Marco: Lucian & Lia: Book 8

by Sydney Landon

  “Not now, Nina,” he says shortly as he turns the ignition and swings the SUV around in the other direction. I open my mouth to make another attempt at conversation, but one look at his stiff profile stops me. Nina. He called me Nina. Twice. I’ve never seen him like this. I fear that I’ve lost someone who was more important to me than I realized. I flash back to those times when he showed up at my apartment to ask me out. He’d lean against the doorframe and flash me that cocky grin. The one that made my heart skip and my chest tight. I’d say something insulting, he’d laugh, and we’d spend another few minutes trading barbs before he’d either take his leave or make up some excuse to come inside. I acted as if I hated it when, secretly, it gave me a ridiculous glow for days afterward. I didn’t want to be one of those women who swooned at the feet of a man who could have anyone he wanted. But dammit, even though I knew I wasn’t special to him, that was what I felt, if for no other reason than he didn’t chase women. He doesn’t have to. Yet for over a year, he’s shown up, time after time, with no sign of stopping. My willpower was almost nonexistent a week ago when he came for me. He could have probably gotten lucky that night without even buying me dinner first. He excites, confuses, and challenges me. But most of all, he tempts me beyond reason. God, I want him. I’ve written those very words hundreds of times before in my books, but I’ve never felt them—never really got them until him. And as much as I want slow and sweet, I also want him to fuck me until I stop thinking so damn much and just feel. I’ve always liked being in control of my life, but frankly, it’s exhausting. I just want to feel. I want to let go and have him take over my pleasure. Take control of me. I came so close to orgasm simply from his kisses and touch a week ago, so I know it would be incredible with him. And that’s what I want.

  Desperately.

  It’s ironic that I finally admit the hard truth to myself, only to realize that the opportunity with Marco is gone. Because even if he can forgive everything I’ve done tonight, will he ever forget it? The underlying attraction between us has always been the cornerstone of our relationship, but I have a sick feeling in my stomach that everything has changed. I’m no longer the innocent he believed me to be. Does that make me fair game? That question haunts me as we near his apartment. One way or another, he’ll answer it for me tonight, and I have no idea if I’m strong enough to survive his brand of reply.

  7

  Marco

  I’m no longer furious. I’ve surpassed that. Hell, I’m not sure what I am. Stunned. Bewildered. All right, a little pissed. And strangely, a whole lot horny. The urge to pull the Escalade over and fuck Nina is almost more than I can bear. But first, I’d like to spank that ass for what she’s put me through tonight. Seeing her fly through the streets on that damn sports bike was both the hottest thing I’ve ever seen—and the most terrifying. I had serious doubts that it was even her when she came roaring out of the parking garage on that death trap. Had it not been for the trackers I placed in the soles of all her shoes, I wouldn’t have followed her. Nic had been just as skeptical. Granted, we knew she was a bit of a wild card and had more strength than expected. She had Langdon on the ground and under her control within seconds. Clearly, she picked up a thing or two from living with the Gavinos—self-preservation and survival being the most obvious skills. I had no clue what she was capable of. She’s a beautifully confusing puzzle I have to put together, but I’m deathly afraid I don’t have the patience or control to do it slowly.

  I pull up in front of my building and leave the Escalade running. Wade steps out of the shadows, but one look at my face kills whatever smart comment he was on the verge of uttering. Instead, he nods at Nina as she walks slowly around the vehicle and stops a few feet away. I motion for her to precede me and grind my teeth as my eyes go directly to her ass as she moves toward the elevators. Then swear to fuck, according to the sign, they’re temporarily out of order. Go fuck yourself and use the stairs. It’s a special kind of hell that has me following those swinging hips up dozens of steps. The way those pants cling to that round, juicy ass should be illegal. The things I’m dreaming of doing to it probably are. But I’m strong, and I could have made it—if only she didn’t stumble and fall back into me. “Whoops, sorry,” she whispers.

  And that’s it.

