by Bella J.
There was no need for me to reach between us, the tip of my cock already nudging at her entrance, and I couldn’t control it. I thrust and pushed inside her, her cries sounding like a thousand echoes within the confines of the bathroom.
I should have stopped and asked her if she was okay, but feeling her heat wrap around me, her tightness, her walls sucking me in, I lost my ability to fucking care. All I cared about was losing myself inside her. I wanted to drown in her and never break through the surface.
She had become gravity—the daughter of my enemy. The daughter of the man I hated most—and she had no idea why.
I pulled out and sank back in. “Jesus,” I groaned. “It’s heaven and hell, being inside you, Faye.”
Her moans grew louder, more rapid as I drove into her, sinking so damn deep I could feel her core against the tip of my dick.
“Your cunt will grow accustomed to my cock, and only mine. No other man will ever know the pleasure of fucking you.”
“Gian.” The way my name rolled from her tongue, water splashing from her lips. “Oh, God.”
I fucked her harder, deeper, her back moving up and down against the cold tiled wall. Over and over, my cock claimed her, driving deep and slamming hard.
Nails dug into the skin of my back, her heels pressing into my ass as her legs tightened around me.
“You need to come,” I said, out of breath, placing my hands against the wall behind her, my hips keeping its relentless rhythm. “I swear to God, if you don’t come before I do…Jesus, fuck.”
Leaning my forehead against hers, I watched as Daniela’s expression was overcome with zeal and lust as if she too stood at the edge of rapture.
I reared back, pulled out, so just the tip of my cock remained inside her, and plunged deep. She cried out, and I knew she was there. She was right there with me, at the edge while I pistoned in and out of her as if it would mean death if I didn’t.
Deeper. Faster. Harder.
Water beat down over us with steamy rivulets, and finally, I felt her pussy pulse around me as she moaned, her mouth formed like the perfect fucking O.
“That’s my baby girl.”
I gave one final thrust as my climax shredded me, tore my fucking insides apart as it crested—from the back of my neck, down my spine, and crashing against my balls.
I stilled as I creamed her cunt, my mind finally empty. Void of anything and everything. There was nothing—only peace. Calm. Serenity.
There was only her.
Chapter Twenty
I sighed and made another attempt to pull my hair up, trying to create a decent looking updo. Not even the silver flower pins and comb could help me tame the wild curls.
“I don’t even know why I still try.”
Gian came up behind me, brushing the curls from my shoulder, and placed a tender kiss in the crook of my neck. “You know I prefer your hair down. So, forget about those silly pins.”
His feathery kisses traveled up, touching just below my ear, and I craned my neck to the side, relishing the feel of his lips against my skin.
“If you don’t stop, we’ll be late to welcome our guests.”
“Then let’s be late.” He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me against him. “I really couldn’t give a fuck.”
“Gian.” It was more a moan than a protest.
The chime of the doorbell echoed down the hall, and Gian’s head lolled forward. “To say I am in no mood for this party is the understatement of the century.”
I turned to face him and placed my palms on his chest. “It could be worse.”
“Yeah? How?”
“We could have still hated each other. At least now we can stand to be in the same room for longer than twenty minutes without wanting to kill each other.”
He cocked a brow. “True. But now it seems I can’t be in the same room as you without wanting to be inside you, watch your face as you come.” His gaze swept down my body, letting out an appreciative moan. “And it’s not like this dress would make it hard for me to spread these pretty legs of yours.”
“Stop.” My cheeks flushed, and I turned back around to look at my reflection. The off-the-shoulder teal cocktail dress with a fitted bodice and flared skirt was perfect for a midday social event. The hem touched the top of my knees, and a delicate silver strap around my waist gave it a touch of elegance.
Gian and I stared at our reflection together, his hands still on my hips. His navy-blue suit brought out the golden specks in his amber eyes. And his midnight hair was carefully groomed with a rippling quality, my fingertips begging to clutch them tight while he rocked on top of me. Chiseled cheeks and kissable lips, Gian Davide Silvestro was the type of man all the women in a room desired—some with secret glances, others with unabashedly suggestive looks.
The last few days with Gian had been…unexpected. Sharing a bed with him, listening to his deep breathing while he slept, feeling his arm around me, his nose nuzzled in my hair when I woke up in the morning—it felt good. My body was still adjusting to him, but now that I knew the kind of euphoria which awaited me whenever he was inside me, I happily braved the temporary pain and blunt pressure. Being one with him transported me to a place where the entire world disappeared, where it was just us and the ecstasy of his touch.
But I wasn’t naïve. We still had a long way to go to being a happily married couple. There were still times when he would stare at me, and I’d wonder if he thought of my father—of this intense hate he felt for him. One day I would brave the topic and pursue answers as to why he loathed my father so much. But not today.
I swept curls from my face. “Will Irina be here?”
“No. My father doesn’t know about my business relationship with her.”
“Really? Why?”
“I prefer it that way.”
“But Darion knew?”
Gian’s expression turned to stone. “It couldn’t be avoided. But my little brother knows better than to talk about my secret business ventures. He has more to lose than I do.”
