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I closed my eyes as I leaned back in bed, my mind replaying that moment.
How she loomed over me.
How her hazel eyes grew deep with protective anger.
How her words stung me to my core. I couldn’t show weakness in front of my bodyguards. I had to keep up appearances as best as I could, but I’d wanted to reach out to her and spin her around, take her into my arms, plant my lips upon hers, and show her I was still the man she remembered.
The man she had dreamed about.
The man who craved to the core of my being to live free of darkness and gloom.
I didn’t want the position. When my father died I had to step up. I was weeks away from making my move to go find Julia. For years, I’d held her memory in my mind. For months, I’d wondered why she left me. Why she skipped town without a word and never came back. And it wasn’t until I used my father’s resources to track her down that I figured out why.
Her father sent her away because people knew about us, but he kept her away because she had gotten pregnant.
Out of duty, I took the position. But I swore to my family things would be different, that I would make things different. The streets of New York had seen enough death and anger and destruction. What everyone needed was for our two families to work together. I was determined to creep us out of the grasp of the federal authorities and become a legitimate operation, a family that protected the streets we loved instead of keeping it in this vice grip of fear and blood.
That was my dream.
An era of peace.
Julia had looked spectacular. Her hazel eyes, speckled with flakes of gray and yellow, were as beautiful as I remembered. Her long brown hair with those luscious red streaks made her tan skin glow. Soft. Supple, with curves that had blossomed as she had become a woman and mother. The dress she wore clung to her breasts and nipped in at her waist before flaring over a pair of hips that had my cock pressing against my pants all through dinner.
But her strength.
Where the hell had that come from?
She used to be so mild; even-tempered and quiet. Her voice had been a soft whisper in the wind compared to the forcefulness she used at dinner. I remembered her as a fragile dove, but what I got was a winged eagle, with talons bared, ready to fling whatever got in her way into the air to die a lonely, heartbroken death.
She looked so fucking good.
Our time together as teenagers had been fleeting; a few months at the most before we were found out. And my favorite memories of us were when we snuck out in the middle of the night. We’d joyride around the city and find mischief to get ourselves into.
Late night walks in the park and horror movies that made her jump into my lap.
Fuck. My cock was getting hard thinking about it.
I stepped out of my bed. Removing my clothes, I crossed my bedroom and made my way to my shower. Not even bothering with the hot water, I cranked the cold all the way and stepped underneath the massive rainwater spray. The cold water fell onto my skin like needles, but I didn’t care to warm it up. I needed the cold and the sobering effect it provided.
Instinctively, my hand drifted down to my massive erection. I closed my eyes and conjured her memory.
Her soft skin grinding against mine in the backseat of my fucking car.
It was my favorite moment with her. Out of all the times we’d snuck out, and all the times I’d buried myself deep into her wet pussy, that was my favorite.
Because it was the first time she told me she loved me.
And by my count, it was the night we had conceived Matte
o.
Her hair fluttered around her shoulders as I slammed into her. She jumped, her tits bouncing in my face as her pussy soaked my cock with its juices. I wrapped my hand tighter around myself. Stroking my thick dick and bucking my hips into my hand.
Even the memory of her could drive me wild.
A drop of precum breached the tip and I coated my skin with it. Fuck, I missed Julia’s mouth. I’d taught her how to take me. How to slide me all the way back and time her breaths with my thrusts. I’d loved fisting my hand into her hair and fucking her throat. Commanding her movements and watching those wide hazel eyes look up at me with tears in them. She would cling to my thighs, digging her nails into the backs of them, leaving marks.
Marks I’d sit on the next day and grin at.