  I lose it. Despite previous assurances to both her and myself that I’d spend hours driving her crazy, I’m all over her. I lift her up the next step to the landing and back her into the corner. Then my mouth is on hers, and my hands are everywhere. Like a predator, I’m entirely focused on her to the exclusion of everything else. I growl low in my throat as I yank both her top and bra down in one move. When her tits bounce free, my mouth latches on one, and my teeth mark it. She cries out, and I pause, wondering how the fuck I’ll stop if that’s what she wants. But I know I will regardless of the cost. I’ve never taken a woman against her will, and the one in my arms means more to me than any others ever have. “Belle? Tell me right now.”

  She climbs me, literally grabs my neck, and hoists her body up before wrapping her legs around my waist. Then she makes an irritated grunting noise as she sticks her other tit in my face. “If you stop, I’ll kill you, Moretti.”

  So hot. Thank fuck. I vaguely recognize that I’m not only claiming her, but I’m also fucking marking her. I never do that. And she’s doing the same as I nip and suck every inch of exposed body I can get to. “I’ve gotta fuck you, Belle. Can’t stop. Hold on to me.” She grips me tighter, and I wedge her closer to the wall for support while I unzip and lower my jeans and boxer briefs. She’s wiggling so much in my arms that for a moment I damn near panic, thinking she’s trying to get down. But when I glance down, she’s attempting to push her own pants down and having a harder time since they’re so tight. “Straighten.” She immediately stops what she’s doing and unlocks her legs from my waist to dangle at my sides. I put one hand against her back and use the other to slide the pants down. “Kick,” I add and grin when one of her shoes falls off allowing me to completely free one leg. Perfect.

  “Condom,” she adds, and again I’m shifting her around as I dig for my wallet in my back pocket. The juggling act has gotten so detailed and comical that I know it would be easier to go up a few more flights of stairs to my apartment, but I don’t think either of us is willing to be denied another two minutes. So she opens the condom while I toss my wallet aside, and considering how many I’ve used in my life, I have it on in seconds. My hands are on her ass now as I hold her suspended above the tip of my cock. I lower her just an inch, and we both groan at the initial penetration. “Teamwork makes the dream work,” she moans, and I lower my head into the crook of her neck as I release a ragged laugh.

  “Fucking right it does, baby,” I hiss as I lower her hips while thrusting upward until I’m buried to the hilt inside her hot, wet warmth. My usual finesse has deserted me as I take her hard and fast. But goddamn, she’s right there with me. Her nails are digging deep through the material of my shirt, and I can only marvel at the strength in those petite legs as she raises and lowers herself onto my cock as if unable to wait to take more inside her.

  “Marco,” she cries out before lowering a hand between us and rubbing her clit. “Can’t wait . . . I need… now.”

  At the sight of her taking what she wants, my balls draw up tight, and I know I’m only seconds away from blowing. Sweat is pouring down my back and trickling from my brow as I begin reciting baseball statics in my head. Anything to distract me from the way she’s grinding against me while working her nub furiously. I’ve never had to resort to it before, but I’ve never wanted anyone the way I do her. 2017 World Series. Astros win first title ever. Dodgers lose in game seven. She’s yelling my name now, the sound of her voice and our bodies slapping together echoing off the stairwell like a scene from a porn movie. Two-run homer by George Springer. Wait, what did she just say? No, I couldn’t have heard that right.

  “Will you fucking slap my ass, Moretti?” she snaps impatiently.

&n
bsp; I pause, my hips freezing with my dick buried to the hilt. I squeeze the area in question. “You want me to slap this?”

  She stares up at me, blinking owlishly before narrowing her eyes and wiggling her hips. “Stop being such a prude, Moretti. If I’m going to be fucked like this, then I want the whole experience.”

  Fuck my life. Baseball can’t save me now. A cold shower and Nic walking around naked couldn’t put this fire out. I flip around, putting my back against the wall and exposing hers fully, then I free one hand and slap that ass. She tenses when I make contact, but I feel her pussy contracting around me. She’s into it. Her body is damn near applauding. I switch to the other cheek, and that’s it, she’s coming so hard I have no choice but to go with her. Her pussy won’t allow anything else. She’s greedily milking me dry. “Ahhh, fuck,” I roar as my vision grows dim for a moment.

