Steele Resolve: A Hawke Family Story

by Gwyn McNamee

  Christ, I can’t take it anymore.

  I bury my hands in his hair and push, urging him down. His eyes flick up to meet mine. The heat blazing in their dark depths sends fire dancing over my skin. He kisses his way down my stomach and engulfs my shaft in one smooth motion.

  The wet heat of his mouth has me gasping and digging my hands into his hair. “Fuck, Luca.”

  He swallows me even deeper, and the head of my dick rubs against the slick back of his throat. I fight the tingle at the base of my spine.

  Shit. I can’t come this fast…

  But with his tongue sliding along my shaft and the way his lips suction around me…I won’t last.

  I roll my hips and thrust. He moans around me, and a growl rumbles low in his chest. The vibration along my cock is my undoing.

  “Fuck!” I shoot my load straight down his throat as he digs his fingers into my hips and sucks like a fucking wild man.

  And he is one. When we’re together, he’s completely unbridled, out of control yet controlling everything at the same time.

  “Jesus Christ.” I gasp and suck in a breath as my entire body shakes and tingles.

  He sucks my dick hard one more time and releases it with a satisfied grin. “Now I finally know what you taste like.”

  After we met at the bar, it was fast, dirty, and straight to business. I spent time on my knees for him, but when it came to reciprocating, it was clear he planned to get me off in other ways that night. And he did. More fucking times than I can count. Having his mouth on me now was literally a fucking dream come true.

  Luca rises to his feet and shoves his pants all the way down. His massive erection springs free, and he strokes it once, twice, then kicks off his pants and drops his knee onto the bed between my legs. He leans down, stopping with his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. “Fucking fantastic.”

  He presses his lips to mine and demands entrance. I open for him, and the salty taste of my release on his tongue has me hardening again.

  Fuck.

  Those dark eyes flare as he backs away and pulls my pants from my feet. He tosses them over his shoulder without caring where they land. My cock throbs. Hard seems to be my only state whenever I’m around him, and it slowly thickens again, watching him tower over me.

  He steps between my legs and slaps the outside of my thigh. “Turn over. Up on your knees.”

  God…yes.

  I roll onto my stomach and push myself up onto my hands and knees. I look over at him. He strokes his length as his dark eyes rake over me. His free hand reaches out and squeezes my butt cheek, then he smacks it hard as he moves between my legs and presses his cock against my hole.

  The man who is my worst nightmare and greatest dream all rolled into one leans over me and pushes his chest to my back. His hands come down on top of mine, and his warm breath flutters against my ear. He nips at it and growls. “I’ve been dreaming about fucking this ass for weeks. I hope you’re ready.”

  I grasp Byron’s firm cheeks and spread them open. My cock aches, and I rub it between them. He moans and shifts back, offering himself to me.

  Like I would turn him down.

  Even if I wanted to, at this point, he’s unleashed the beast in me, the part of me that stops at nothing to get what I want. It’s what makes me great at my job, and no one has ever complained in the bedroom before.

  Certainly not Byron…

  I smack his cheek hard, and he rocks forward but comes right back to me. A pale red handprint forms, and I brush my fingers across it lightly, sending a shudder through him. It shouldn’t make my chest swell with pride the way my touch affects him, but it does. And getting inside him again will be absofuckinglutely mind-blowing.

  I press my thumb against his opening and push in. He groans and tightens around it.

  Fuck.

  This is what I’ve been fantasizing about. His total surrender. Even though he fears me. Fears who and what I am. He’s still giving himself to me.

  I growl and smack his ass with my other hand. It’s so good with him. Every fucking moment we spent together that first night was more memorable than anyone else I’ve ever been with. It’s him I dream about, him I picture when I stroke myself.

  Only him.

  I probe at him, preparing him for what is going to be some fucking rough sex. As badly as I want Byron and don’t want to hurt him, especially with the taste of his cum still on my tongue, this won’t be slow or gentle. I don’t do it any other way.

  The drawer to the bedside table glides open easily, and I grab the bottle of lube and drizzle it over my dick and where my thumb is buried inside him. I grasp my dick and press the head at his opening as I pull out my thumb. He groans and drops onto his forearms, pushing himself up at a different angle. I enter him slowly and clench my jaw against the desire to shove into him in one hard stroke. His hands tighten on the bedspread as I push deeper. With every inch that slips inside him, I grit my teeth harder.

  So damn close.

  Having his cock down my throat almost had me blowing my load five minutes ago, but I needed this. I want to be inside him when I come. I want him to feel it, to know what he does to me drives me fucking insane and makes me think and do things that are dangerous for us both.

  I finally push in to the hilt. He groans, and I lean down over him and press my chest against his back. I wrap my hand around his throat and tilt his head back until his eyes meet mine. “You feel fucking incredible. You like having my cock inside you?”

  He grunts and tightens his muscles around me. I growl and press my lips to his. Our tongues duel as we fight for control. He brings up an arm and tugs at my hair, angling my head the way he wants it.

  I withdraw my hips slightly and push back in. He moans into my mouth and rolls his hips. I growl and nip at him before I pull my chest away.

