Page 37 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)

CHAPTER 34

GAbrIEL

I lead Nero into my bedroom and for the first time he takes his eyes off of me, letting out a soft, Ah , as he looks around. It’s not exactly luxurious. I prefer crisp white linen to satin sheets, and there are a bunch of books about plants lying on the nightstand, each folded into another to keep my place.

“Yes,” Nero says after a moment. “This is you.” He sits on the bed, fully clothed. “Get on your knees again,” he tells me, almost conversationally, “and take off my shoes.” I sink down and obey, pulling the laces open. I can feel his eyes on me, watching every movement. “Did you like it when you made a mess all over my shoes, Gabriel? Did you like cleaning it up afterward?”

My cheeks heat. But I nod.

“Did you think about it afterward, wonder at yourself?”

“I jerked off thinking about it, right here in my bed the morning after,” I tell him, just as casually as he sounds.

He gives a quick, surprised laugh. “Then perhaps that is how I will mark you as mine. By spraying all over your beautiful face.” I shiver a little and he smiles. “Would you like that?”

I nod.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“I would like it,” I say hoarsely.

“And so would I. But today I intend to lay my claim much deeper. I want to take you, Gabriel. All of you—and not just physically.” He wraps a hand softly around my throat, making me pause and look up at him. “I want everything from you. Do you understand? I want to know that I own not just that delightful body of yours, but also...” He presses a finger to my chest. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” The heart that he wants is running faster and faster under his touch.

“And do you trust me to take care of you?” he asks.

I do. Despite everything—despite his games, despite the way he’s blown hot and cold, I really do think I can trust him this time. Or at least, I’m willing to give him another chance. “I trust you, Nero.”

“You are such a good boy,” he whispers. “So sweet and eager. So ready to please. You have no idea the things I will make you do for me, the things you will beg me to let you do. And I will treat you like a prince.”

For how long, though? That’s what the fearful part of me wants to ask, even as I mechanically remove his shoes and socks and then look up for further instruction. But Nero pulls me up next to him, his mouth descending onto mine once more, hot and demanding. Desire drowns out the fear and I melt against him, moan when he pulls his lips away. “On the bed, on your hands and knees,” he tells me. “Legs spread so I can see that sweet treat between your cheeks.”

I’ve never felt so clumsy, my limbs so heavy with need that I have to move slowly and cautiously—too slowly, because Nero slaps my ass lightly, a warning. “If you don’t hurry, I’ll have to punish you.”

I glance over my shoulder, and there’s a look of anticipation in his eyes. I’m pretty sure he’d love an excuse to spank me. Hell, I’m pretty sure I’d love it, too. So I make a deliberate effort to go slower—and he knows exactly what I’m up to.

“You think you can take control of this situation?” he asks, amused. “You think you can make me do what you want, Gabriel? Would you like to feel your cheeks burn under my hand, your ass sore and throbbing? I could reduce you to tears if I spanked you as hard as you’ve deserved sometimes—and you’d love every minute.”

I fall onto my side, daring him. “Yeah,” I tell him. “I would.”

“But I promised not to hurt you,” he says, voice low and wicked. “Didn’t I? So instead, I will make it very, very good. So good that you can’t stop begging for more.” He runs his palm up my thigh, turning me over roughly on the bed, then grabs at my asscheek. His blunt nails dig in, the sting bright and perfect. “So good that you forget yourself and let me in.” His other hand comes up to wrap around the back of my neck, and he leans low over me, lips an inch from my ear. “And if there is any pain, it will only be what you desire.”

He stands, stripping off his shirt, and I watch all those tattoos come back into view. “You like looking at me,” he says. It’s not a question. “I saw you watching me, little gardener, when I lay around the pool. Watching me and wanting me. Your eyes have always betrayed you.” He laughs at my embarrassed grin, and then he throws aside one of my pillows and seats himself in its place, his back up against the headboard, still wearing his pants.

I’m so busy watching the muscles in his torso as they bunch and release under his skin that I grunt in surprise when Nero leans over to heft me, throwing me across his lap as though I weigh nothing at all, my legs splaying wide and my hard dick pressed into his thigh. He doesn’t seem to care, even though I’m pretty sure I’m smearing pre-cum all over his very expensive pants.

