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The fight’s gone out of Contessa, at least for now.
She lets me clean her drenched little cunt with my tongue, even when she’s still trembling and over-sensitive. Her taste lingers on my lips as I stroke her thighs, giving her time to come down from that peak.
“Is it always like that?” Her voice is soft and dazed. She reaches down to touch between her legs, as if she might be changed somehow. Fuck, I want to hold those thighs open and show her what an orgasm can really be like when it’s given to her with my cock.
“Sometimes it’s better.”
She looks overwhelmed at the thought.
I need space between us before I lose the last of my control.
I lift Contessa up in my arms. She doesn’t resist or even question it as I carry her to one of the nearby bedrooms. As much as I’d like to pin her beneath me for the entire night, if I get my hands on her for hours straight, neither one of us will get sleep. I’d wear her out before sunrise.
One of the benefits of an old house with old architecture is bedroom doors that lock from the outside. I’ve never made a habit of keeping hostages in luxury accommodations, but for once, the old locks have a purpose.
I give her one of my undershirts to sleep in. It’s too big for her, hanging off one shoulder and ending just a little too high on her thighs. It’s short enough to give me a glimpse of her pussy, showing the thick curves of her ass when she curls up on top of the covers.
I fight myself to walk away.
“You’re leaving?” She asks once I’ve made it to the doorway.
“What, you wanna cuddle?” I ask, already knowing her answer.
I know she’s still dazed when she doesn’t come up with some smart-ass remark, only frowns and pulls on the stubborn ends of the shirt that won’t cover anything no matter how hard she tries. “Get some sleep,” I tell her.
I don’t leave any room for the girl to argue as I shut and lock the door behind me.
I march straight into my bathroom to take the coldest shower of my life.
It doesn’t fucking help.
***
Sunrise comes too soon and cracks the sky open red. I chase a handful of hours of sleep with black coffee. For such a godforsaken hour, the house is busy this morning. The housekeeper moves room to room with stacks of sheets piled higher than her head, refreshing the unused beds.
In the parlor, calls are going out, names on lists are ticked off one by one. During wartime, the family members who have left are summoned back home behind the walls—a shelter from the storm.
All across the city, weapons are moving from warehouses to townhouses, cars are taken to monitored garages. The marching of an unseen army begins, preparing for retaliation.
The major families haven’t fought an old-school war in a few years. Not the way our fathers continually fought them. Lawyers and judges and bent politicians; it’s easier to string up a puppet than it is to sink a body. But Gio and I—we remember the old days that forged us.
The night still itches in my skin. There’s too much to do when all I want is to go upstairs, throw open Contessa’s door and ravage her awake. At the slightest inattention, the girl slips into my thoughts. The feeling of her nails scraping against my scalp. The look on her face when she comes. It’s like an afterimage seared behind my eyelids when I blink, always there on the edge of my awareness.
Even now, I find myself wondering what she’s doing—
Marcel ambushes me from my thoughts. One glance tells me he hasn’t slept, his eyes underscored with dark circles behind his wireframe glasses.
“You look like hell,” I say in greeting.
“You’re causing it,” he says back, and pours his own cup. He’s dressed down in just an undershirt and sweats, hair damp from the shower, a towel slung around his shoulders. “One would think a high-profile kidnapping might be the sort of thing you consult your consigliere about before you go winging it in the middle of the night.”
“I’m consulting now. What’s the temperature?” I ask.
“Too early to say.” I expect as much. “Most of the elders don’t know yet, except Cecilia.
Like usual, she somehow knows everything. She’s requested a meeting first thing this morning to discuss it, but you know they’ll all attend.”
“We’re a little past discussion.”
