Page 19

CHAPTER 19

D’Angelo

“What else is in the box?”

Oliver had recovered faster than I expected, especially considering his sexual inexperience, so I wasn’t prepared for the question. I stared at the box, and for a moment even I couldn’t remember what it contained.

The throbbing arousal still trapped in my pants and stealing all the blood from my brain probably didn’t help.

After an awkward moment of silence where my brain struggled to reboot, I grinned at him.

“Just a few toys I thought would be fun.”

Rummaging through the box with one hand, I pulled out a couple of basic vibrators. There was more, but I figured Oliver wouldn’t be ready for anything too intense, so they stayed in the box.

Maybe another day.

Oliver stared wide-eyed at the three different vibrators I laid out on the bed for his perusal.

“Why do you have a box of sex toys?”

I shrugged, not at all self-conscious. “I thought they would be fun.”

Shaking his head, Oliver still couldn’t look away from the objects on the bed. “Yeah, but... you said you were only staying in Baltimore temporarily.” He finally looked away from the vibrators to narrow his eyes at me. “Did you buy those specifically with the hope of using them on me?”

Picking up one of the toys—a moderately sized green dildo that vibrated and had rotating ball bearings just under the silicone surface—and spun it between my fingers. “Just wishful thinking. I always like to plan ahead.”

Hazel eyes watched the toy in my hand with uncertainty. “I’m not sure if that’s hot, or creepy.”

“Let’s go with hot.” I let the tip of the dildo trail over Oliver’s thigh, turning it on for just a moment so he could feel the vibrations. “I thought green would be your color, but now I’m not so sure. What’d you think?”

When Oliver didn’t immediately answer me, I set the toy aside and lay next to him, so we were more eye to eye.

“We don’t have to use these if you don’t want, but I have a feeling...” I tugged at the ropes still securing his wrists to the headboard. “You like things a little less... vanilla. But it’s your choice. What do you want?”

He leaned as close as the restraints on his wrists would allow. It wasn’t enough for us to kiss, which seemed to be what he wanted, but our foreheads did touch. “Why bother with toys when you could just fuck me for real?”

He spread his legs open further in invitation.

I laughed. “Tempting, but not like this.” I ran my hand down his torso until I grabbed one deliciously soft thigh. “When I do claim you, I’m going to do it properly. Right now, this is just about making you feel good to distract you from those overactive thoughts of yours. Not very romantic for your first time.”

Oliver moaned low as I squeezed the sensitive flesh of his thigh a little tighter. Although he’d just come a few minutes ago, his cock twitched with excitement.

“The gray one,” he finally said, his voice gruff and breathless.

I looked back at the toys waiting on the bed and frowned. “The gray one? But that’s such a boring color.”

“You’re the one who bought it,” Oliver mumbled. “You asked me what I want, and that’s what I chose. Also...” He bit his lip, hesitating as he looked up at me through lowered eyelashes. “You should undress.”

“What?” I asked, although my widening grin gave me away. I’d heard what he said; I just wanted to make him say it louder.

His eyes scrunched closed and his cheeks turned crimson, but he spoke with a full voice, practically shouting. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked. You still have all your clothes. Take them off.”

Standing from the bed, I gave him an over exaggerated bow. “How can I say no to such a command?”

Removing my clothes with care, I draped each piece over the nearby chair. I could feel Oliver’s gaze on me the whole time. While I knew there was nothing for me to be ashamed about physically, I did wonder what he thought about the sight of my body. The cigarette burns on my chest and the old knife wound on my forearm that I’d shown him weren’t my only scars.

Several bullet wounds decorated my body like starbursts, and slashing marks came in all sizes on my skin. There were even several claw marks over my shoulder blade from an incident where I’d tussled with a pack of attack dogs.

Overall, my body bore the evidence of the danger of my life. The scars were a reminder of who I really was, and I feared the sight of them would turn Oliver away.

However, he didn’t even seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t care. He was too busy looking me up and down with hungry eyes.

I climbed back onto the bed and knelt over him. Despite my earlier statement, it was really tempting to just sink into him. If he weren’t a virgin, I probably would have. I was certain that he would open so beautifully for me, but no one deserved to have their first time during a moment of such heightened emotion.

That was how I’d lost my own virginity. It was right after I’d taken someone’s life for the first time, and the emotional backlash had convinced me to drag the first available person to bed.

Oliver deserved better than that, so I would control my own desires and content myself with bringing him pleasure in other ways.

Settling back between his legs, I propped a pillow under his hips for more support. With one hand, I selected the gray toy Oliver had picked out, and with the other, I grabbed the bottle of lube again. Although the toy was a boring color, I understood why he had picked that one.

It was the same reason I’d bought it in the first place. It not only vibrated, but also moved, shifting back and forth to provide as much stimulation as possible. Along with the subtle ridges sculpted along the shaft, it should easily drive him wild.

After slicking the vibrator with lube, I kissed him just because I could. I felt him trembling, but the heated look in his eyes, and the way he eagerly tried to wrap his legs around me, said it was from anticipation rather than fear.

