Page 40 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)
MY CHRISTMAS
R ory
Streaks of sunlight stream into the bedroom, drawing me from sleep. My head slowly bobs, the soft rise and fall of a bare chest beneath my cheek. My internal clock nudges me awake, but the warmth of his body lulls me back under. Alessandro.
I can’t remember ever sleeping so well as in this man’s arms.
I’m sore, a delicious ache pervading muscles I didn’t even know I had after the night of endless sex. I’ll say one thing: the patient has surpassed the teacher. The first few times we slept together he was gentle, taking it slow. I was afraid to somehow hurt him, but now?
The man is a beast, fecking me in positions I didn’t even know existed.
And shite, I can’t wait for him to wake up and do it all over again.
After last night at the Valentino-Rossi Christmas celebration, I needed a distraction.
Not that it hadn’t been lovely, but sitting there amidst all that chaotic love had sent memories of my dismal past rushing to the surface.
Even now, the memory creeps in, slithering into the sun-drenched room like a cold draft beneath a locked door…
The table is too quiet.
No one laughs. No one argues. Not like they used to.
The candles flicker against the soot-streaked windows, casting warped shadows along the wallpaper that had begun to curl at the corners.
Mam used to tape them back up with bits of leftover ribbon, always humming some old Irish hymn under her breath.
Now, they peel freely, little curls of decay marking the days since she’s been gone.
Da sits at the head of the table, eyes glassy but spine stiff, a tumbler of Jameson clenched so tight in his fist I think the glass might shatter. His plate sits untouched, the silver fork pristine beside the slab of dry ham and overcooked cabbage.
I can still hear the echo of Mam’s laugh, just barely. Like it imprinted itself on the walls. Like maybe, if I hold perfectly still, I can trap it before it fades entirely.
Blaine picks at his potatoes. Bran stares at the flickering TV in the other room, the static hum of the BBC anchoring us in the silence. No one says a word about Mam’s empty chair, though it screams louder than any of us ever could.
I force myself to chew the rubbery meat even though my throat has gone dry. The knife in my hand trembles just slightly. I feel the weight of Da’s stare before I even look up.
“What are you blubberin’ about?” he mutters, low and sharp, his words slicing cleaner than the blade in my palm. “It’s Christmas. Eat your damn food.”
I flinch. So does Blaine.
“I’m not…” My voice breaks before I finish. I’m not crying. I hadn't let myself, not in front of him.
Da scoffs and downs the whiskey in one gulp. “Your mam wouldn’t want this weakness. She’d want you to act like an O’Shea.”
My hands curl into fists in my lap.
An O’Shea. Cold. Hard. Unbreakable. Like him.
Mam had been the only softness in this house. The only warmth. And without her, everything had gone gray. Even the Christmas lights, still strung across the fireplace, blink like they don’t want to be here either.
“Can I be excused?” I ask, staring down at my plate.
“Not till your plate’s clean.”
I nod. But I don’t eat another bite.
Later, when Da finally stumbles to bed and the house creaks beneath the weight of grief, I creep outside to the back garden, dragging the threadbare blanket from the couch with me.
The cold bites into my skin, but I don’t care.
I tilt my face to the stars and whisper, “Merry Christmas, Mam.” Even though it feels anything but.
I swear I hear her voice in the wind. Or maybe I just needed to.
And that night, I make myself a promise ? —
Someday, I’d find a new kind of Christmas. One with laughter. And light. And love.
One like I experienced last night at Luca Valentino’s home. From the little Alessandro has told me about his father and uncles, their past was a dark one, but somehow, they found the light. And I would too.
This. His body, his warmth, the way he makes me feel seen is what I wished for all those years ago in the dark. And now, I have it.
This would be my Christmas.
Lifting my head from Alessandro’s chest, I crawl beneath the covers and fit myself between his legs. His cock leans lazily to the side, but the moment my tongue grazes its silky head, it comes alive. Wrapping my hand around his growing length, I tease the sensitive skin around his crown.
A groan echoes from beyond the tent of bed linens.
“Mmm, Rory,” Alessandro growls, his hands blindly searching for me beneath the covers.
Determined in my mission, I glide my tongue up and down his shaft before taking him in my mouth.
“Fuck…” he groans. “What a way to wake up, Red.”