One hand is holding me by the back of the neck. The other strokes over my lower back and my flank, deceptively soothing. “If you want me to stop, really want me to stop—say ‘butterfly.’ Say it now.”

I can’t help the little chuckle. “Butterfly?”

“Yes, little gardener. Butterfly. If you say it, I will stop whatever I’m doing. Immediately.”

“And then what?” I ask unsteadily. Suspiciously.

“And then we’ll find another game to play. But that’s the only way in which you can control me, Gabriel. In everything else…” His hand strokes lower, cupping one cheek and squeezing. “In everything else, I am in charge. And right now, you are mine to do with as I please. Isn’t that right?”

He grips my ass hard, making me gasp out my, “Yes!” He squeezes the other cheek and I groan, feeling the heat of his touch seep into my skin.

“Yes. You will give way to me, won’t you? You will let me have my fun.” And then he brings his hand down, right where my thigh curves into my ass. I jerk hard, let out a hiss as the sting spreads out. And then he does it again and again, until I’m bucking around under his hand, and he has to wrap an arm around me to keep me in place for another round, until it stops abruptly—and it feels like a loss.

“I like it when you squirm,” he tells me as I catch my breath. “I like it even better when you beg.”

“Please,” I manage, because I’m desperate for more.

“What is it, Gabriel? What do you need?”

“More.”

“I can’t give you more if I don’t know what you want.” He rubs the spot, soothing and yet somehow intensifying the sensation.

“Spank me,” I pant.

“With pleasure.”

This time he doesn’t stop after one blow, or three, or even six. His palm lands over and over, the pain sharp and then deep, throbbing, spreading through me until my skin feels thicker, somehow—sensitized. I’m moving under his hand, but I’m not trying to get away. I’m moving with him in rhythm, thrusting helplessly into his lap, seeking friction. And just when I’m starting to think the pain is too much, he stops. His hand comes back to caress me, gentle fingers brushing across my hot skin.

“I have wanted to do that for a very long time,” he sighs. “And you enjoyed it too, hm?” He helps me off his lap and back onto the bed, then moves down to lie next to me. He gives my flushed, hard dick a lazy push with one finger, watching it roll over my belly. “Maybe next time you talk back to me, you will remember this moment. And maybe it will make you push back even harder.” He smirks at me. “You wouldn’t be Gabriel otherwise, would you?”

“You like it when I fight back. I fucking knew it.”

“Of course. You are a challenge as well as a puzzle. And the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The most perfect.” He says it so seriously that I’m not sure if he’s being sincere or sarcastic. I just lie there, letting him run his fingers over me. “Your eyes are the most soothing shade of green. Your mouth is a paradise. And these,” he says, pinching my nipple until I gasp, “are delightful.” He tweaks the other, and my dick pulses in response. “Your skin is like pale gold,” he goes on, looking down my body. “And that ass of yours— mm . I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. Did you enjoy having my cock driving into it? Yes,” he agrees as I nod, “of course you did. And you will enjoy it again soon—but first, I want my treat. So be a good boy and do what I asked you to do. Get on your hands and knees.”

I pull myself up almost reluctantly, but I know whatever Nero has planned, I’ll enjoy it. So I obey him, settling on all fours. He pushes my shoulders down so that my ass is up high. I’ve never felt so exposed, but his hands running over me give me something to concentrate on, to focus on.

“Spread your knees wider,” he tells me, and then his finger strokes down my crack, making me clench up reflexively. He makes a tutting sound and slaps my ass again, but gently. “Who is in control?”

It takes me a second to grit it out between clenched teeth. “You are.”

“Correct. Unless you are thinking about butterflies, little gardener.”

I could ask him to stop, and he would. I know he would. But I don’t want to stop. “I’m not.”

“Very good. Because right now, your only thoughts should be of me.”

“They are,” I tell him at once, and truthfully.

“And they should be of my hands,” he murmurs, slapping my ass once more. “And my fingers.” They’re moving lightly down, finding their way to my hole and massaging in slow circles. I bite back a moan. “But most of all, I want you to think about my mouth.” And then I feel his hot breath, his nose pressing into my crack, and his tongue?—

Oh, God. His tongue. He’s lapping at my asshole, warm and wet, and it’s the most incredible sensation. His mouth is so soft and the tip of his tongue is so strong, and he’s swirling it around and then pressing harder, his tongue stiffening up and forcing its way into my body.