  No more playing around.

  I reach around and grasp his hard cock.

  “Fuck!” He glances over his shoulder, and I flash him a grin as I dig the fingers of my other hand into his hip and shove inside of him.

  He gasps as I start a driving rhythm and stroke his cock in time with my thrusts. His hips move as he pushes into my hand and meets my strokes.

  “Christ, I’m gonna come again.” His strangled words make my dick throb inside him, and I increase my pace, driving into him and stroking him with an end in sight.

  It hits me without warning. I plunge deep, and the orgasm slams into me. I clutch onto his hip and squeeze his shaft as I blast my load. He grunts, and his dick hardens in my hand as he comes with me.

  I release his cock and wrap my arm around his waist to pull him back against me. He sags into me, and I turn and drop back onto the bed, dragging him along. He pulls away and rolls off to my side, away from the evidence of his orgasm.

  My chest heaves, and the air of the room chills my sweat-slicked skin. I run my fingers down his spine, and he shivers. “Byron?”

  He lifts his head and turns it to look at me. I grin at him, but there’s no humor in his eyes. None at all. The dark brown appears almost black in the dim light of the room, and any softness that may have existed there only moments ago has been replaced by something else.

  He’s already letting his guilt and loyalty to the Hawkes weasel its way into his head. He can’t even let himself enjoy a few brief moments of post-orgasmic bliss without second-guessing the decision to give into me again.

  The man is as infuriating as he is irresistible.

  I push myself up onto my elbow and narrow my eyes. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” He rolls to the side of the bed and drops his feet to the floor, giving his back to me.

  Oh, hell no.

  I grab his shoulder and turn him back to face me. “Don’t let your loyalty to them ruin this.” I motion between us. “This is good. Very good. Don’t pretend it’s not just because they wouldn’t like it.”

  He pulls away from me and rises to his feet. “You don’t get it.”

  I do get
it, but nothing I can say will change his mind. Actions speak louder than words, though. I climb off the bed and step right up to him until I can feel his chest thudding against my own. I slam my lips against his and grab his cock.

  It’s all that needs to be said.

  5

  The walk of shame isn’t anything new for me. Since my move to New Orleans, I haven’t exactly been careful or particular about my partners, and it’s made for some awkward morning-afters. Far more than I care to remember.

  But today has to be the worst.

  By a fucking longshot.

  Acid churns in my stomach as I pull on my jacket and zip it. I tug my hood around my face and take one glance back at Luca’s sleeping form. His chiseled chest rises and falls rhythmically, and his perfect lips part slightly as he releases a little groan in his sleep. The disheveled dark hair I had my hands buried in last night makes him look even more dangerous than when every strand is perfectly in place.

  The smell of sex hangs in the air, mingling with the leather-and-spice scent that’s all him.

  Shit.

  It has my cock hardening again. As if a half dozen orgasms weren’t enough over the last twelve hours. If I don’t get the hell out of here, I’m going to continue this self-destruction well into the afternoon.

  I slip from his room and out into the hallway. It’s deserted, and I release a sigh of relief and slowly close the door until it clicks shut behind me. I freeze and listen for sounds that it woke Luca, but welcomed silence greets me. I managed to get away without a confrontation, and it’s still early enough there hopefully won’t be very many people up to witness this.

  God willing.

  Though the man upstairs hasn’t really done me many favors. Crap childhood. Shitty parents. The one good thing I have that I’ve always considered to have been divine intervention, the Hawkes, is now threatened. There’s no way my relationship with them will survive my affair with Luca.

  It can’t.

  I drop my head and hit the back staircase that will let me out into the side alley, away from the main lobby and the most likely place for prying eyes. My boots pound on the metal stairs, the sound reverberating down the stairwell and through my ears.

  It’s a welcome reprieve from the voice in my head.

  I’ve never felt so dirty in my entire life, and that’s saying a lot considering the things that were said and done to me back home.

  It’s not easy being a gay kid in Utah. Especially back then. Even though I wasn’t out yet, people knew. People gossiped. People whispered. People did a lot worse. People were not kind. Which is how a skinny, quiet kid ended up in New Orleans, spending his time in the gym bulking up so he could protect himself. And I can now. If anyone throws a punch or tries anything, I’m confident I can defend myself or anyone else who needs it.

  But what I can’t protect myself from is Luca. That arrogant man, with his flashy suits and confident smile, is enough to drive me fucking mad.

  I shove out into the alley and inhale the fresh morning air. The salty tang of the water mingles with bacon and something sweet trickling from a propped-open door down the alley—probably the kitchen of the hotel.

  My stomach rumbles, but I can’t eat. It would just sit like a damn rock in my gut with all the guilt that’s slowly destroying me from the inside out. I jog down the block to my car with my head down. Looking anyone in the eye is impossible after what I did with Luca, after what I let him do to me.

  Last night was supposed to be about confronting him. Learning the truth about that night we spent together. Getting information about what his plans were for the Hawkes. Instead, I caved to his charms and demands and practically fucking begged him to fuck me.

  Way to go, Byron. Slut.

