AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The thoughts elicit another thrilling tremor from me. I buck against Gio and shudder in his arms. He holds me tight against him, not once letting me go. His thrusts are greedy and unapologetic. They’re unending, as I can no longer fight the orgasm bubbling up.
I come. I scream. I clench my eyes shut. Drool dribbles down my chin. My body lights up with a thousand electric shocks. Gio spears into me some more, pushing through my spasming walls.
The orgasm is so powerful the water and deck floor beneath my feet feel like they’ll fall away at any second. I reach out and grab the railing. My panties tumble from my lips and fall into the water.
Gio erupts inside me without warning. His hard and muscled body serves as a frame as he stills and rides out his pleasure. We stand immobile for who knows how long, breathing like maniacs, glistening with sweat under the afternoon sun.
He pulls out and tucks himself away. He fixes my dress and then hugs me tightly to him. I’m still disoriented. The floor and water still feel like they’re sinking away. A sudden wave of nausea hits me.
Horror accompanies the sick feeling. I wrench myself free of Gio’s grasp and lean over the railing. “I’m going to be sick!”
“What? Falynn…” He reaches for me, but it’s too late.
I empty the contents of my stomach into the sea, retching, and gagging. My eyes water as I keep my back to him. Gio doesn’t step away. Instead, he gathers my straightened strands of hair and pulls them away from my face. His hand touches my back, and he rubs comforting circles until I have nothing else left to heave.
Embarrassment burns my cheeks. I’ve ruined the hot and sexy moment. Damn sea sickness.
“Are you okay?” he asks. He uses that soft, tender tone reserved only for me. “Let’s get you some water. You can lay down inside.”
Sick to my stomach, I don’t protest. I let him take my hand and lead the way.
We abandon the rest of the yacht trip Gio had planned. Dusk settles over Portofino as we relax in Gio’s villa. It’s a three-story home he visits only a couple of times a year when he needs a place to escape to. Situated on the coastline of the Italian Riviera with a giant balcony, the rose-tinted home is dreamy escapism personified.
Gio lets me rest as he handles what he calls “light business” downstairs in his office. By the time I wake up, our dinner table is set on the balcony. I slip on the satiny robe at the foot of the enormous bed and wander outside. He’s in mid-conversation with Fozzi. I slow up and eavesdrop before either catches sight of me.
“It might be best to cut this short, Boss.”
“We’ve been over this. It can wait,” Gio says, peering at the dark sea. “What’ve you found on the motorcyclist?”
“Dead. He wouldn’t talk. So Louis and Dom roughed him up. By the time they were finished with the body, he was unrecognizable.”
My stomach churns. I press a hand against the flat surface and urge myself not to get sick again. If there’s one aspect of Gio’s line of work I still haven’t adapted to, it’s the casual talk of murder and torture. Regardless of how I try and separate both from Gio, it makes me nauseous whenever I think about his involvement.
Granted, as one of the higher-ups in the family, he’s not usually the guy to execute the deed. He’s the guy giving the command. But he’s killed before. He’s tortured who knows how many men.
You’ve killed too.
It’s a grim fact I’ve avoided thinking about over the last month. It’s been a lot easier burying that night deep in the recesses of my mind, pretending it doesn’t exist. For the first time, it occurs to me, that nobody but Gio and I probably know the truth—Iwas the one who pulled the trigger and shot Tony Lovato.
Gio’s taken responsibility for it. Everyone thinks it was him.
Another uneasy quake upsets my stomach. Maybe it wasn’t Gio the motorcyclist was after. Maybe it was me. Maybe the Lovato familydoesknow.
“How’s she doing?”
“I’m letting her rest as long as she needs.”
Both sense my presence at the same time. Fozzi looks up, and Gio glances at me over his broad shoulder. I’m a better actress than I thought, because I slip straight into pretending I only just walked onto the balcony and haven’t heard a word.
My face softens into a sleepy look, and I pad forward, tightening the robe’s belt around my waist. “I thought I heard voices out here.”
Gio draws me into his arms and kisses me. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine. I’m feeling a little better.”
“Good. Dinner?”
I nod. Gio tells Fozzi to alert the staff that it’s time to bring out our meal. The table is already set in the middle of the balcony with softly glowing candles. More giant bougainvillea bloom along the outskirts of the balcony, a bright and colorful presence in the otherwise dimly lit space.