He’s tongue-fucking me.

His hands clamp on my cheeks and pull them wide, opening me up to him. I can feel my asshole spasming, the muscle tightening up around him, and he pulls his mouth away to nip at the curve of my ass, to slap the sensitive skin once more. “You told me last time you’re not so sweet, Gabriel—but you are a liar. You are delicious. The perfect dessert. And later,” he says, going back down and lapping at me again, making me cry out, “I will top you off with my own cream.”

It’s humiliating...and yet incredibly hot. No one has ever talked to me like this. No one has ever done what he’s doing now. And I can feel how much he’s enjoying himself. He’s humming his appreciation, the vibrations adding a new dimension to the whole experience.

He moves lower, his mouth finding the spot just below my asshole, the one that’s full of nerves—and he drags his teeth across it.

I squirm away at once, but he yanks me back roughly by the hips and does it again, and the pain is so sharp, so perfect, that it makes my cock jerk, sending a string of pre-cum dripping onto the bedspread.

“Oh, little gardener,” he murmurs, “what a dirty boy you are. You enjoy being forced open, made vulnerable. I think you would enjoy anything I chose to do to you, wouldn’t you? You would pretend to protest, pretend to struggle if I held you down and fucked you hard, fucked your orgasm right out of you.” He spits right on my asshole, pressing in with his thumb until it reaches the first knuckle. “You were right, Gabriel. I like it when you struggle. When you fight back. You can try to push me away, you can curse me out—because there is only one word that will make me stop. But I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that, will I?”

“N-no,” I stutter, as he licks across my hole again.

“What a perfect fit for me,” he sighs. “You’re a dream come true.”

And then he’s licking and sucking at me again, his tongue fucking in and out of my hole, hands pulling me so wide open so that I feel like I’m going to rip right in half. His tongue is stabbing deeper, and then his thumbs slide in—both of them—and I can feel the stretch, his mouth sliding down to suck at my balls, and oh, God, his teeth slide over my flesh again—I’m dripping all over the bed without a single touch to my cock, moaning loudly, pleading…

He stops, moves away from the bed entirely, and when I turn my head to glare at him, he’s grinning and wiping his mouth. “Oh, Gabriel,” he pants. “You make me want to do the most obscene things to you. I need a moment to collect myself. Because after all, you’re a good boy. And if I’m going to corrupt you completely, then I want to take my time.” He heads into the bathroom that comes off my room, and I hear the water running.

When he returns a moment later, I’m still in the same position, still trying to get my breathing under control. My heart is racing and the pain of his teeth, his fingers, his mouth is slowly fading away, but not the pleasure.

“I can see you thinking,” he says, a hint of a smile on his face. “But the only thing you should be thinking about is the fact that you belong to me.”

“Are you going to fuck me now?” I ask.

“Is that what you want, tesoro ? Do you want my cock to replace my tongue?” I’m desperate for it, actually. His mouth is incredible. His cock is even better. But I just nod. “I could finger you until you beg me to let you come,” he suggests, and I let out a groan of frustration. “Or I could use your mouth again and take my own pleasure. It is a very talented mouth. But...” He pauses, his gaze running over me as he palms himself through his pants. He still hasn’t taken them off. “But I want to make sure you understand that you belong to me. And I think there’s only one way to do that. Turn over on your back. Pull up your knees. And then ask politely for my cock.”

My face is flaming as I turn, pulling up my legs just as he told me. He likes making me uncomfortable, but I don’t care. I want him. “Please would you fuck me, Nero?”

“Such a pretty, filthy toy,” he breathes. “You have no idea how much you’re pleasing me right now, Gabriel. But in a moment, I’ll show you.” He goes to the nightstand and tugs open the drawer, finding the lube I keep in there. I watch as he mounts the bed, positioning himself between my legs, and flips open the cap of the lube, drizzling a long line of it along the cleft of my ass. It’s cold, but his fingers are hot as they follow it down, pressing lightly, finding their way easily into me.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “Already wide open for me.” The fingers of one hand are still inside me as the other tugs open the button on his waistband, slides down his zipper, and pulls out his cock.

