by Jane Henry
He released her waist, and she gave a little mewl of protest, but he tugged her along with one hand, grabbing the food he’d purchased with the other, until they’d come to the master bedroom, his room, decorated in greens and blues, with simple, almost spartan furnishings.
He let go of her hand and pointed to the bed. “Sit up on the bed and kick off your shoes. Get comfy, honey. I’ll get us something to drink.”
She dropped her shoes on the floor and climbed up onto the bed, sitting back against the bunches of pillows. He came in the room, carrying a tray with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and sparkling water.
“Wine?” he asked.
“Sure,” she shrugged. “But I’m more of a beer drinker.”
He barked out a laugh, and slid the tray on the bedside table. “I hate wine. I drink whiskey or beer, but figured you, being the more refined one, would like wine.”
She smiled at his honesty, and nodded. “I don’t drink very often,” she confessed, shrugging one shoulder. “I guess it’s natural when your mom drinks alcohol like water.”
He frowned. “Yeah,” he said. “My parents’ church didn’t believe in drinking.” He laughed mirthlessly. “But, the fact that I do drink would be the least of the sins I commit.”
She didn’t speak at first as he uncorked the bottle and poured the golden liquid into a wine glass, the smell of fermented grapes wafting in the room. He lifted it to his mouth and sipped, then grimaced. “God, this is shit.”
Nora laughed out loud. “Then keep it and I’ll use it to cook with.”
He cocked a brow. “You cook?”
“Um, well. I can make about three things. But those three things are delicious. Even Tony likes them.”
Tony, her sister’s Tessa’s husband, owned Cara, one of the most successful Italian restaurants in the North End. He had impeccable taste when it came to food. Just before Nora had graduated high school, Tony and Tessa had welcomed Nora into their apartment to live so she could escape her abusive mother, and Nora had come to accept Tony as her older brother.
“Eh, get the Angelico brothers hungry enough, they’ll eat anything,” he teased, lifting the glass to his lips and taking another sip. He grimaced, and she laughed.
“Hey,” she said. “Works for me. Um, I’m taking it that you’re not getting into the wine?”
“Swill,” he said, putting the glass down on the table. “Want some?”
“You tell me it’s swill and offer me some? Is that any way to woo a girl?” she teased, as he opened the sparkling water and poured it into the empty wine glass.
He looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “Honey, I don’t need alcohol to woo this girl,” he said.
She laughed out loud as he handed her the glass. “Is that so, Captain Confident?”
He placed a sandwich on her plate, and opened the bag of chips, placing a few beside the sandwich. “You’ll see, mija,” he said. He handed her the plate, and her stomach growled. She waited until he fixed his and sat up next to her in bed. “Eat, Nora,” he said.
She lifted the sandwich and peeked at it. Looked like some sorta chicken Caesar salad wrap. Growing up with a mother who questioned every single thing she ate, Nora sometimes felt uncomfortable eating in front of other people, but she worked hard at being normal about it. “Okay,” she said, watching him as he swallowed a large bite of his sandwich.
His eyes sobered and he swallowed. “When we’re alone? That’s yes, Daddy.”
Her pulse spiked and she took a sip of water to swallow her nerves. “Yes, Daddy.”
As they ate, he asked her about Centered, and Tessa, and how things were going with Tony and Tessa’s little family. After she finished her sandwich and washed it down with a good amount of water, she felt better. Her focus was clearer now.
“Good girl,” he said, taking her plate from her. She wasn’t used to being served like this, and she wasn’t quite sure how it made her feel. “You ready for dessert?” he asked.
“I’m full after that,” she said. “I was actually thinking I could take a nap now.” And just to accentuate her teasing, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows. She was tired, but she was in no mood to rest.
“Diego!” she squealed, as seconds later he pounced, both hands at her wrists, holding them down on the bed while his mouth came to her ear.
“Take a nap?” he asked. “You little brat. I ought to spank your ass just for suggesting it.” The threat, delivered in his deep baritone, traipsing along her skin like molten lava, made her moan out loud.
