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“Yes,” I moaned as the coil inside me spun faster, winding up so tight, there was no way I could hold off much longer. Every thrust ground his barbell against my G-spot. Every time he bottomed out, his pelvis rubbed my clit.
It was like he was made for this, and for a moment, I allowed myself to fancy that he had been. Just for this. Just for me.
“Bene,” he said, but rather than returning to his task of a moment prior, he pinned me with his gaze just as surely as he had my wrists pinned. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t have if my life depended on it.
He thrust faster. So hard, and impossibly deep. It should have had me crying out in pain, but I couldn’t stop the moans of pleasure that tumbled from my lips, one on top of the other. It was wild and primal. And so much more intimate than I’d ever imagined a physical act could be as he held my gaze while hot shards of bliss exploded in the core of me and shot out through every part of me.
“Christ, you’re fucking perfect,” he groaned out, loud enough I could just make out the sound of his voice.
He shifted, ready to withdraw since we’d used no protection, but I clasped him tight with my ankles around his hips.
“I’ve got an implant,” I said because I wanted this; I wanted to feel him coming deep inside me. And maybe just a little, I wanted to be marked by the scent of him.
“Perfetta,” he said, the word nearly distorted by the harsh line of his jaw.
Then I could feel the vibrations of his groans against my chest when he leaned in, suckling my neck as he thrust hard and deep.
His erection swelled inside me and for the first time in my life, a man’s semen filled me, spurt upon spurt until my pussy had milked every drop he had to give.
Chapter Thirty-One
Amadeo
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I seethed as I paced back and forth across the office floor. My father sat behind his desk as usual, Cielo, Vito, and Aurelio in the chairs opposite him. “Nathaniel Sinclair’s the CEO of a British architectural firm. Why is he after that money? How would he even know about it?”
“I’m still waiting to hear back from my contact,” Cielo said as he scrubbed his hands over his five-o-clock shadow. “But from a cursory look into Nathaniel Sinclair, he isn’t just the CEO of Windsor Crest Architecture. He’s recently inherited four other corporations owned by the Sinclair family, previously by Edward Sinclair.”
If I was a dog, my ears would have been standing straight up. “That name sounds familiar,” I said. It rang a bell, but a distant one—not a name with which we had regular contact.
“It should.” Cielo picked up a folder he had tucked in the chair beside him and laid it on the desk.
My father flipped open the file, and I stopped pacing long enough to peruse the pages inside, scanning a brief summary of the family’s holdings. And there were a lot of big numbers in that summary.
That’s when the name clicked.
Edward Sinclair, the British business magnate, but that wasn’t all he was.
Edward Sinclair was a crime boss.
He had no fingers in any pies in our territory, so he’d never really ended up on our radar, but he and his family were on it now.
“Edward Sinclair passed away about a year ago,” Cielo continued, “leaving everything to the youngest of his two sons.”
“Youngest?” I interjected because that seemed to go against most typical family structures. “Do we know why the eldest son was passed over?”
“Not a clue,” Cielo said, shaking his head. “But it’s strange, right?”
“Si,it is,” my father said as he stared at the open file with a furrow between his brows.
Aurelio and Vito had both been uncharacteristically quiet, but they were nodding their heads now.
“I imagine there must have been a significant falling-out between father and son,” Aurelio posited lightly.
My father leaned back and steepled his fingers over his stomach, the furrow still firmly etched across his forehead. “Sinclair is worth billions. If he’s looking for this money, this is personal.”
It hit me like a goddamned brick to the head. It should have hit me sooner.
“Thisis where Heidi’s father got the money; he stole it from the Sinclairs.”