  “Don’t drop me.” I jerk, holding her tightly to me, and we both hiss as my cock slides deep once again. Hmm, round two… “Don’t even think about it, Moretti.” She giggles as she snuggles closer for a moment. “I’d rather the few people in this building who haven’t already seen or heard us to remain that way. Plus”—she winces— “I think I’ve got road rash on my back.”

  I’m a complete asshole. I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, then one to the tip of her nose before reluctantly separating us. When her legs are steady, I pull my shirt off and use it clean her up until we reach my place. She appears almost shy now as I pull her pants back up and rearrange her top before righting my own clothes. She mumbles her thanks, then takes a few steps forward. But there’s no way I’m letting her leave without making something clear. I sense that if I wait even the few minutes it will take to reach my apartment, it will be too late. “Belle,” I say softly as I put my hand on her arm. She turns back to look at me questioningly, but I see what she’s trying to hide. Doubt. Insecurity. But it’s the last one that slays me—hope. Fuck, she owns me. Has no clue, but she does. I cup her face, brushing my thumb tenderly over her swollen lips. “That was amazing. Better than I ever dreamed, and believe me, baby, I’ve thought of little else since I met you.”

  She looks down at her feet before glancing back up. “But… I’m just… me. You can have anyone you want, so you can’t possibly—”

  “You want to know what makes you different, Belle?” I’ve fucked nameless girls, but they haven’t been who I’ve wanted. And I never want to go back. When she nods, I lean down until we’re eye to eye before saying slowly and clearly, “You. Belong. To. Me. Haven’t we both always known that?”

  Being the stubborn little shit that she is, I can see an objection forming. But then she surprises me by shrugging. “I suppose we have.” My surprise turns to shock when she spins around and runs up the steps, stopping at the next landing. She flashes me an impish smile that’s purely a mixture of angel and devil. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though, Moretti.” She leaves me there, pretty much with my dick in my hand and my mouth hanging open. For a guy like me, I all but declare my undying love for her, and she walks away? I’m almost pissed until I see her rub her ass, undoubtedly sore from the few smacks I gave it. Then she winks at me in a way that tells me she’s more than happy to be mine. God help me, what have I gotten myself into? Somehow, I think being mafia has now officially become the easier part of my life. Surviving the little spitfire whose finger I’m wrapped around is gonna be the real challenge.

  Nina

  Feeling such a warm and fuzzy glow, I don’t think anything can bring me down. That is, until I throw open the door from the stairwell to Marco’s floor and come face to face with a grinning Jake. “Well, hello, sweet pea. I wondered when you two would make it up those last steps. It was becoming quite challenging to keep the other residents from crashing your… party. There’s an irate woman downstairs with blue hair and a possessed poodle according to Wade. She’s threatened to have him singing soprano by shoving her cane in a certain orifice.”

  I don’t need a mirror to know I’m blushing furiously. My face is on fire from within. When something touches my hip, I whirl, expecting to see Wade. But luckily, it’s Marco. And I can’t believe my eyes. He’s embarrassed. The ladies’ man extraordinaire shoves both hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels as he looks everywhere except at his grinning cousin. It probably doesn’t help that he’s holding his shirt—the one he used on me—instead of wearing it. Obviously, he caught the last part of our conversation because he says, “Appreciate the… um assistance, bro.”

  “No problem, man.” Jake nods. “Didn’t mean to come across as a creeper. But when there was still no sign of you two, we got a little concerned. After we located you, we locked the area down. Didn’t want anyone catching you unawares.” Lowering his voice, he adds, “I—um, will also take care of any footage from cameras in the stairwell.” Oh my God, why didn’t I think of that? Hey Nina, saw your ass on YouTube… literally. Marco extends a fist, and they do the whole bro gratitude thing before Jake walks to the door of the apartment, unlocks it, and disarms the security system. “Just finished making a sweep of the place, so you’re good to go. Let me know if you need anything.” Before he moves away, he pauses next to me to add, “Sorry about the teasing, Nina. But it’s sort of a rite of passage. For what it’s worth, we wouldn’t bother unless we considered you one of us.”