“Would you spank me, Daddy?” she asked.
“Damn right I would,” he said. “You know better than that now, don’t you?”
She grinned. “Yup.”
“I think maybe I ought to wake you up,” he whispered in her ear. “Maybe I should strip you, and take you across my knee. I should spank you until you scream for mercy. Redden that ass and teach you to obey your daddy.”
“Mmmm,” she moaned. “I’ll be good, Daddy.”
“I bought some berries and whipped cream,” he said. “You stay right here.” He released her wrists and, when he stood, he adjusted himself. She giggled and he only fixed with her a stern look as he leaned down, stretched her legs out and pressed her wrists into the bed. “You, young lady,” he said. “Stay right. There.”
He got up and left the room and she heard him padding to the kitchen before he rummaged through the refrigerator. Her nose itched a bit but she dared not move, conscious of her wrists on his clean, cool sheets, her legs spread out on the bed, and as she lay there she became aware of the weight of her clothes on her body, the throbbing of her pussy, and her dry mouth. She closed her eyes and tipped her head to the side as she waited for him, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took and released.
“Good girl,” she heard, his deep voice making her nipples tighten and her tummy dip. She opened her eyes, and he stood in the doorway, leaning against it, watching her.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, eyeing her before pushing off the doorway and into the room, one side of his beautiful mouth quirking up as he prowled over to her, his bare feet noiselessly moving across the hardwood floor. “Did you stay there exactly like Daddy told you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, Daddy. Of course I did.”
“Ah. A very good girl,” he said, coming over to the bed. He placed a bowl of berries next to her, and the can of whipped cream next to it. She eyed him, her heartbeat accelerating, her breath quickening. If this were anyone else, she’d laugh at him, thinking the whole whipped-cream-in-bed thing sounded trite or silly. But with Diego, there was no trite and definitely not silly.
His voice dropped, and the humor left his face. “Don’t forget what Daddy told you,” he said. “Stay right there. No matter what, baby, you don’t move or I will take off my belt. Yeah?”
She swallowed hard and nodded. He would.
He gave one curt nod in reply. “Good girl.” He knelt next to her and grasped the edge of her top, slowly lifting it and exposing a little strip of bare skin at her belly. His eyes heated and he dipped his face low, lapping at the bare skin with a slow, warm swipe of his tongue. She gasped, but kept her hands in position. His gaze met hers, his mouth so close to her sensual parts that the pounding of her heart beat harder, faster, and he slowly lifted her top even higher, exposing more skin.
He placed both hands on either side of her torso, kneeling on the bed, letting the scruff of his beard scrape along her naked skin. “So beautiful,” he said, raising her top high enough to expose her bra. “Lift your hands, baby,” he said. She arched her back, and he took her top off. He tossed it to the floor, where it crumpled in a heap, and when he came back, he began to unfasten the front clasp of her bra. Her breath became labored and choppy, and her chest rose and fell as she fought to keep her position. With a snap, her bra came undone, and her breasts spilled free as he took her in with greedy eyes. “Christ,” he said in a low voice, c
upping her breasts and puckering her nipples with the pad of his thumb. He swallowed hard, and suddenly, she felt beautiful.
“Stay there, honey,” he said, grabbing the can of whipped cream and giving it a shake before tearing the top off. “You like whipped cream?” he asked. She giggled.
“Um, yes, Daddy,” she said.
“Excellent,” he said. He knelt on the bed, leaned over and painted her naked breasts with the whipped cream. She gasped from the cold, but didn’t move as he lowered his body on hers and lapped at the cream, pulling one nipple wholly into his mouth and sucking.
“Oh my God,” she said, her hips jerking, and then he went to the next nipple and licked her clean, pulling her nipple into his mouth a second time.
“Ah, good girl,” he said. “Got a little worried there. Thought I’d have to spank you.”