I narrowed my eyes while fastening a silver hoop earring. “That’s a vague answer if I ever heard one.”
He stepped away, opened a closet drawer, and picked one of his wristwatches. “You know I like to keep my answers simple. The less you know—”
“The better.” I rolled my eyes as I completed his sentence. Even after the night Gian tried to save that girl, after I witnessed it all, Gian was hellbent on keeping me in the dark as much as he could.
“Have you heard from him?”
He fastened his watch, his silence deafening.
“It’s been days, Gian.”
He straightened his suit lapels and faced me. “You care for him.”
“He’s your brother. Don’t you care for him?”
“He tried to convince you to go with him. Tried to take you from me. So, no. I don’t care for him.”
“So much happened that night. None of us were thinking clearly.”
“Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not. I’m just saying he’s your brother, and if there’s some part of your relationship that can be saved, you should at least try.”
Gian licked his lips, shoulders squared and presence heavy. “Not all siblings have the kind of relationship you and Alessa share.”
The mention of her name made me miss her even more, and part of me had hoped she’d be able to join us today. But my father was too much of a control-freak, loving the power he had over us. His refusal of my simple request of having Alessa here at the party was his way of showing me he still held some measure of control over me.
My eyes welled, but the tears didn’t slip. Gian reached out and gently brushed my cheek with his thumb. “You miss her.”
“I do. So much.”
“Well, then,” he shot me a coy smile, “I’m glad I did this thing.”
I frowned. “What thing?”
“Faye?” Her voice rang from the hall.
“That thing.”
I gasped when I recognized my sister’s voice. “How did you?”
His lips curled in a wry grin. “Let’s just say I have a way of making grown men do things they don’t really want to do.”
I cocked a brow. “That is a bizarre thing to say, and I will come back to question whatever it is hidden between the lines.”
“Faye?”
“In here!”
I pushed myself up on my toes and kissed Gian—hard, pouring every ounce of appreciation into that one simple act. “Thank you.”
My feet couldn’t carry me fast enough, and I didn’t care whether my Jimmy Choo heels would survive my rushing out the bedroom and into the hall, almost knocking Alessa right over.
“Oh, my God, Alessa.” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, and this time the tears did escape. “I missed you so much.” I tightened my hug and squeezed as hard as I could. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Alessa hugged me back. “Funny thing. I was supposed to fly out to England today, but then your very generous husband offered me his private plane, which will get me back at Oxford in time for when my break ends.”
I leaned back and slanted a brow. “He did.”
“He sure did. Some man you got there, Faye.” Her blue eyes twinkled under the rays of the sun shining through the hall windows. “Make sure to keep him happy. A girl always needs a plane.”
I felt him before I saw him—his presence regal, magnetic, and impossible to ignore. I glanced over my shoulder and found him leaning against the doorframe, watching us with an amused grin.
“Thank you,” I mouthed silently, and he merely nodded.
Alessa grabbed my hand and pulled me off in the other direction. “Now, I want to know everything about married life,” she lifted her brows suggestively, “and I mean everything.”
Alessa and I only had about half an hour for a quick catch-up before I had to join Gian as he welcomed our guests, and socializing. It wasn’t half as many people as at the wedding, but still daunting enough. Standing by his side, being greeted as Mrs. Silvestro, and acting the part of his wife was intimidating as hell. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. But his inconspicuous touching and reassuring glances were all I needed to get through it.
Gabriela and the rest of the staff had outdone themselves with the party décor. Tables had been set outside to enjoy the summer sun, with elegant white embroidered tablecloths and delicate pink peony flower arrangements. The peonies were my only request when Gabriela approached me for my input on the party details.
Everything was going well. Guests were smiling and chatting, and having Alessa around had blown new life into my soul. It was good…until my parents stepped up, my father the only guest Gian made a conscious effort to ignore.
“You have a lovely home, Gian,” he remarked, standing tall and squaring his chest like a damn peacock. “Certainly big enough for lots of kids to run around.”
“Thank you, Emilio. If you’ll excuse me,” he gave me a peck on the cheek, “I have someone I need to speak to.”
Gian walked off, not giving my father a second glance. It just showed how deeply rooted his hate for my father was, how he didn’t care whether his abrupt departure from the conversation was deemed as rude or not.
Alessa stood on her toes and dragged her attention along the crowd. “Now, where is that waiter with the champagne? I’m parched.”
“And underage,” I reminded her with a teasing smile as she walked off in search of champagne flutes filled with bubbles.
“Daniela.” My father demanded my attention, which I gave reluctantly with a simple glance. “Don’t wait too long.”
“For what?”
“To give Gian an heir.”
“Emilio,” my mother muttered under her breath. “This is not the time.”
“Nonsense. This is the perfect time.”
“Dad, please.”
He straightened his jacket and sleeves. “A man like Gian needs an heir. And you need to make sure you give him one. The sooner, the better.”
“And here I thought there might be a chance you came to our little party to make sure your oldest daughter was happy.” I scoffed. “I should have known you’d use this as an opportunity to bulldoze over me and have me do more of your bidding.”
