she was.
She looked over her shoulder. He smiled when she did, but she saw the restraint tinting the warm tone of his skin with a hot flush.
“You didn’t come?”
He shook his head. “I was focused on you.”
And yet another surprise. Angelo Corti, well known lothario, was the kind of lover who put himself second?
Giada felt a strange twist in her chest. “Do you want to come?”
He chuckled. The tremor of it was an aftershock rippling out from her core. “Yeah, I really do.”
She rocked her hips forward so he slipped quickly out of her. The shocked groan that burst from his chest was like a cry of pain. Giada turned to face him and shoved hard on his shoulders. He was too big for her to move on her own, but he let her have her way, and rolled to his back.
She straddled his hips and grinned down at this surprising man.
“Then I’m going to make you come.”
~ 9 ~
Giada lowered herself onto his cock, and Angie thought he’d go crazy with the feel of her.
He hadn’t fucked a woman in six months—he hadn’t been able to fuck a woman in six months—and the shock of this turnaround was a steady beat beneath every second since he’d realized he could.
He knew the exact moment when his cock had gotten back in sync with his head and put the past to rest—Giada had said something about living in the same world, and he’d seen it. She wasn’t an innocent. She knew what this life was. He wasn’t a danger to her, because she was already in danger.
He’d felt that dawning like a lock releasing, and he’d known right then he could fuck her.
It was still dangerous, reckless, maybe stupid. Nick had expressly said he didn’t want them this close, and Angie hadn’t cleared this change of plan with him first. Even if Nick agreed with Giada’s thinking, he’d make Angie eat this night.
But for now, Angie could finally fuck a woman again, and he wanted to fuck this one. He was willing to face Nick’s censure to have her, for this night at least.
But fucking Giada had been, at first, like fucking a feral cat. She’d come to him, seduced him, and yet once he’d given in, her body had been full of tension and resistance, even while she’d participated. He’d had a hell of a
time getting hold of her.
Giada Sacco was a control freak. Made sense, really. What other kind of woman would have the huge ambition she had—to change their whole world—and the will to chase it?
Yet there had been something more than mere bossiness making her tense. Something more hesitant. He’d used that hint of understanding to change things between them. She didn’t trust him, but she wanted to. So he’d shown her she could.
Holy fuck, when she’d finally let go and gotten into it, she’d been breathtaking.
And he was about to herniate himself holding back, after all this time.
She loomed over him now, mounted on him, and Angie clasped her hips, holding her still. He wanted to see her, watch her, feel her. He was close, and nearly dying with need, but he wasn’t ready yet.
She was fucking gorgeous. Both soft and firm, her hips curved and her waist narrow, her belly sleek, those magnificent breasts so plump and pert, their areolas brown and almost perfectly round, the nipples high and hard. Her skin was paler than his, and he liked the contrast where his hands held her, and the rosy flush across her chest and over her cheeks.
Those cheeks, that face, curtained with her dark hair so that her pale green eyes gleamed in its shadow. Damn.
Angie’s sweet spot was women in their thirties—that had been true in his late teens, all his twenties, his thirties, and through his forties, until now, shortly before he left that decade behind. Since high school, he’d rarely been with anyone younger than mid-thirties, and never with anyone older. Until now. Since he’d left his thirties, he’d considered women his age too old for him. Until now.
Giada took his hands and lifted them from her hips. He didn’t resist her. She set them on her breasts, and his fingers closed around their shape, his palms took their weight, delighted at the hard knots of her tender nipples.
She began to rock her hips.
“Ah fuck,” he muttered as her rhythm stirred his need to a frenzy. His eyes tried to close, but he wanted to see this, see her eyes, her body, its dance.
He’d held off so long, had been without so long, that, now let loose, his climax charged forward, threatening to overtake his will. She wasn’t close, and he wanted her to come again, so he played with a breast and dropped one hand to her pussy, brushed his thumb through the slim landing strip of trim black hair, and went for her clit again.
But she grabbed his hand, grabbed the other one from her breast, shoved them both to the bed at either side of his head, held them down at the wrists and loomed over him so her breasts brushed his chest and her face was only inches from his. Her body took on a faster, more determined pace, gaining speed and intensity until her ass slammed onto his legs so hard each slap cracked in the air around them.
She was fucking him.
He could take over, flip her, take control again, but he didn’t want to. This was hot as hell. All he wanted was to come—inside her, no condom, no distance, just them. Fire and need.
Wanting her mouth, he raised his head, and that, she gave him, meeting him and pushing him back down as their lips clashed.
The finish nailed him like an electric shock, destroying his control, and he turned his head and roared. Giada rode him through it, keeping him at the peak until he couldn’t take any more. He freed his arms from her grip with a firm yank, grabbed her, and rolled them over, pulling out as he did.
She hadn’t come again, yet she stared up at him, breathless and shocked.
Angie felt pretty fucking rocked himself.
“Jesus Christ, G,” he said in a rush, trying to catch his breath.
She didn’t speak. But when he dropped to her side and rolled to his back, still searching for some equilibrium, she turned to him. He lifted his arm, and she settled her head on his chest. Angie’s heart steadied, and calm filled him.