She shook her head from side to side. “No, Daddy,” she choked. “I’ll be good.” He grinned, pushing off the bed and grabbing the bowl of berries. He took one and popped it into his mouth, then swallowed as she watched him with rapt attention.
“Want one, baby?” he asked. She nodded. Kneeling on the bed, he leaned over and dangled a plump berry over her mouth. “Say please,” he said, shaking his head from side to side. “Only polite little girls get what they want.”
“Please?” she asked and his eyes narrowed, as he shook his head from side to side. “Please, Daddy?” she amended, and he grinned. He placed the strawberry in her mouth. It burst with tart sweetness as she chewed and swallowed.
“Good girl,” he said. “Open up.” She did, and he squirted whipped cream in her mouth, then seconds later, his mouth came to hers and he sucked on her lower lip, licking the cream off her mouth. “So sweet,” he mumbled. “Delicious.” His tongue plundered hers as he straddled her, lowering his body against hers and grinding against her, his rock hard erection between her legs, and even with him fully clothed, she felt her need rising.
He pulled back and smiled at her. “You’re such a good girl,” he said. “You can move your hands now, baby. I want to do you soft and sweet tonight.” Her hands wrapped around his broad neck as his mouth met hers, a soft, sensual kiss she felt all the way down to her toes. “That’s my girl,” he said. “Such a very good girl.” Releasing her, he pushed away. “Now strip for me, baby.” She fumbled with the zipper of her skirt, then shimmied it down her legs. He grabbed the fabric at her ankles, freed her legs, and tossed the skirt to the floor. “Panties off,” he ordered next, raising his brows as he nodded to the panties as if they were a major inconvenience and he needed them to go, now, before he started knocking skulls together.
She obeyed, hands shaking as she took them off.
“God,” he said, his eyes going half-lidded, his voice low and heated as he came back to her. “You’re a fucking dream come true,” he said. He nudged her knees apart with his and kissed her again, on her temple and then the bridge of her nose, followed by her lips and then her neck, trailing kisses along her collarbone and down to her breasts.
“Open up, baby,” he said, moving her knees open. “Are you ready?”
Ready? She was about to come if he so much as breathed on her again.
“Yes,” she croaked. “Yes, Daddy!” Watching him unfasten his jeans, she shivered, as his bare skin glistened in the dim light of the open door. He was lean and muscled, his body controlled and powerful. Bending down to her, he kissed her once more, nudging her knees further apart, then he lowered his mouth to her ear.
“Sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, as he drew closer, his skin meeting hers, warm and electric as they connected. “I wanna make love to you, Nora. And I want you to remember this.” His broad shoulders lowered as his arms encircled her, the silky head of his cock at her entrance as she held onto him, the firm muscles at his neck and back strong and masculine, his arms tight around her. He was everything she fought and everything she needed. She could see it in the way he looked at her, the possessive heat of his eyes and firm touch of his hand, his arm around her shoulders and voice at her ear. He loved her.
With one firm push, he entered her. She gasped, holding onto his shoulders for support, a thrill of ecstasy threading through her core with every move of his hips. “You’re mine, Nora,” he said, the warmth of his breath at her ear while he slid in, making her quake beneath him. She didn’t want to be anyone’s but his, ever. She only wanted Diego, every bossy, sweet inch of him. And as he moved, slowly building a rhythm, she wanted to be what he needed… the strong woman who could take him, who would understand even the deepest, darkest part of his soul, so she could love him better. She wanted to heal him of his broken past, help him be the man he longed to become, get to know the man he already was. He was a man who’d sacrificed himself to protect the innocents, a man who’d faced darkness others couldn’t handle.
He held her, their bodies moving as one, her pleasure building with every thrust of his hips. His forehead met hers in a silent understanding as she gripped onto him. She was going to lose control, and so was he. His breathing became choppy, her own breath caught in her throat, somewhere between ecstasy and need. When she finally hit the cusp of pleasure, they came together, a fusion of perfection. They held each other in the dim light of dusk, his forehead still against hers.
