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TWENTY-SEVEN
GIANCARLO
Watching Rebecca andBastien made my cock turn to steel and hurt my heart. The fundraiser matrons had tried to distract other guests from the X-rated show on one of my balconies. They knew better than to approach a Domenico and a Daria getting it on wherever the hell they wanted.
My feet ached to sweep in. Pull her away from Bastien and scream, what the hell are you doing? But this shaming game was my plan. Only, it sounded better than actually watching it. This was the first night. Anthony got her next on Saturday.
Bastien stalked off, pushing through the closest ballroom door to the lobby. I didn’t bother to see where he went. My instincts to help Rebecca had me breaking through the crowd to get her.
She had already stood, wiping her lips. A burning desire to kiss her mouth full of Bastien’s cum hit me hard and strong.
Her eyes caught mine, and she held her head high. Her cheeks flushing scarlet told me how she really felt at the moment. “Get out of my way, Giancarlo.”
“No. Come with me. It’s not a request.”
“We’re not in your club. I don’t follow your orders here.” She looked up at me, dark raven strands of shiny hair falling in her face. “This was your plan. Stand back and let all of Manhattan see Seb’s cum dripping from my mouth.”
I swallowed. “Right, this is a game. Let’s keep playing.”
I brought my mouth to hers, the taste exploding against my lips. The velvety feel I’d denied myself all those times I took her in my club hit me in the chest and it was hard to breathe. I drank her in, losing myself briefly. The feel and taste of her mouth destroyed me. Every sweep of my tongue into her mouth fired my possession, and I wasn’t sure what I would do to keep her all to myself.
She moaned into the kiss, her body melting against mine, trembling. The passion shocked the hell out of me, the way her tongue took control. When I grunted and pushed her further into the room, she snapped.
“Stop,” she whined, but didn’t push me away. Didn’t use my safeword.
“No.” I broke the kiss and roughly flicked my thumb across her lower lip. “You’re mine now.” Without waiting for a response, I dragged her to one of my private lounges.
Inside, she held her arms and then looked at me. Glancing around, she said, “Are we alone?”
“Yes.” I undid my suit jacket.
Her throat worked beautifully when she said, “You kissed me.”
“You kissed me back.” I thumbed my lips. “Lift your skirt. I don’t care if you’re wet for another man.”
She smiled, then glanced around again. “Don’t you want to abuse me in front of people? Isn’t that part of the game?”
“Abuse?”
“You know what I mean.”
I closed the distance between us in two swift strides. Up close, her eyes looked redder, and her jaw set tight. She needed relief. “You can fight me or let me make you come.”
Her lips parted, and I had my answer. My heart pounded in my ears, setting me back because sex with Rebecca could get damn addictive. Part of me wanted her to leave, another part would be destroyed if she did.
“Make me come, please.”
Guess which part just won?
Only, with my heart exposed, I couldn’t kiss her again. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I could slide my cock inside her. Much like the first night when I feared it would unglue me.
“Turn around and put your hands on that.” I pointed to the glistening granite countertop under a wide mirror.
“Door open or closed, Gian?” Her silent plea for help wrecked me.
“It stays closed.” I had the answer. Claim her. Grab her for myself. Resurrect my mother’s family connections and take this city back.
This wasn’t just about who would rule, though. My father and his partners—under Giovanni’s pressure, no doubt—had buried themselves in something that would bring us all down. But I had to make sure Rebecca never handed that evidence over. My cock would keep her sane. I needed her sated.
“One moment. Stand up straight, but keep facing the mirror.”
She did and gasped when I gathered her silky hair back into the sexy loose bun she’d shown up in. “See the pin?” she whispered.
“Yes.” I wasn’t a hair expert, but I watched my mother enough to know how to pin thick Italian hair back into place. After I did, our eyes caught in the mirror. “Your majesty.”
Her gaze went hazy with arousal, and she lowered her chest to the counter, her hands spread out. “I need this.”
“I have what you need.” I lifted her skirt.
The smoothness of her inner thighs drove me mad with desire. I wanted so much to feel that satin pussy wrapped around my cock again. I brushed her clit, pulling a high-pitched moan from her. “You missed me, huh?”
“So much.” She rocked her hips while I rubbed her hard clit. Her breathing, her voice, her smell, all felt like a stroke against my cock.
The more I caressed her, the more her hips tilted, settling that clit right between my fingers.
“Lift your leg.” I pushed through a mountain of damn tulle bearing her ass to me, her tiny strap of a thong angled so perfectly into the cleft of her ass. “I miss fucking you here.” I thumbed her ring over the lace. Looking at the seductive lines of her tight hole now would do me in. “But this is for you.”
“Please,” she cried, her hands balled into tight fists.
Hold on, honey.
I roughly pulled the thong to the side and kept stroking her clit. My fingers teased the wet nub. God, the way she responded to me. Through the mirror, her expression had gone from taut to languid. The power I had over her was intoxicating.
Becca yelped. “Oh, God.” She clenched around my fingers, rocking to the rhythm of my hand. I could feel how starved she was. Fucking Bastien... He could have at least made her come.
What the hell was wrong with him?
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“Not stopping,” I said, and kissed the back of her shoulder. “Take what you need.”
“I need...” She gulped air. “I need this.”
I need you, I wanted to hear her say.
With Giovanni gone, Rebecca showed nothing but defiance. How headstrong she could be. Now she was a puddle getting ready to cream for me.
Her body quivered as her breaths drew shorter. I slowed down to extend the pleasure. My cock ached beyond anything I’d ever felt. Holding back was my superpower in my suite at the club. Making her come again and again.
My body seized, thinking how Rebecca made me feel in my bed there. God, I missed her. I was falling, wasn’t I?
A mist of sweat broke out across her bare shoulders, the thin straps of her dress showing off the gentle-sweeping curves of toned arms. And nothing else. But I knew what was underneath.
A vision hit me. Her as my queen. Me as her king. Us as newlyweds, dashing off to lounges to fuck our brains out. Filling her with my seed to make little Byrne babies. Enough to secure the Bianco dynasty again. The taste of power soared through me. Baring my teeth, I sunk an incisor into the back of her neck.
Rebecca howled, her neck straining as she came in my hand. Clit pulsing. Slit drenching my fingers. As she nearly collapsed, I held her by the waist, pushing her dress back down. My respect for her soaring.
I spun her around, needing her lips. Come upstairs with me, I have a better plan, sat on my tongue as she brushed the front of my pants.
“Let me,” she said, grinning happily, her cheeks glowing.
“Rebecca?” my mother called out from outside the lounge.
Nothing killed a hard-on more than the sound of Mom’s voice. Dropping my head into the crook of Becca’s shoulder, I groaned, “I should let you go. I can’t believe Sebastien just left you here.”
She stiffened at my mentioning Bastien. “Right.”
“Rebecca?” Mom called out again, knocking on the door.
Pushing hands through my shaggy hair, I stared at myself before opening the lounge door.
“Giancarlo?” Mom sounded surprised, but I doubted it.
“Rebecca needed...” Shit, I wasn’t sure how to answer.
“Uh-huh.” Her eyes sailed over my shoulder. “Rebecca, darling. Are you all right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Byrne.” Becca cleared her throat. “I should get going.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Mom said, waving her forward. “Let’s chat.”
This should be good.