They were lying crosswise on the bed, on top of the comforter. He’d been restless and hot before, but now he was spent and sweaty, and the air chilled his skin. At the same time he noticed that, Giada shivered lightly.
He reached for the top of the comforter and pulled it over to cover them both.
She still hadn’t spoken. But she set her hand on his belly and sighed sweetly, and he felt her body soften into restfulness.
Exhausted, Angie closed his eyes.
~oOo~
His phone was ringing. He threw an arm out, expecting to find a nightstand and the offending device, but he grabbed a pillow instead. Prying open his eyes as he lifted his head, he blinked into the dim, unfamiliar space. The fuck?
Usually Angie woke briskly and fully aware, ready for anything, but now he felt like he’d lost a game of chicken with a steamroller. And his fucking phone was still ringing.
He sat up and located the direction of the racket. Nowhere near the bed, which he was lying crosswise on.
His brain caught up. Right. New York City. The Ritz. Marconi wedding.
Giada.
A quick swivel showed him he was alone. As he made his way to his feet, he did a scan in the dim room—drapes drawn but morning glinting at the edges—for her sexy, silky red lingerie. Gone. And those little red slippers with the glittery heels, too.
Normally that was a relief, waking up alone after he’d had a woman in his bed. But now he was unsettled. They were supposed to be pretending to get serious, right? So why had she left? How did that tell the story she wanted to tell?
That had to be the reason he felt weird—just confused.
But his goddamn phone was still going. Where was it? Ah, right. His jacket.
As he headed to the chair he’d laid it on, the ringing stopped. Angie dug into the inner pocket and pulled the phone out.
First, it was almost ten in the morning. Holy shit. Angie couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept that late, unless he’d gone to bed after dawn.
Second, that call had been Nick. Fuck. He returned it at once.
Nick answered without a greeting. “We’re in my room with breakfast. Now.”
“On my way.”
There was no answer; Nick was already gone. Which meant he was pissed. Did he know? Already?
His sluggish brain began to spin unevenly. Angie got his ass moving, went to the bathroom, did a quick pass with a washcloth to clean the sex off of him, splashed water over his face, rinsed his mouth, and went to grab his pants and shirt from last night. It wasn’t ideal, showing up in half of his rumpled tux, but he didn’t have time to get fully dressed.
~oOo~
Ari and Bev were at the table with Nick and Donnie, and Angie relaxed a little to see it. Nick wouldn’t bring business up with the women around. He kissed Bev’s cheek and Ari’s and slid into the empty seat.
Room service had brought up what appeared to be a full buffet, with chafing dishes of hash browns, scrambled eggs, pancakes, and various toasted breads; a basket of assorted muffins; and a large bowl of fruit. There was coffee, tea, and orange juice, and a full complement of condiments and add-ins.
“Sorry I’m late. I overslept.”
“That’s unlike you,” Nick said.
“I know. Mi dispiace.” He didn’t know how to explain.
The others were almost finished eating. Not actually hungry, but knowing Nick hated people to sit at a meal and not eat, he made himself a quick plate.
“Everything good?” Donnie asked.
“Yeah, good. Five by five.”
The unsaid hung heavily over the table. Bev picked up on it quickly and said, “Ari, why don’t we go next door for a while.”
“Um ... sure,” Donnie’s wife answered.
Nick reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand. “Thank you, bella.”
When the women left the room, Nick turned to Angie. “Tell me.”
Angie had never lied to Nick in his life.
He’d felt this kind of discomfort once or twice before, sitting before the don, holding knowledge he knew Nick would hate. The first time, many years ago, the knowledge had been a burgeoning mutiny in the organi
zation, a plan to overthrow him. Angie had been no part of the betrayal; he’d simply learned of it and brought the news to his don. But then, when he’d been only a soldier, before he’d known Nick well, before they’d become friends, he’d been prepared—afraid, but prepared—to face the fate of the messenger.
Instead, Nick had pulled him up, made him capo, eventually brought him into his tiny inner circle.
The second time, a couple years back, a hit had gone wrong and a little boy had died at their hands. Nick had shut both him and Donnie out for weeks after that.
This time, the knowledge Nick would hate was that Angie had acted outside his orders. He didn’t know how to say those words.
But he’d never lied to Nick in his life, so he didn’t lie now.
“I was with Giada last night.”
Both Nick and Donnie nodded, like they were hearing nothing new. Angie imagined the conversation don and underboss had already had that morning—about him.
“I told you I didn’t want you getting that close to her,” Nick said.
“I know. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”
Nick chuckled without humor. Donnie studied his coffee.
“Who told you?” It was a blazingly stupid question to ask, but Angie was racking his brain. Had one of the guards given him up? Those guards were his guys—they were Nick’s, of course, but Angie was their capo. He’d recruited them, trained them, advised them, disciplined them when they needed it. It was him who’d built a relationship with them. If they gave him up so quickly, he had to think about that.
Or had it been Giada? Had she left him and gone straight to Nick? If so, what was her game? Was he just some stupid pawn?
“Why does it matter?” Nick asked. “Had you planned to keep it from me?”
“No, Nick. Of course not. But I expected to be able to tell you myself.”
Nick stared hard at him. Angie felt pinned. But he held his gaze steady.
The Name of Honor Page 11
