Page 60 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)

CHAPTER 55

GAbrIEL

We strip off right there on the bed in stages, caught up in kissing, distracted by the taste and touch of each other. Even when we're naked, I can't bear not to have his mouth on mine, to feel his breath, proof that he is alive and here with me.

"Wait.” I break away.

" Wait? "

"We need—goddammit, why didn’t we go back to my place?—”

"Ah,” he says, reading my mind again. “Yes. Luckily, I came prepared." He reaches down to grab his pants up from the floor and fishes in the pocket.

"You came prepared? " I ask disbelievingly, as his fingers re-emerge with a few foil squares of lubricant.

He smirks at my expression. "After so many times being caught out, little gardener—although the coconut oil was pleasant, I must say—I told myself I would never be caught short again. So, yes, I came prepared. I grabbed a few of these before we left the hotel, as we were getting dressed. I didn’t know when or where we would do this again, but I knew we would—if we lived.”

“Wow,” I say, and then I start laughing despite myself. “You are really fucking dark sometimes, Nero.”

“Strange that no one has ever noticed before,” he deadpans. He rips open two of the packets and drenches his fingers. "Now open your legs."

"Kiss me again," I demand. His lips are warm and soft and strangely gentle, that side of Nero that no one else gets to see—maybe not even him—and I arch into the kiss, let myself surrender to him as his fingers find my hole, press gently inside.

"That's it, relax for me. Open up. Show me how much you love me. How much you need me."

I'm starting to feel that invisible balance shift between us.

Feel him begin to take the lead.

He gets me soaked and then he wipes off his hands on his pants, ignoring my laughing gasp of protest. "You're going to need a whole new wardrobe soon if you're not careful."

"I am never careful." His hand slides over my shoulder, down my arm, all the way until his fingers close around my wrist, a gentle suggestion. I let him grip me harder, let him pin me to the bed, move my limbs as though I have no will of my own.

And when it comes to Nero, maybe I don't.

He rolls on top of me now, his weight pushing the breath out of me as his teeth graze against my neck. His cock, slick with lubricant, presses against mine, and he grabs my other wrist so that my captivity is complete. "Gabriel," he breathes into my neck. "You always give way so beautifully."

I don't know what it is about Nero, why I can't ever just let him have his way without a struggle. But I test his hold on me, flexing my wrists under his hold.

"Ah," he says, eyes lighting up. "Yes. Fight me. Struggle and curse at me. Don't let me have it all my own way, tesoro . It's sweeter when I don't."

I take him at his word and buck up, trying to throw him off. And I try again. Again, harder?—

He laughs. "You call that a fight?"

So I kick and buck and try like hell to throw him off. It's a real fight this time, and that's the beauty of us. He's strong, but so am I; I can give as good as I get. But little by little, he gets the better of me, yanking me back each time I try to escape, his hands pinning me face down, grabbing at my ass, spreading my legs open?—

"This is what you need, little gardener," he growls. "Why pretend you don't?"

I can feel his cock sliding between my cheeks, blindly seeking its target. "Fuck you," I pant out.

"Talk to me about butterflies," he suggests. "Say no and mean it. But better yet, tell me that you're mine. Because we both know you are, Gabriel." He's right there, the head of his cock pressed against my knot... "Well?"

I spread my legs wider, let myself relax, let him push that thick tip inside and force a groan out of me.

"Say thank you," he tells me with mock severity. "Say 'Thank you, Nero, for knowing exactly what I need.'"

"Thank you," I choke out, and once the words have left my lips he keeps sliding in, a slow, deep push into my gut until he bottoms out.

He drops a kiss on the back of my shoulder with a happy hum. "You are very welcome. Now hold still while I use you the way you were meant to be used. Yes, you were made for me, Gabriel—let me show you."

Spread-eagled on top of me, he starts out slow, his hips rolling into me with a leisurely pace that's designed to torture, to tease. "I could fuck you forever," he sighs. " Per sempre, tesoro ."