Pressing a few quick kisses to his neck, I moved down his body and slipped a pair of fingers inside him. He was still open from my earlier ministrations, so it didn’t take long until I felt confident that he would easily be able to accept the toy.

Lining up the head of the vibrator with his hole, I nipped at his thigh, which rested near my head. “Deep breath and relax for me.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything as he let his head rest against the headboard.

As I’d hoped, the toy slipped inside him without too much resistance. The sound of his moan sent my already burning arousal into overdrive. His legs twitched and writhed as the toy settled deeply inside him, and his breathing turned erratic.

I gave him a moment to adjust, before turning on the toy to the lowest setting.

The response was instantaneous. Oliver keened as his senses were overwhelmed, and his whole body writhed like an eel. If not for the ropes tying down his wrists, he would have probably squirmed right off the bed.

Turning the vibrator up to the next level, I started shifting it around inside him, looking for his sweet spot, which I’d found earlier.

I knew I’d hit the right spot when his whimpers turned to actual begging.

“Mmmm. Please. Oh, fuck. Please. I... Ah, so good.”

I could have listened to his pleading all day. Toying with him was a heady feeling. He was helpless under my hand, and his pleasure was mine to control.

Giving in to my sadistic urges, I turned the vibrator up two more levels at once, and kissed him to swallow his shocked cries. He was trembling so hard; I knew he was close to his end.

So was I. The taste of Oliver’s desperation was too intoxicating for me to withstand for long.

Using my free hand, I started stroking my own cock in the same rhythm that I moved the vibrator inside him. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine I was fucking him properly, especially when I made cute little noises with each thrust of the toy.

We finished at the same time, gasping into each other’s mouths as we both spilled over his stomach.

With my face buried against his neck, I slowly regained my senses. Once I could breathe normally again, I untied his wrists, and pulled him into my arms so he lay with his head pillowed on my chest.

His hand stroked the scars lying directly over my heart. “The toy was fun, but you said you wanted to claim me properly.”

I idly untangled a few knots in his hair. “Yeah. This was just an emotional release for you. When I’m finally inside you for the first time, it should be more special than this.”

He nodded, practically burying his face against my chest so that his words tickled my skin. “That means you... want to keep seeing me?”

Tipping his head up to face me, I looked directly into his eyes to give his words the consideration they deserved. “Why wouldn’t I? If anything, I’m surprised you still want to see me.”

It was only when I said it out loud that I realized he never actually claimed he wanted to continue seeing me. The thought that this might be our only time together had crossed my mind, but it didn’t feel real until that moment.

He didn’t hold my gaze for long and soon looked down with a hint of sadness staining his expression. “I just thought, if my father was a part of your organization, and he stole something from you fifteen years ago that got you in trouble with the Russian mafia—God! That is so weird to say—then it would make sense if you don’t trust me anymore.”

Grabbing his hand, I pressed a kiss to his palm. “I still haven’t pieced everything together, but I know one thing for certain. Your father’s actions have nothing to do with you. He was a selfish man who stole what wasn’t his and ended up hurting you in order to save himself.”

“Yeah.” Oliver spoke the word like a sigh as his hand started running over my chest again.

At first, I thought he was just seeking comfort, but then I realized he was counting the cigarette burn scars on my chest.

When he counted the last one, he finally looked up and met my eye again. “You said your father did this to you?”

Removing his hand from my chest, I laced our fingers together instead. “Don’t misunderstand. These weren’t done out of hatred or a desire to hurt me. In fact, they’re an expression of love.”

Oliver raised a skeptical brow and looked at me like I was crazy.

I laughed and kissed his forehead.

“It’s true. These were to help me learn how to handle pain. I was destined to take over as head of my family one day, and someone in my position would inevitably face a lot of danger. The ability to endure pain has saved my life more than once. These scars are a symbol that my father loved me enough to ensure I would survive no matter what.”

Although he still didn’t seem to fully believe me, Oliver nodded and let his head rest back on my chest. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I guess family is just always complicated.” He paused for a moment, and I felt him relax as his exhaustion caught up with him. “My family. I need to speak with them. I need to hear, from their own mouths, why they never told me about my father’s mafia connection and that the fire might have been intentional.”

“Of course.” I planted one last kiss on the top of his head as he fell asleep. “I want to speak with them as well. They might have some of the answers that I need.”

I waited for a while, watching Oliver sleep. At least recent events hadn’t affected his rest, for he seemed perfectly at peace. Eventually, when I was certain he was deep in his dreams, I slipped out of his arms and headed for the bathroom. I took a moment to clean myself up, then returned with a warm washcloth to do the same for him.

With each gentle stroke of the washcloth, I worshiped every inch of his skin. Both the smooth and the scarred. The damage to his chest hadn’t been as bad as on his arm, or his face. In fact, his face seemed to have been hurt the worst. This struck me as odd at first. Usually, when someone was hurt, their first instinct was to protect their face. The arm probably should have been the worst, as it would have been used as a shield for the rest of him.