  The man has some sort of weird hold over me. It makes me forget why this is so wrong…until the light of the morning when I see the face of every Hawke and the way they stare back at me when I tell them what I’ve done.

  Judgment in their eyes.

  The hurt.

  The betrayal.

  They’ve suffered enough of that for ten lifetimes.

  Now, I’m going to be the one who does it again.

  And I will do it because I know I’ll be back here…with him.

  Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but I won’t be able to stay away from Luca, and that fucking sucks.

  I climb into the car and crank the ignition. Music blares from my stereo. “Blame It On The Night…”

  Jesus.

  I let out a mirthless laugh and shake my head as I throw the car into drive. The words of the song pour through the car as I pull out of the parking spot and make my way toward home. Each and every lyric slices at my heart and has guilt clawing at my chest.

  Fuck this song.

  It couldn’t be any more accurate for my life right now.

  I would love to have something else to blame but myself. Maybe some sick twist of fate or karma getting back at me for some old action. Or even better, blame it on booze last night and the night we met. But I was stone-cold sober last night—at least, I was when he kissed me—so I can’t blame it on alcohol, as much as I truly wish I could.

  It was a decision I made with my dick instead of my head. The kind of decision I knew I would be regretting just like I am this morning, but I did it anyway because I’m weak. Because that man’s dark eyes and thick black hair and rippling, rock-hard muscles, that man’s kiss, that man’s laugh, that man’s everything drive me absolutely fucking insane and make me forget about anyone or anything else when we’re in the same room.

  He’s an addiction I can’t afford, but one I know I won’t break anytime soon.

  Only a fucking moron would get into bed with Luca Abello again, but I did.

  And I will.

  Alessandro sticks his head into my office. “Mr. Abello? Sir?”

  “What?” I stare at the spreadsheet on my screen, trying to make sense of the numbers.

  Why the hell is he interrupting me now?

  “We have a problem.”

  I sigh and turn away from my computer. “What’s that?”

  He walks in and stands behind the chairs across from my desk. I motion for him to sit. He’s one of the few holdovers from when Dom was still around. The rest have either scattered or moved on to other areas of work. As long as they’re not with one of my competitors, though, I don’t care.

  I reward loyalty, but a man needs to be able to support his family, and with the Abello empire in ruin, some didn’t have a choice but to get out of the business.

  “What’s going on?”

  He shifts nervously and motions behind him, toward the front of the building. “I’ve noticed a car sitting down the road the last couple days.”

  I snort.

  Jesus, this guy is not very observant.

  “Just one car?”

  He nods.

  “And just the last couple of days?”

  He nods again, slower this time, almost as if he’s anticipating what’s coming. But he’s not smart enough for that. He probably just caught the hard tone of my repeated question.

  “You really suck at your job, Alessandro. I’ve been followed since the day I met with the Hawkes. They rotate cars and who is watching me to try to remain inconspicuous, and I’ve had to ditch them several times already.”

  His dark brows furrow. “Really?”

  I sigh and relax back in my chair. “Yes, really.”

  This guy is a dolt.

  No wonder Dom never trusted him with anything more important than being the muscle.

  “What is it I pay you for, exactly? If you didn’t know this was happening, how are you supposed to protect me and the business?”

  He shrugs. “I-I-I don’t know what you expect, sir.”

  Jesus.

  I scrub my hand over my face. “Get out of here.” I wave him out.

  “What are we gonna do about it?”

  We aren’t doing anything.

  I scowl at hi
m. I would love to walk right up to the car and tell them I know they’ve been following me and to back the fuck off, but I don’t have much to hide. Other than going from here to the hotel and to dinner or meetings, nothing I do for the business is hidden or really matters in the grand scheme of things if people were to find out. Anything dirty I have my hands in is well-hidden behind dozens of layers of protection—drugs, guns, girls, they’re all practically invisible. I’m as clean as a whistle where the business is concerned.

  My personal life, however…

  It’s exactly why I haven’t gone back to The Back Pocket or any other bar when I needed to release some tension. That, and there was only one man I wanted to help me in that area.

  Last night with Byron only refreshed and enforced that the man has everything—intelligence, passion, determination, loyalty. He cut straight to my heart and kept my cock hard from the moment he walked through that door until he snuck away this morning.

  These feelings. That need. It’s very dangerous in this world.

  It’s one of the reasons Mom and I were sent back to Jersey all those years ago. The man who never wanted me around knew what my lifestyle meant for him, what his enemies would do with the information if it ever came out.

  It’s just too dangerous to have something you care about so close, and while being sent away had everything to do with protecting himself, not Mom or me, he had the right idea.

  I can’t let myself care about Byron, and I can’t let myself feel bad for the guilt he holds for lying to the Hawkes about what we’ve done. I can’t let myself care about his history, about who he is or where he came from. I can’t let myself care about any of that because even if this were a world where he could be safe, if I were a man he could be safe with, once he tells the Hawkes, it will be over anyway.

  There’s only one person I can ever care about. I grab my phone and dial the number.

  “Luca, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  She sighs. The same sigh she’s given me a thousand times over the years. The sigh that elicits that little bit of guilt about leaving her behind to come back to New Orleans.