They lay in the darkness, and she shifted her position slightly so her head could rest on his chest. They didn't say anything. Her fingers entwined with his and they rested in the quiet, sheets tossed haphazardly over them. The little prickly hairs on his chest tickled her cheek, and the warmth of his skin against hers gave her comfort. It felt nice, lying here with him. It felt right.
“You okay, baby?” he asked, a quiet question that meant so much. He’d just made sweet love to her, and brought pleasure only he could bring. But it wasn’t about the sex. His question ran deeper than that.
Was she okay?
She needed one helluva chat with her big sister. It would be good to see Diego with the others again, with the friends who’d come to be her family and his. A small part of her wanted their blessing, but she realized as he held her in his bed that the woman in her needed no one’s approval.
“Yeah,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. “I’m… more than okay.” She paused before asking what she needed to know. “Are you?”
She heard him swallow hard before bringing her fingers to his mouth and kissing them. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “I am now.”
Chapter 7
“The intel is good, and the plan is solid,” Diego told the man on the other side of his desk.
Tomás leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the wooden surface between them. “But?”
Diego ignored the muddy boots parked inches from his face and purposely hesitated for a moment before replying, “But something about this seems off to me.”
Tomás fished a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and lit one, while the gaze he fixed on Diego danced with amusement. “Padre, it’s a five minute in and out. Spot the girl, squeeze the trigger, run like hell. Easy as fuck.”
Diego inhaled a smoke-laden breath, and reminded himself to keep his temper in check. Tomás’s disrespect and contempt for Diego’s authority wore on his nerves, and he had to fight the urge to put the man in his place. This is what needs to happen now, he reminded himself. You need to appear just weak and hesitant enough for him to doubt you. Let Tomás’s own arrogance bring him down so you can protect Nora, Camila, and the other girls.
Diego nodded at Tomás and allowed a thread of nervousness to enter his voice. “Yeah. Right. Easy as fuck.”
Tomás rolled his eyes. “Jesus. Listen to you. My five-year-old niece has more cojones than you do right now. You’re gonna punk out, aren’t you?”
Jackpot. I should win an Oscar for this.
Diego narrowed his own eyes and played the part he’d written for himself, stammering, “What? No. Fuck you. Why would you think that? I said I’d take the girl out tomorrow night, and I will
. I just said it seems… off.”
“Padre, everything’s been off with you this week… Even longer, if I’m being honest.” The man arched his back and stretched, making himself comfortable in Diego’s chair, in Diego’s space.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Diego demanded.
“Pfft. You know. Going easy on Ricky.” Tomás flicked the ash of his cigarette onto the floor and watched Diego thoughtfully. “Not having us all out there immediately searching for the girl.” He pursed his lips. “Hardly a secret that you’ve lost your mojo. All the guys are talking about it. You don’t have the heart for this anymore, let alone the balls.”
Diego stared back, hard and cool, but inside, his chest twisted in wry acknowledgement. Tomás was half right—Diego hadn’t had the heart for this job for a long time, if ever. But he had the balls to admit he’d deluded himself into thinking that being one of the “good guys” excused the crimes he’d had to commit to protect his identity, even as he’d felt his soul blackening by the day. He regretted the deception he was employing on Tomás, regretted that it had come to this, but he didn’t want anyone else harmed for the sake of the investigation. The lies he told would save Camila’s life.
“All the guys have been talking about it?” Diego repeated, as though he didn’t know it to be true. “Including you?”
Tomás shrugged and smiled offhandedly. “You and me, we go back a long time, Padre, but you know how it is around here. One of your boys starts to lose his nerve, it makes you wonder… How long until he turns on the crew? How long until he gets my ass killed? How long until he’s a liability?” He sucked in a deep drag from the cigarette before adding, “Ain’t personal.”
Diego snorted, ostensibly at Tomás’s ain’t personal line, because both of them knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was very personal indeed, but also because of the irony in Tomás’s earlier words. How long until Diego turned? Ha. Diego had turned on them almost from the very beginning.