I'm trying not to respond, but his cock is dragging across my prostate in a steady rhythm that's making it harder and harder. I can't stop myself from moaning, my back arching as my hips push back into him, my body greedy for more.

"That's right," he pants. "Show me your appreciation."

It's not just the physical pleasure that's making my heart pound and my stomach clench. It's knowing that what he's saying is true. I'm his.

And he is mine .

And so I take his cock, lull him into complacency, let him think that I'm just going to lie here and let him take me. But at the right moment, the exact right moment, when his grip on my wrists loosens up, I twist hard and free myself, shoving him off and onto his back. He lands with a laugh, his cock pulling out of me, and I'm on him in an instant, straddling his hips.

"This is one time you don't get it all your own way," I tell him breathlessly, and before he can say a damn thing, I reach down for his cock, press it back against my asshole, and sink down.

"God—” he gasps out.

I don't let him take another breath before I start riding him hard, and he's right there with me, hips driving up, thrusting into me, meeting every movement. His hand drops to my dick, stroking hard and fast, his thumb circling the head of my cock, coaxing me closer and closer to bliss.

"Tell me," he begs. "Please, Gabriel. Tell me."

"I'm yours," I promise him. "I'm yours."

His hand works me without ceasing, his thumb rubbing over my slit, sliding around the ridges and veins, then wrapping around me tight and hot. He's relentless—but so am I. I ride him until all that's left is heat and friction and the building, unstoppable momentum toward climax. And then I'm there, exploding over his hand and onto his chest. He's right there with me; I feel the way his body jerks as he empties inside me, the heat of his orgasm flooding into me.

I collapse off of him, resting my head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around me, his breath slowing gradually as we come down from the high. "I came all over you," I say blissfully, and he chuckles as I run a finger through the mess on his chest, painting it over his ink.

I trace the tattoo of a snake curling around a dagger, the words La Vita underneath the tip. I circle the compass over his heart. And then I press my lips to the fierce words emblazoned across his throat.

“You don’t mind it?” he asks.

“I think it’s beautiful.”

Nero is silent for a moment, his hand stroking lazily up and down my arm. “I was so proud the day I got it.”

“Not anymore?”

“I gave my loyalty to someone who never earned it. I was blindly faithful to someone who did not deserve that faith.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “But now I’m free to give myself to a different cause.” His voice drops lower, and he cups my face. “ Per sempre , Gabriel. I’m yours forever now.”

“ Per sempre ,” I tell him, and press my lips to his, sealing our vow with a kiss.

We lie there for a long time, talking idly, until I ask a question that's been nagging at me.

"When did you know? That Charlotte was Roxy's daughter?"

Nero's chest shakes with soft laughter beneath my cheek. "The moment I saw that the flower girl was wearing pink, I suspected. A woman like Roxanne Rochford, with all that ego, on a day that was supposed to be dedicated to her—allowing a little sister to mess up her color scheme? No." His voice softens. "Only motherhood could explain that pink dress."

"That's such total bullshit!" I snort, lifting my head to look at him. "There are a billion reasons why she might have been wearing pink?—"

"And yet I was right," he says smugly, and pulls me in to kiss away my protests.

When he lets me go, I curl into him and think about how Charlotte also curled into him just like this, with total trust. And something becomes clear to me, a flash of insight.

“ Oh ,” I say in surprise.

“What is it?”

I prop myself up on one elbow. “I just figured out your deepest secret, Nero.”

“What do you mean?” I see the look of caution in his eye. This is not a man who is used to being seen . But he’ll have to get used to it.

“You have a soft spot for kids, don’t you? You helped Elise’s niece. You protected Charlotte. Even the community garden—you told me that if you and your friends had had something like that when you were younger?—”

He puts his fingers over my lips. “Hush, tesoro ,” he says, but he’s smiling now. “I once told you I was a philanthropist and you did not believe me then. There’s no reason to believe it now.” I start to speak again and he pulls me close to kiss me into silence. “I keep telling you, Gabriel,” he says after. “I am a very bad man.”

I give up with a grin and snuggle into him. “Oh, yeah. You’re the worst .”