Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
But that’s not my style.
“Did they pass away?” I ask, climbing into bed beside him.
He’s staring at the ceiling. “Go to sleep. And stop looking through my things.” His eyes close. “You’re lucky you didn’t find another gun.”
“What was it like living with your grandmother? Did she always smoke?”
He lets out a long sigh. “Yes, she always smoked.”
“Did you two get along?”
“Not really.”
“Is that why there aren’t any other pictures of her?”
“Probably.”
I lean in closer and pitch my voice low. “If you tell me more about your childhood, I’ll suspend our deal for a full day.”
His eyes open. He looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Tempting.”
“Thank you. That’s a very good compliment.”
But then he closes them again. “I’ll pass.”
“God, you’re a prick.” I flop against my pillow with a groan. “How’d you end up joining the Marino Famiglia? Who’d you know?”
“Too many bad people.”
“Try being more specific.”
He blows air from his nostrils like an annoyed horse. “Luca. A few others. To the surprise of no one, I was a big, troubled young man, and I found violence came easy to me.” His face tightens for a moment. “That’s why everything always fucking aches.”
“I keep forgetting you’re an old man.”
“Which is why I need so much sleep.”
“If that’s a hint, I choose to ignore it. Did your grandmother know you were getting in trouble?”
“She knew.” He looks at me then, his eyes dark and troubled. “She didn’t like it.”
There’s a strange heaviness to the way he says that. I don’t say anything and his eyes close again. I have to remember that we come from different worlds. I grew up in a mansion with a rich grandfather who treated me both like a princess and a punching bag. I was given everything, but I was also molded to be the Westbrook heir.
Stefano didn’t have that privilege. What he’s got now, he earned all by himself. I can’t begin to imagine the struggle he went through as a young man, and the fact that he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it only makes me think it was worse than I’m imagining.
I wish he’d talk. We’re stuck in this relationship together, and we might as well get a feel for each other.
I’m tempted then. I know it’s stupid. He’s not asleep yet, but I can tell he’s trying. I reach out through the narrow space keeping us apart and I brush my fingers down his muscular chest. A thrill runs into my core. Like this is somehow wrong and forbidden. His eyes open again, and this time there’s a spark in his gaze.
“We never said I couldn’t touch you,” I whisper, not really sure what’s coming over me, only that I keep thinking about his fist wrapped around his dick and how many secrets he’s keeping, and god, maybe I can do something dumb and reckless, but something that I want for once. “I’ll stop if you tell me to.”
He says nothing. My fingers graze down lower, over his upper abdomen, down to his chiseled stomach. He’s flexed and tense. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, only that his mouth’s parted slightly. I want to kiss him, but I don’t.
Instead, my hand keeps going down, down to his belly button, down to the waistband of his boxer briefs. Slowly, I slip inside.
My heart’s racing. My mouth is watering. I’m shaking with anticipation. This isn’t going to help me sleep.
But I don’t care. It’s dark and he’s beautiful, and I want to do something stupid.
Something for myself. Not for my family, not for my grandfather.
For me.
My fingers graze over the tip of his dick. He’s half hard already, and as I wrap my hand around his shaft, he quickly stiffens.
“Is this what you do to yourself?” I whisper, chest aching with fear and excitement.
“Just like that.” His voice is laced with sin and lust. I want to drink that sound and drown in it.
“Tell me what you think about.” I tug his boxer briefs down, releasing his massive dick, and kick the sheets away. I want to see him. And god, I’m rewarded with a beautiful cock, veiny and big, achingly hard and twitching with his heart. My fingers barely touch around his girth. I rub my palm around his tip, smearing his precum into my hand, before stroking him again, gliding up and down.
“I picture your sweet skin under my hands,” he whispers as I keep stroking. “You know the sound you make? When I spank you? It’s a whimper, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s the same noise you make as you’re about to come. I picture you moaning under my hands. My fingers deep inside, gliding in and out, teasing your clit, driving you wild. Do you know how much I love seeing you squirm?”