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Surely, it can't hurt for me to wear some of these finer garments. He did buy them for me, after all. I pull one from the rack and slip it on. It’s a deep emerald green. The silk falls mid-thigh, barely covering my ass with the back dipping down low to the curve of my spine. The straps are spaghetti thin, and I feel dainty and luxurious as I let my hair down to cascade around my shoulders.
My face is freshly washed, exfoliated, and moisturized. My skin glows thanks to all the expensive products Massimo stocked the bathroom with. I’ve never pampered myself as much as I have in my time here with him.
I admire myself in the mirror some more. My lashes are naturally dark, and the lighting of the closet makes my green eyes pop against the emerald-green negligee. I feel pretty, and I can't deny how wonderful the silky fabric feels against my skin, so I reason that there's no harm in wearing it for a little while—until Massimo gets home, that is. I'll change back into one of the big T-shirts before he gets here so he doesn’t see me in the sexy lingerie and think I’m inviting anything. My cheeks burn at even sending him that kind of message, so yeah, I can enjoy this luxury for a little while, but I’ll make sure I change before he gets home.
With that thought in mind, I crawl into the bed and pick up the latest novel I'm reading, getting lost in the pages as I lay propped up against a pile of fluffy pillows encased in fine Egyptian cotton sheets with the highest thread count money can buy.
ChapterSeven
Massimo
My entire bodyis still vibrating with rage at my latest knowledge. My father's man just found out that Connor Doyle has a weakness. All this time of thinking he had no wife or children, nothing or no one to use against him, someone finally found out he had a daughter, one he's had no contact with since the day she was born because he didn't want any of his enemies to find out about her. She doesn't even know he exists. She doesn't know who she really is.
That daughter's name?
Grace Birmingham. Or rather, I guess her true name is Grace Doyle.
It took my father's investigative team so long to find Doyle's weakness because he did an exemplary job of hiding her. Apparently, since I took Grace, he's gotten sloppy in his search for her. My men intercepted one of Doyle's men who was tasked with finding Grace, and they tortured it out of him.
Much to my father's delight—and my despair.
My little Gracie is the daughter of my father's arch-nemesis,myenemy.
My father already has all of our men scouring the city for her. Predictably, he wants her brought to him so he can use her to get at her father because despite the fact that the man has never been in Grace's life as a father figure, he must care for her on some basic primal level since he took such care to keep her protected and in the shadows so no one would know about her, not to mention the fact that he seems to have temporarily lost his mind since I took her.
I stop outside Grace's door and lean my head on it. I inhale a deep breath before I exhale it wearily. Of course, I didn't tell my father that I have the girl he's looking for, his enemy’s daughter—and the love of my life. My obsession. The only woman I'll ever want for the rest of my life.
I don't know what to do. It's a cardinal sin to disobey my father, the head of the mafia, the head of this family, but there's no way in hell I'm giving him my Gracie.
I slip quietly into the room where she's already sleeping. The covers are pulled up over her breasts, and an open book is lying face down on her chest where she must have dropped it as she fell asleep reading. My chest tightens when I see her chestnut hair fanned out around her shoulders. Her puffy pink lips are parted slightly in her slumber. Her dark lashes lay against her porcelain cheeks. She looks like a little porcelain doll. Pure and innocent. She has no idea who her father is or that he just so happens to be the most dangerous, powerful player in the Irish mafia—and my sworn enemy.
No, my sweet little Gracie is innocent in all this. I stand there drinking her in, torn between my duty and my heart.
Grace tosses in her sleep, kicking the covers off her as she does so. It's like my body has been jolted with electricity when I see what she’s wearing. My cock rises to full mast in my pants, and desire licks through me when I take in the emerald-green negligee I bought for her.
It looks more beautiful on her than I ever imagined it would. The silk rides up around her thighs so that I can see the rounded bottom of her ass poking out. She doesn't have any panties on, and her back is bare. The stiffened peaks of her nipples are poking through the front of the fabric. My chest heaves up and down as I struggle to control my desire.
I lose the battle when she arches her hips up slightly and breathes my name in her sleep. “Massimo…”
I’m on the bed in a flash, parting her legs and inhaling her scent deeply before I lave her from gash to clit. I curse. She's soaking wet and so motherfucking sweet. She tastes like strawberries and cream. I groan and suck her in earnest, hollowing my cheeks as I pull her clit into my mouth as I roll my tongue over it.
I hear her gasp as she wakes up, her green eyes glittering down at me. “Massimo!” she breathes my name again as she tilts her hips up in offering. Victory swells my chest, and I roughly pull my cock from my pants and stroke the aching length. Precum is dribbling from the tip, and the fucker is so hard it’s sticking straight up.
“What did I tell you would happen if I heard you moaning my name in your sleep again?” I ask her, my voice slurred with lust. “Told you you’d get more than a spurting cock. This time you’ve got me lapping at that pussy like a hungry dog. And you want it too, don’t you,tesoro? That’s why you wore that flimsy little negligee for me, isn’t it? You wanted to drive me fucking insane with desire for you. You wanted me to lose control, didn’t you?”
I begin to stroke my cock furiously. Grace is writhing beneath me, pulling on my hair and moaning my name as I continue to eat her out until she gushes her sweet cream all over my face.
Her orgasm triggers my own. She's still arching up into me. Her pussy is convulsing and fluttering. I continue stroking myself as I climb up over her and stick just the tip of my cock inside her—just enough that I can feel her falling apart around me as I come. I haven’t popped her little cherry, but I’m inside her, connected to her.
And fuuuck, the feeling of her fluttering pussy kissing my cock detonates something inside me. I splash my cum inside her little hole. I feel it tearing up out of my balls in euphoric rushes. I grunt, part of my brain praying that my seed will find its way inside her to impregnate her. I want to make her mine in every way.
Grace is looking up with me at me with wide eyes as I nut with just the crown of my head inside her. My release triggers another orgasm in her because she arches her hips up into me as she convulses around me harder.
“Fuck!” I growl out as she throws her hips up against me, sliding me deeper inside her until I can feel the barrier of her hymen against the tip of my cock. I still her by grabbing her hips, gritting my teeth at the overwhelming sensation as I continue to pulse new jets inside her.
“Massimo,” she whines my name, “please!”
My cock is already rock hard again at the pleading note in her voice. “You want me to fuck you, tesoro?” Grace makes a little whimpering sound, and her cheeks heat.
