Page 14 of The Italian Reckoning (A New York Criminal Empire #3)

ROCKY

“ Y ’know what?” Sarah pulls back from lightly kissing the edge of my helmet. “Fuck it. I don’t care who you are.”

Does she mean it? Her eyes flash with annoyance, but there’s a sweet smile creeping across her lips and when she kisses my helmet again, I try to agree with her. It doesn’t matter who I am. Whatever’s got her so riled up must be important, but as long as she’s with me, no one else can harm her.

I don’t have much of a plan yet on how to keep her safe, but I will do everything I can to keep my father’s men away from her.

Even if it means taking a bullet or two for her.

Telling my father that I saved her life to repay a debt is only partly true because that debt doesn’t feel paid off.

It’s not an obligation that brings me back to her, though.

It’s her touch. I crave the silence that took over my mind during our kiss a few nights ago, and that kind of peace isn’t something I can ever repay her for.

So I will do what I can to keep her alive.

Pulling back, I climb to my feet, but Sarah is right there with me and she continues to press lingering kisses against my helmet.

Against my better judgment, I lean into it and follow her touch as she fists her hand into my leather jacket and pulls me down the nearby alleyway shrouded in dull light and closed off from the world.

Hardly the most romantic of places, but all sane thought leaves me when she unzips my jacket and presses both her soft hands against my body. Heat from her palms sears through the thin material of my shirt and my pulse quickens as she grips the fabric and tugs me close against her.

I should say something. If she wants this helmet off, then she’s going to learn exactly who I am, and she would never agree to this if she knew.

Is it selfish of me that I don’t want to tell her? I don’t want to lose whatever this is because the moment she reaches under my T-shirt and caresses my abs, my mind goes quiet.

It’s like diving into the ocean and losing all sense of the world around you. I want to drown in her for the peace she brings me, even though deep down, I know she hates the real me. The conflicting thoughts don’t last long, though, because Sarah suddenly steps back and shrugs off her jacket.

“I’m tired of this bullshit life,” she mutters, tossing it over the lid of the nearby dumpster. “Tired of people not listening to me, or telling me that I need to take some time off, or that I’m seeing ghosts that aren’t there. I’m tired of shitty days and people who keep secrets, you included.”

I step toward her, but she uses both hands to shove me back against the brick wall.

“Don’t take your helmet off, I don’t care.” She glances down me with a coy smirk. “I don’t need your face.”

Before I get a chance to reply, Sarah drops to her knees right in front of me and rips open her white shirt, exposing her gorgeous breasts held in place by a peach lace bra with a little pink bow nestled in her cleavage.

Her hands are on my belt before I can even register what she’s doing and a pulse of pure want pulls through me like the warm stretch of a muscle.

I’m hers.

Whatever she wants, whatever she needs, I’ll give it to her because each time she touches my hot skin, I find a blissful peace that I’ve been denied since I was a teen.

Incoherent words bubble in the back of my throat in my last attempt to say something—anything, really—that might alter what’s about to happen, but they don’t make it past my lips. I don’t want her to stop. If she wants this from me, then I want to give it to her.

I want to touch her. I want to caress her face and wind the long strands of her blonde hair around my fist so I can hold her in place while I worship her throat.

But she’s in control. She removes her glasses and sets them aside, then grabs my belt with both hands and slides the leather out of the clasp with impressive speed. I make another noise, and she looks up at me with a sharp warning in her eyes.

“No talking,” she snaps. “I’m tired of talking. I just want to feel something.”

My heart pounds like a drum, causing my pulse to roar loudly in my ears.

Then her warm palm closes around my cock, dragging my length from the confines of my cotton boxers, and the world vanishes.

Nothing exists but Sarah and her firm grip on my cock, bringing me to full mast in just a few strokes.

She gets me so hard so quickly that it’s almost embarrassing, but she doesn’t appear to care.

No sooner is my cock flush in her palm than her lips are kissing my crown and a tight curl of pleasure warms my lower gut.

My thighs tremble, sweat prickles along my hairline, and my balls ache with each press of her soft, plush lips against my cock.

Her hand works back and forth along my shaft, drawing pull after pull of pleasure down into my gut.

Closing my eyes feels like an insult, so I stare down at her and focus on every flutter of her eyelashes, every soft gasp for air when she leans up, and every shade of crimson that dusts her cheeks as she takes me into her overwhelmingly hot mouth and sucks .

I instinctively reach for her and slide one hand into her hair, satisfying my urge to hold on to something. She makes a noise that vibrates through my dick, and my knees very nearly buckle under the rapid onslaught of pleasure.

Then she takes my cock deeper into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks with each forceful suck.