“Merry Christmas, Alessandro,” I mumble around his length.
“Oh, cazzo , that’s right. Merry Christmas.” He makes a feeble attempt to straighten, but I place my hand on his abs, halting him.
“I’m not done with you yet, Rossi.”
A flicker of mirth darkens his mismatched irises.
I toy with his balls with one hand, licking and sucking as I quicken my strokes.
He’s hard as hell now, his excitement igniting my own.
I take him all the way in, until his head is at the back of my throat.
Sometimes I forget how damned huge he is.
My head bobs faster as I feel his cock tensing beneath my tongue.
His physical reactions coupled with those sexy moans have heat pooling between my legs. As if he’s read my mind, his hand crawls beneath the covers, climbs up my leg and finds my throbbing center.
My head falls back, the instant his finger strokes my clit. “Oh, Ale…” I groan.
His hand curls around my hip, fingers digging into my flesh. “Get out from under there, Red.” His voice is a jagged whisper. “I want your mouth on mine and that beautiful pussy wrapped around my cock.”
Coming off his dick with a wet pop, I glance up at him with a wicked grin. “All you had to do was ask, McFecker. You know I live to serve.”
A warm chuckle vibrates his chest as I crawl up his body and settle across his hips. His cock is hard between my legs, and I glide over his shaft, rubbing against the hard ridges.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he hisses as he sits up and captures my nipple in his mouth. “I need to be inside you.” He lifts me like I weigh nothing and drops me onto that thick cock.
I sink onto him, a groan squeezing through my lips as he fills me up. “Oh, feckin’ hell,” I grind out.
His hands tighten around my hips, guiding me up and down, up and down in a relentless pace. “Do you like that, baby?”
“Mmm, yes.” Every nerve in my body vibrates with pleasure, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. More importantly, driving back all the dark memories of the past.
From now on, this would be Christmas.
Alessandro’s powerful body wrecking me in the most incredible way.
I draw his mouth to mine, claiming his lips as my own while my fingers dive into the soft hair at his nape. His body molds to mine, all the hard ridges giving way to my soft curves. Fire surges through my veins, pushing me toward the precipice.
“I’m going to come,” I moan against his mouth.
“Good. I need to feel your warm pussy squeezing my cock. I want to feel all of you, Rory.” He quickens his pace, arching his hips off the mattress to drive deeper and faster. Our bodies move as one, in perfect rhythm, our hearts beating in a matching tempo.
My head falls back as the surge of raw pleasure crashes over me, and the orgasm vibrates through every inch of my being. “Oh, my… Alessandro,” I moan.
He continues to thrust through the crashing waves, only extending the explosion of pleasure ricocheting inside me. Then once he’s wrung out every ounce of ecstasy, I feel him twitch inside me, a groan parting his lips.
“ Merda , Rory,” he growls. “ Dio , I love y—that.”
His breath catches. The words twist in the space between us before collapsing into silence.
My body stills. My heart doesn’t.
His eyes close before he falls back on the mattress, chest heaving beneath me.
I remain frozen for an instant, playing the last few seconds over in my mind. Did he just almost say…? No. I must have been imagining it, right?
His hands wind around my waist, drawing me flush against his body. He’s still inside me, his cum spilling between our tangled forms. But he doesn’t move and neither do I.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” he murmurs against my lips.
I roll the new nickname around in my mouth, and I’m not sure I hate it. I should, but I don’t.
“Baby, huh?”
He lifts a lazy shoulder. “I’m trying it out. What do you think?”
“I think you have a thing for nicknames.”
“Do I?” His dark brow rises into a teasing arch.
I splay out my hand, counting off my fingers. “Little leprechaun, she-devil, Red, tiny tyrant, wildling… The list goes on and on.”
“Hmm, maybe you’re right.”
“I think you need to stick with one and own it.”
“That’s a lot of pressure, tiny tyrant. I’m going to have to think on it before committing.”
I grin because the man may be an eejit, but I just can’t get enough of him.
He lifts me off his cock and drops me onto the mattress beside him, and I hate how much my body revolts at the loss of his. He slides to the edge of the mattress, and a boyish, uncertain smile that doesn’t belong to the king of the Velvet Vault but to the man beneath it slips across his lips.
“Wait here, I have something for you.”