Page 88 of Brutal Heir

If anyone were to look up…

Still, I find myself dragging his zipper down.

His cock springs free, and feckin’ hell it’s a lot bigger than I remembered it from all those countless, torturous baths.

“Rory, no,” he grits out against my lips, but with both hands occupied, he can’t swat me away this time.

“Why?”

A hard line slashes across his jaw before he shakes his head. Then with one hand holding me, the other drags my panties down and he drops to his knees before me.

“Ale… what are you doing?”

His hands clamp around my thighs, and he spreads me wide before his tongue streaks through my pulsing center.

Feck me.

My head falls back, the rainbow of lights flashing across my vision.

His mouth devours me. I’m unraveling. Nothing exists but the heat and pressure and the need building to a maddening pitch. I want to scream. I want to beg. I don’t know if I’m moaning or cursing.

“Mmm, just as good as I remembered it, Red.” His heated words vibrate across my clit, and I’m already writhing with desire, dangling over the dancefloor. Which I’m fairly certain is incredibly dangerous for more reasons that one.

For a second, I’m so wrapped up in the fire licking through my core, I completely forget that it’s the second time he’s denied me his cock. And now, I need to know why. Gripping his hair, I grab a good handful and tug his head from between my legs, despite every nerve ending in my body screaming at me.

Not that I don’t love the attention of his tongue, but I need all of him. If I’m destined to burn, I’m going to have every terrible inch of Alessandro Rossi.

“Look at me, McFecker.”

He grins savagely, my arousal coating his chin.

“I’m already going to hell so I plan on enjoying the trip, and that means a taste of your cock, too.”

The smile wanes, a flicker of something unreadable in those eyes of ice and heat.

“Do you need me to beg, Rossi? If I haven’t made it clear, I want you to feck me, you eejit. Before what remains of my sanity returns and I realize what a terrible idea this is.” I tug on his hand, forcing him up to his feet.

His arm curls around my waist and he wedges himself between my thighs so his cock nearly hits my entrance.

“Tell me,” I whisper.

“I can’t…” he grits out.

“Damn it, Alessandro. We’ve been through so much together. We’ve seen each other at our absolute worst. What could be so bad?”

His expression morphs into one of pure misery, and I nearly take the question back. “I don’t know if I can.”

My brows furrow as I regard him, confusion cutting through the haze of lust. “Can what?”

He glances down at his cock, scowling. “I don’t know if Icanfuck you, Rory.”

Understanding finally washes over me. He hasn’t been with anyone else since the explosion. I assumed as much…

“Are you out of your feckin’ mind, Ale? I’ve never seen a man with so many hard-ons. You get an erection when I look at you funny.”

A rueful chuckle peals out, and he presses his forehead to mine. “Only with you, Red.”

Another realization sets in, this one inciting an unexpected wave of jealousy. It lashes through me, powerful and angry. “You tried with someone else?”