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“If you want to come, Gracie, you’ll make me a promise,” I growl against her folds, flicking the tiny bead hidden inside. “A promise…that means if you break it, there will be grave consequences. I’m not playing games anymore.”
“Luke,” she whines, and I peer up at her over her pussy. I know I’m being a dick using her need for a release against her, but I don’t fucking care. I’ll do what I need to get what I want.
“Promise or I stop.” I breathe against her pussy, eyeing the glistening folds, licking my lips, to relish in the taste she’s left on them.
“I…I promise…” She says a moment later, her voice trembling with need and that’s good enough for me. I get back to working her clit, sucking, teasing, and nipping at the little bud. Fucking her pussy with my fingers, when I feel her pussy start to flutter, I sink deeper inside her, rubbing at her g-spot, making certain she comes hard.
It doesn’t take long, maybe one or two passes of my fingers against that soft tissue before she comes apart, her whole body stiffens as a gush of her sweet honey hits my tongue. Delicious, and mine, so much fucking mine. A guttural moan fills the room, it’s loud, and filled with nothing more than pleasure. A second later, her body turns limp. She falls back against the mattress panting but unmoving besides the rapid rise and fall of her chest. I push up on my knees and look down at her. She looks spent, exhausted as her eyes are already closed.
I get up to get the key, but her eyes remain closed. Only when I come back and start to uncuff her do they open once more.
“What did I promise you?” she asks, as I lift her up, holding her to my chest and carrying her into the bathroom.
“That you won’t try and escape again, that you’ll stay with me, and be mine.” I place her back on her feet and grab on to her hip to steady her while I turn the water on. She remains quiet, as I guide us into the shower. I wash her hair, and her body, and in turn, she washes mine as well. The gesture is very much like Grace, and I hope it’s proof that she’s slowly returning to being herself.
Once finished, I get two towels and wrap her up in one, while I quickly dry off. She pads out into the bedroom, a second later a panicked scream rips from her throat. I move without thought, my eyes finding Grace as I place myself between her and the cause of her scream. When I lift my gaze, I see my boss, well one of them, Xander Rossi standing in the middle of my bedroom, a cold look in his eyes—but that’s a look I’ve grown accustomed to—at seeing him, I relax. It’s not often I’m caught off-guard. Having Grace here has got my damn head in the clouds.
“Xander,” I say, audibly swallowing, “I was going to call you…”
“Well, you didn’t,” Xander interrupts. “You should have called the fucking second you left that job. Why didn’t you call for back-up or at least a clean-up crew afterward? Didn’t you see that there were more guys than anticipated?” His voice cuts off, his mouth turning into a thin line, and I open my mouth to respond, but before I get the first word out, he continues.
“I thought you were dead or hurt when you didn’t call. I figured I would find you here bleeding out or some shit and instead you have a whore over to fuck? What the hell?”
I can’t see Grace’s face but I’m certain if I could it would be bright pink with embarrassment.
“Shut up, she is not a fucking prostitute,” I bark at him, my tone causes Xander’s eyebrows to raise. Cleary he’s as surprised as I am. I’ve never talked to Xander with anything other than respect, but I refuse to let him talk about Grace like that.
She’s my world. The Rossi family might own my soul, but she owns my body, and fucking heart. Shaking my head to rid myself of the thoughts plaguing me, I decide I might as well introduce them. I didn’t want to bring her into this fucked up world but since she’s already here, I can’t hide her.
“Xander, this is Grace,” I explain. Recognition flickers over his features and the blind anger he was feeling moments ago seems to turn into what looks like sympathy. He knows exactly who Grace is and what she means to me, he helped me find her after all.
I grab a pair of shorts from the dresser nearby moving my body out of Xander’s view as I slip them on. When I turn back toward him, I find he’s openly staring at Grace. Her gaze is on the floor, and she looks like she would rather eat a bucket of nails than be stuck in a room alone with him. That’s the normal reaction Xander gets from people. He carries a darkness with him, mainly because before his wife, Ella came into the picture he was nothing but a violent fucker, who killed first and asked questions later.
