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She may be pissed about my history with Maya, even with the very limited information she has, but Maya never had the ability to enrage me as much. Maya never would’ve stood in a room and watch me cut on a man. Maya never would’ve picked up a knife and used it herself. She sure as fuck wouldn’t have stood there while I slit his throat.
Maya wasn’t a part of the world I was born into until she was at Marcello and Alessio’s mercy. She’d only heard hints of our darkness. When she was brave enough to ask, I shut those questions down, thinking her asking around would be what got her into trouble.
Alani and Maya don’t compare. They’re not only different on the outside. Inside, Alani has a darkness in her, something that was formed long before I came along because she was pretty sheltered until she learned about her sister. Some things can’t be experienced. Some things have to come naturally to a person.
It feels like a betrayal, like I’m tainting Maya’s memory with my attraction and addiction to Alani. I’ve fought it for nearly a year, mostly feeding my addiction by watching her from the shadows. I’ve gotten better in recent months, keeping my promise of not making physical contact. It was going as best as it could until that dead motherfucker in the other room thought he could touch what’s mine.
Mine.
Four letters and one syllable that encompasses so much. It doesn’t seem like a good enough word. It doesn’t speak of the pain and suffering, or the lengths I’m willing to go to for her.
Wanting anything has always been a mistake. It means there’s something that can control you.
A person makes that ten times worse. It’s a weakness I can’t afford.
She’s a betrayal to the vow I made when I shut it all down the day Maya was murdered right in front of me.
Alani whimpers when I grip her hair tighter, but it doesn’t even cross my mind to ease up. If anything, it makes me want to twist my fist more.
She releases a harsh breath when an equally rough hand rips the towel from her body. I take a step back, keeping my hand locked in her hair just so I can look down at her perfect heart-shaped ass. God, that thing haunts my fucking dreams.
My breaths are ragged when I pull her back closer to me.
“You’ll bend over the fucking bed,” I growl in her ear, waiting until she nods her head before releasing her. “Don’t fucking move.”
The warning is in my voice, but I’m certain I didn’t even have to say it because this is exactly what she wanted.
I step back, walking toward the duffel bag in the closet, and grab a condom out.
I wasn’t joking in the shower. Fucking her in my truck without protection was a moment of insanity. I spent many hours watching her the last several months for signs of pregnancy, fully prepared to lock her away if she was pregnant. There is no scenario in this world that would allow her freedom, even for a second, if she was carrying my baby.
I clench my eyes closed against the memories from six years ago trying to gain access, and when I open them and look back to Alani, it’s easier than it has been before.
I rip the condom wrapper open, rolling it down my cock as I make my way back to her.
“Spread your legs.”
She turns her head, her face pressed into the mattress, and I love how she has to stand on the tips of her toes because of the height of the bed. It means when I fuck into her, I’ll probably be lifting her clear off the floor. My cock jerks with anticipation.
“Spread further.”
“I can’t.”
“Use your fucking hands, Alani.”
I watch as her cheeks heat, embarrassment in what I’m asking putting that beautiful color there, and it’s the biggest fucking mistake. In the blink of an eye, it becomes my most favorite fucking thing, a new addiction I know I’ll have to recreate over and over.
This poor fucking girl. She doesn’t have a clue what she’s just done.
She clamps her teeth on her bottom lip as she reaches back, one hand on either ass cheek before tugging. Sweet fucking Christ.
She is fucking exquisite—perfectly pink, slick with her own arousal.
I squeeze my cock right behind the head in an effort to stave off my own desire.
“Who was the last one in this pussy?” I growl.
She swallows before responding. “You.”
“Are you lying to me?” I reach out, swiping my thumb through the wetness glistening on her cunt and trace it up higher, circling the pucker of her asshole.
Her moan is the sweetest fucking song, and my heart kicks harder in my chest.
Maybe there’s something about her pleasure that’s just as desirable as her pain.