It’s like she’s trying to drain me dry just with the power of my mouth, and it takes all my restraint not to thrust forward and bury myself in the welcoming heat of her throat.

She keeps one hand around the inches of my cock that she doesn’t put in her mouth, and her other braces against my hip to keep me back against the wall.

Shit. Fuck .

I’m gonna come, and then this will be over.

I can’t stand it. Every piece of clothing suddenly feels too heavy and close against my skin.

I want to tear them all off and then throw Sarah down to fuck her like she deserves to be fucked, but she deserves better than this alleyway.

Not that she seems to agree with how powerfully she’s sucking on my cock.

Her shirt slides from her shoulders with her movements and she quickly removes it, seemingly not caring about the risk of someone finding us.

I want to hide her from the world and keep her as if she’s mine and only mine.

“Wait—” A single word, and she pulls off my cock with a pop , leaving a thin string of saliva connecting my crown with her lower lip. She looks up at me with dark eyes glassy with lust and then slowly licks her lower lip.

“Is it not good?” she asks breathlessly.

My heart aches. How can she think she doesn’t feel good?

Grabbing her by the shoulders, I guide her up from the ground and swap our places.

My fingers curl around the waistband of her slacks and tug them down.

Sarah catches on a second later and as soon as her slacks are on the ground with her shoes, she’s in my arms with her legs wrapped around my waist and my cock driving against the soft cotton of her panties.

“Fuck,” she gasps, tipping her head back against the brick wall.

Her throat is long and bare, teasing me with all the skin I could kiss and mark with my teeth if this damn helmet weren’t in the way.

I make do by bumping my helmet lightly against her chin.

She tips her head back down and presses her lips to my visor as I pull her panties aside with one hand and thrust into the tight, soaked heat of her pussy.

Sarah arches upward against the wall and slaps one hand over her mouth to muffle the strained cry of pleasure that erupts from her throat.

She’s so wet that pride swells in my chest—I’ve never been with a girl who got turned on from sucking my cock before.

Another thrust and another two inches slide into her, drawing a long moan from the depths of my throat.

With one arm wrapped around my neck and her other hand over her mouth, Sarah clings on for dear life as I fuck her.

My hips pound upward hard and fast, driving my cock into her silken heat.

I want to make her feel as good as I feel.

I want to drive her to the heights she’s taken me in just a few touches, and every ounce of irritated energy is poured into how hard I fuck her.

Each thrust punches noises and sounds past her fingers, each roll of my hips makes her whine, and soon, she’s as flushed and as sweaty as I am.

She claws at my chest and shoves my shirt off my shoulders, then grips so tightly that pain flashes hot down my back.

“Fucking hell!” Sarah whines, shoving her fingers deep into her mouth in an attempt to silence herself further.

I almost come on the spot from the sight of it, and it kills me that I can’t kiss her around those fingers.

I fuck her harder, deeper. I keep my arms around her to protect her from the brick as much as I can, and when she reaches orgasm around my cock, I continue to fuck her through it so that every single delicious second of pleasure is savored.

I come not long after with her pussy clenching and rippling around my cock, massaging every last drop of cum from my aching balls.

My mind is silent. My body is happy, singing with the twitches and tingles of pleasure that linger as the post-orgasm haze settles in.

“Holy… shit.” Sarah pants, fogging up my visor when she finally removes her fingers from her mouth.

I want to speak, but something tells me I would just ruin the moment so instead, I ease her down to the ground and lightly massage her hip while she regains her balance. As she leans down to pick up her pants from the ground, something catches my eye.

Across her back and shoulders, amplified by their paleness compared to the flushed pink of her skin, are an array of scars. Some are small and thin, but others are warped and twisted. She straightens up and turns to face me, pulling on her pants and handing me my discarded belt.

“That was…”

Amazing? Hot? Fantastic? Mind-blowing?

“So fucking stupid,” Sarah murmurs.

Oh .

“I don’t even know you. I can’t believe I did that. What the hell came over me?” She pulls her shirt back over her shoulders and as it closes around her body, I spot a few more of those scars along her abdomen.

I’m reaching for her before I can stop myself, but as soon as I touch one of the scars with my fingertips, Sarah recoils away from me as if she’s been struck. She buttons up her shirt quickly and snatches her glasses and coat from the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she says breathlessly. “This was fun, but it shouldn’t have happened. I was just... I’m sorry.”

I can’t stop her when she hurries away toward the mouth of the alley ruffling her hair to try and make herself look more presentable. Maybe I should try harder, but she leaves me with my pants around my ankles, pleasure burning in my veins, and a single question haunting my mind.

What the hell happened to her?