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“Isn’t that bad luck or something?” I sassed back.
“I’m the worst thing that could have happened to you, beautiful. And luck had nothing to do with it.”
His hips pulled back and the thick head of his cock rubbed over my center. I was swollen but aching for more. I wriggled my hips, both trying to coax him inside and push him away. I couldn’t make up my mind about whether I wanted to give in to him or if I wanted to protest.
He didn’t give me another moment to decide. He pushed slowly with a hissing curse. “Oh fuck.”
He shuddered behind me, and my muscles tightened as another piercing made its way inside. I sucked in a breath with every rung until I was lightheaded and clinging to his arms for dear life.
The throaty groans from his chest vibrated through me, and I answered with a mewl of my own. He’d worked himself down to his base and rocked his hips at first, then he shifted into full thrusts.
I cried out his name as I reached my orgasm, but he didn’t slow to let me ride it out.
Instead, he let go of my throat and gripped my shoulder, pushing forward until my hands reached for the wall in front of me for support. He pounded furiously, one hand clamped to my hip and the other strumming my overstimulated clit until I was coming undone again.
“You come so easily for me.” He grunted. “Again. Give me another.”
My body writhed and crashed again at his whim. His fingers only stilled for the orgasm to recede before he beckoned another. The crushing waves of pleasure blinded me to any other concern except staying on my feet for him to finish with a thunderous roar.
His hips bucked, rattled, then stilled as he filled me with his come until it dripped down my thighs to the drain below.
He pulled me up into his arms, and I rested my head on his chest to catch my breath and gain the strength to clean myself. We stayed silent under the water. Every nerve in my body vibrated with the aftereffects of that life-changing fucking.
How could anyone else push me to my limits like he had, break down those boundaries, then make me cry for more?
I was fucked.
6
Gaap
Alessio was not subtle about his stakeout. From the apartment window, I watched him pace for over an hour while Pru took a nap. I’d exhausted her, but it kept her from leaving. It would only be a few more hours until Eli agreed to meet me downstairs in The Deacon.
When Pru did wake, I had dinner waiting for her. She’d told me that she enjoyed Italian food, and I’d spent over a year in Sicily before Alessio had figured out a way to track down demons.
After sending one of the lesser demons from the club out to fetch ingredients, I tossed together the pasta and pomodoro sauce. Pru was dressed in one of my old T-shirts—which barely covered her ass—as I was setting our plates on the small dining table.
“Wow. This looks incredible.” She looked over the plates and glasses of wine I’d poured. She picked hers up and put it on the counter. “I’m sorry, but I don’t drink.”
My eyes shot to her, and my hands stopped arranging marinated artichokes and olives on a platter.
“You weren’t drinking last night?”
“No, I stopped drinking a few years ago. Drugs too.” She frowned, but not out of sadness. She looked as though she had disappointed me. “To be honest, I probably wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t stopped when I did.”
It wasn’t that she abstained from alcohol that surprised me. It was that she’d had the courage to approach me without it. That type of confidence often came from a few shots of liquid courage.
I reached over to the wine she had discarded and dumped the contents into the sink. Her wide eyes followed me around the kitchen island to the glass remaining on the table, then as I went back to the sink to empty it as well.
“Sit,” I said, lifting my chin toward the table. “Eat.”
She bit down on her bottom lip to repress a smile and she did as she was told. Before I set down the last plate, she was twisting her fork into the nest of pasta and taking a bite. She hummed with pleasure and closed her eyes as she chewed.
“I can’t believe you made this for me.”
I handed her a bottle of water from the fridge then joined her. “I made you breakfast,” I reminded her and took a mouthful of my own.
“Eggs, toast, and juice. That isn’t perfectly al dente pasta and homemade sauce.”