“Do not speak to me in such a tone, young lady.”
My father was a tall and robust man, his presence alone enough to intimidate any man. But I was done with his bullying. Done with him dictating my every move. I stepped closer, wanting my father to look into my eyes. “All my life, you treated me like I was an empty shell, like I had no will of my own. Only yours. You forced me into this marriage, threatened my sister so I would do what you demanded. But that ends here. You, dear father, will not pressure me into motherhood. That is the one choice you will not take from me. Do you understand?”
His mustache lifted as he snarled with disgust, his reprimand on the tip of his snake’s tongue, about to be spat out. But I would not stand there in the middle of a crowd of guests, and the first conversation with my father was about goddamn babies.
I made my way through the crowd, needing air. The deck was filled with people, so many faces and voices, and I could hardly catch a breath. I swiftly sauntered to the front door, knowing there would be no one in the parking lot. All I needed was a few moments to catch my breath and calm down.
Who the hell did my father think he was? Did he honestly think he’d still have some kind of hold over me after he married me off, made me some other man’s responsibility? Someday soon I’d probably hate my father as much as Gian did.
I exited through the oversized doors, heels clicking as they hit the cobbled walkway. Just a few moments of silence and an abundance of fresh air were all I needed to calm the storm.
“Faye?”
I looked up and saw a black SUV parked at the other side of the driveway, Alessa standing beside the open passenger-side door.
“Alessa? What are you doing?” I held my hand over my eyes, trying to block out the sun while walking toward her, crossing the asphalt. “What are you doing? I can promise you, you won’t find any champagne here.”
I chuckled, but Alessa didn’t make a sound. In fact, she didn’t move, her face ghostly pale and eyes wide with panic.
My heart jumped into overdrive. “Alessa, what’s—”
“Hello, Daniela.” Darion climbed out of the car, dark hair neatly styled, wearing a black suit and white dress shirt. At first, I was excited to see him…until a glint of silver under the sun caught my eye—a gun in his hand firmly pressed against my sister’s back.
I sucked in a breath, my heart lodged in my throat. “Darion, what is going on?”
“We don’t have much time.”
“Much time for what? Darion, please put that gun away, and let’s talk about this.”
The blood in my veins had turned to ice, my skin feeling like molten lava as panic surged through me with a destructive force. I quickly glanced around us, but there was no one else in sight.
Darion wrapped his hand around my sister’s wrist, and she whimpered, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
“It’s okay, Alessa.” I tried to stay calm, tried to reassure her. “Darion, let my sister go, and we can talk about this.”
His smirk was malicious and his eyes empty. “That’s the plan. We’ll have enough time to talk, but first, you need to get in the car.”
“I will. Just let Alessa go first.”
“Faye, no,” she objected, her bottom lip trembling uncontrollably. But even though my heart was on the verge of cracking through my ribs and my stomach turned inside out, I refused to show my fear.
“Let her go, and we can talk.”
“Get in on the other side.” He indicated to the opposite passenger side door, and I didn’t hesitate for a second. I’d jump off the edge of a cliff without thinking twice if it meant keeping Alessa safe.
I opened the door and got in, not recognizing the driver beh
ind the wheel. With a racing pulse and sweaty palms, I leaned over the back seat. “I’m in the car, Darion. Now, please let my sister go.”
“You know,” he started, “I had no doubt you’d listen. After all, we all know what a good girl you are, obeying the men in your life like a little puppet.”
“Darion.”
He shoved Alessa, and she tripped, falling to the ground. “Run, little sister. Go get some help,” he mocked, and she scrambled to her feet.
With bated breath, I watched as Darion lifted his arm, holding the gun and aiming the muzzle of the silencer at her. The pink layers of Alessa’s chiffon dress waved around her body as she ran toward the house. My heart pounded—my thoughts on mute. Everything around me went dark. No sound. No color. Nothing. Just Alessa and her pink dress, and blonde hair rippling in the wind.
“No,” I breathed, the sound of my exhale followed by the sharp, muffled pop of two gunshots going off in quick succession. It wasn’t a loud, deafening crack, yet my ears rang with shrieks of shock.
My limbs went numb, my lungs no longer expanding while I witnessed my little sister fall in slow-motion—the entire world around me fading to black. Blonde hair wafted through the air as she dropped to the ground, layers of pink scattered on the asphalt. It didn’t make sense. The moment didn’t make sense. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t speak. Not until I saw the deep red liquid seep through the soft fabric of her dress.
That was the moment a scream ripped from my chest—so loud, so hard, it tore from my throat with a thousand razor blades. Pain fractured every bone, and my heart no longer beat, instantly shattered.
Darion jumped into the car and slammed the door shut. “Drive.”
The screeching of tires ignited a manic frenzy that took hold of every limb and muscle in my body, and I couldn’t control it. I punched. I kicked. I fucking wailed.
Darion gripped my wrists and twisted me in my seat, slamming my face against the tinted window. I felt the prick of a needle against my arm, cold spreading through my veins. Black shadows started to blur my vision, and I felt him lean over me—his chest against my back.