  I’m strangely touched by the explanation. I take them both by surprise when I briefly hug the other man. After all, I owe him for protecting not only Marco’s privacy but mine as well. Jake laughs at Marco’s possessive growl before disappearing down the hallway. “He’s a nice guy,” I say truthfully. “You’re lucky to be surrounded by so many family members.”

  “Mostly, yeah,” Marco says as he walks into the kitchen. A few moments later, he returns with a bottle of water for each of us. He absently pushes a stray hair behind my ear. My bun from earlier has long since fallen victim to our stairwell romp. “There are times it’s been both a blessing and a curse, but they’ve always had my back. There are some within the family who aren’t as… intuitive as others. But I trust all of them with my life. And yours, Belle.”

  I take the bottle that he extends and twist the cap off. After downing half the bottle, I wait as he does the same. “Even now, with all that’s happened? Hits on people all around you, including an attempt on your own life? Has any of those events shaken your faith in your own family?” He runs a hand through his hair and absently rubs his temple. He’s so exhausted that I regret bringing up something so heavy now. He’s a very shrewd man. If I’ve thought it, then there is no way he hasn’t. And for a family as close as the Morettis, suspicion within their folds would be torturous to even contemplate. I place my hand on his forearm and give it an understanding squeeze. “Forget I asked. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. I’m going to take a quick shower before bed.”

  I’ve made it a few steps when he says quietly, “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Belle, and I fucking hate it more than you can imagine. Franklin and Frankie Jr. were one thing, but the shit that’s followed has me kind of freaked the fuck out. I have no answers for any of that—not even an inkling—and I don’t know why. I can’t help but wonder if it’s because there are no clues or simply that I don’t want to see what could well be in my own backyard.”

  I mull over his words as he moves away. “Why do you see my stepfather and stepbrother’s deaths differently? Does it mean that you know who killed them, or is it that you don’t care?”

  He freezes, literally turns to stone.

  What is going on?

  Does he know more than he’s told me?

  Even though he’s facing away from me, I can sense his indrawn breath. Can practically hear his brain whirling frantically. The entire thing lasts no more than twenty or thirty seconds, but the doubt it casts in its wake will remain much longer. His expression when he turns to me shows nothing out of the ordinary, and it’s as if I’ve imagined the whole thing. Even if he does have an ink
ling, we’re talking a probable mafia hit, and other than my last name, I’m very much an outsider and not privy to that information. As he’s told me many times before, it’s not safe for us to even be having a conversation pertaining to family business. I expect him to shrug my questions off, but he closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms. My face rests in the crook of his neck and his hands smooth up and down my spine. “I have nothing concrete, Belle. Frankie’s interests and side activities put him on the radar of a lot of people—none of them good. He drew attention not only to himself but also to all the Gavinos. And that’s just the little I know or have heard from various sources. Probably plenty hasn’t been uncovered yet. So yeah, I’m not exactly shocked that something happened to him. And even though he knew his son’s faults, Franklin would have laid down his life to protect him. Pretty much figure it went down that way.”

  What he says makes sense, and it’s along the lines of what I’ve thought as well. But it feels wrong, in a way that I can’t lay my finger on. It’s been a hell of a day, and we’re both wiped. My already active imagination is no doubt running on overdrive because of it. I pause at his bedroom door, the one I’ve taken as my own, and wonder if he plans to join me. But he continues toward the guest bathroom, and I swallow my disappointment at the thought of spending another night alone. So much for his speech about me belonging to him. “Good night,” I call out to his retreating back.

  I’m already across the threshold when suddenly he’s back, appearing confused. “What’s with the brushoff?”

  Well, that makes two of us. Because I must surely resemble a deer in headlights. “I… what are you talking about?”

  He closes his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose before opening them. “I thought it went without saying that you would do whatever you do before bed and meet me in the spare room.”