Almost as soon as the question popped into my mind, the answer immediately followed. Oliver had used his arm as a shield, but not for himself. His arms had been occupied with protecting his brother, leaving his face completely exposed. Since skin on the face was more delicate than the rest of the body, it hadn’t stood a chance without protection.

The image of a younger version of Oliver stumbling his way unprotected through a raging fire brought an unexpected wave of emotion surging up in my chest. I wasn’t usually the type to get so interested in other people’s struggles, but something about this man had cut right to the heart of me from the very first moment I met him.

Cupping his face, I pressed a quick kiss to the scarred skin of his check, then tucked the sheet around him and left him to sleep.

Then I stood from the bed and threw my clothes back on. They were wrinkled, and my hair was a mess. There was no hiding what I’d just done, but it didn’t matter.

Eva and Gavriil had certainly seen me in worse condition.

Stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind me, I found my bodyguards waiting in the penthouse’s office.

We regarded each other silently for a moment until Eva lowered her eyes to the floor. “I won’t apologize. It’s my job to take care of any threat to you, and I’m not yet convinced that boy isn’t a threat.”

For the moment, I ignored Eva’s use of the word ‘boy’ to describe Oliver. While he was younger, and much more inexperienced, he was far from being a child. Especially not after what we’d just done. However, there were bigger concerns to worry about.

Brushing some of the wrinkles from my clothes, I gave both of my bodyguards a hard look. “He’s not a threat to me. However, this is unusual for you. In the past when you suspected one of my lovers to be a traitor, you brought it to my attention and let me handle it. Why take it into your own hands this time?”

Eva and Gavriil shared a glance, looking unusually bashful.

This time it was Gavriil who spoke up, stepping forward just enough to ensure he had my attention. “Well, Boss, you seem more... invested this time. You’ve never put so much effort into dating someone before.”

“And you think I lack... conviction.”

My clothes were as fixed as they could be. With one last tug at the cuffs of my shirt, I stepped closer until I was almost in the pair’s personal space. Without warning, I grabbed each of them by the lapel. “I will say this once. Any threat will be eliminated without hesitation. Any threat.”

Silently, both Eva and Gavriil nodded. Although I was indirectly threatening them as well, they actually seemed comforted by my little display.

Like a pack of wolves, they needed to be reminded that their Alpha still had the power to lead them.

Smoothing their clothes back into place, I patted them both on the shoulders and then took a seat behind the office desk.

“Now, tell me everything you’ve learned about Oliver’s family. I know you two wouldn’t have just left it alone after finding out about Arturo Radcliffe. He supposedly died a few years after stealing from us, right? Is that really the truth?”

Eva and Gavriil sat in the chairs on the other side of the desk, spines as straight as iron rods.

“It seems to be true,” Gavriil said. “We’ve found the coroner’s report. Arturo Radcliffe really did die of cancer.”

“Karmic,” Eva added with a wry twist to her mouth.

Gavriil paused for a moment to see if she had anything else to add, then continued with a bit more exasperation in his voice. “However, we did come across something odd. The reason we didn’t immediately make the connection between Oliver and Arturo Radcliffe was because the whole family switched to using the mother’s maiden name. Including Oliver’s Grandmother, who is actually his father’s mother.”

Pulling out the knife stored on the desk, disguised as a letter opener, I idly twirled the blade between my fingers.

“That is odd. Changing her name would make sense if she doesn’t want to be connected to someone who stole from the Italian mafia, but why change to her daughter-in-law’s maiden name instead of her own?”

Eva slid an actual paper file across the desk toward me, which held even more info than what I’d seen on Gavriil’s phone earlier. “We looked into that, too. Oliver’s Grandmother currently goes by the name Ingrid Grant, using her daughter-in-law’s last name. Her married name was Ingrid Radcliffe. But her maiden name was Ingrid Falke. When we looked into the name Ingrid Falke, we got an odd response.”

Looking through the information, I watched Eva and Gavriil over the top of the file. “Odd, how?”

The pair shared another look that had the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

“Well...” Gavriil hesitated, which wasn’t natural for him. “When we asked our contacts about the name Ingrid Falke, they were unusually keen to avoid talking about her. A bit too... insistent that they knew nothing.”

“Your contacts?” I repeated. “You mean your Russian contacts.”

Although they were loyal to me, Eva and Gavriil had originally been a gift from my Russian relatives as a sign of good faith between our organizations. That meant they had Russian connections that even I couldn’t contact. It often came in handy, and in this case, it added to my suspicions.

“What do the Russians have to do with Oliver’s Grandmother? I don’t like having so many questions without answers. How was Oliver’s father, a low-level enforcer, able to get away with stealing so much from us without getting caught? How are the Russians connected? Why has information been so hard to get a hold of?”

I slammed the knife into the desk, the blade sinking nearly two inches into the wood.

“Something isn’t adding up.”