My eyes fly to his. “Your pants?—”

“Will need a thorough cleaning,” he agrees. “But I want your scent all over them, Gabriel. I want you to mark them so that whenever I wear these pants again, I will remember how desperately you wanted my cock inside you.”

His fingers disappear, replaced by the thick press of his cock. He pushes forward, stretching me wide, a slight burn as his blunt head sinks into my body deep—deeper—I gasp out, but he doesn’t stop, just keeps pressing in, watching my face with delight as he does. “Oh, yes,” he says with satisfaction, “you like that.”

“Fuck,” is all I can manage.

“You like feeling owned,” he goes on, stretching out over me. “You like knowing who is in charge. You like knowing who is in control. And it’s not the pretty little gardener with the sweet smile and the bright green eyes, is it? Oh, no. It’s the bad man, the cruel man.”

“You’re not—so cruel—right now—” I pant out, because the way he’s moving now, slow and steady, is the sweetest torture, his cockhead dragging across my most sensitive spot in the most perfect way, so that I’m shuddering, my dick pulsing and leaking against my belly.

“Not now,” he agrees. “You enjoyed my tongue very much. You enjoyed my mouth, my fingers. But I think you enjoy my cock most of all, yes? How it fills you up and fucks you right. Show me how much you want it, Gabriel. Show me how well I own you.”

And I’m doing just that, thrusting my hips up to meet him, reaching out to grab him, pulling him close. But he’s still in charge. He’s always in charge. Because when I let go of my legs and reach for him, he grabs back, pinning my hands over my head, slamming into me hard, so hard that his cock reaches places inside me I didn’t know existed, his mouth landing on my chest and sucking hard, biting and then soothing the pain with his tongue, leaving marks.

Claiming me. Inside and out.

“Oh—” I can’t stop my astonished gasp as I recognize the first signs of orgasm, the way it starts to spiral low in my belly, the way my nuts tighten up, the tingling in my shaft. My untouched shaft.

“I told you,” Nero pants viciously, “that I could fuck your orgasm out of you. So come for me, Gabriel. Show me how completely I own you.”

I’m so ready for it, so primed and oversensitive, that all I have to do is give in to the physical sensations and let them wash over me. My climax is almost painful, my balls spasming as I shoot in thick ropes between us.

“Beautiful,” Nero murmurs, with something that sounds like awe. “Just beautiful.” He kisses my cheek, my forehead, strangely gentle, even while his hips piston on, his cock driving inside me.

“Come in me,” I beg. “I need it.” His hips snap, his body shudders all over, and then he’s groaning, long and loud, and I can feel the flex and throb of his cock against my over-sensitive walls.

“ Mine ,” he hisses out. “You’re mine.”

He not only cleans me up after, he stays right there with me in the bed, resting his head on his arm and watching my face. “After the wedding,” he murmurs. “Things will be easier then.”

“Why?”

He swings an arm across me, snuggling up to me in a very un-Nero manner. “They just will be.” And then he sighs. “But in the meantime, little gardener…it will be better for you if we aren’t seen together.”

I stiffen in his arms. “So you’re ghosting me again, huh?” I pull away, turn over in the bed. “I can’t believe I?—”

“Stop,” he says, so gently and so unlike him that I do. “Gabriel. I told you, didn’t I, that I wouldn’t hurt you anymore?”

“Pushing me away is hurting me. What’s so hard to understand about that? Can’t you see what it does to me when you?—”

“Please, please, stop.” He pulls me back into his arms. “Gabriel, I have given you no reason to trust me, I know that. But I must ask you to trust me now. To trust that I…that I want to be with you. But for the next few days—until the wedding—just stay away from me, and trust that it’s for a good reason.”

This is the first time I’ve ever seen Nero Andretti begging. And damn do I wish he was begging for something more palatable. But is he lying? I can never tell.

I look deep into his eyes, and he doesn’t look away, even when I pull his hand up to my chest, lay his palm flat against it. “You told me before that you wanted all of me—including my heart. Was that a lie?”

He watches me watching him. “It was not a lie.”

“I’ll try to trust you,” I tell him at last. “That’s the best I can do.”