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He had me wrapped around those gorgeous, long fingers of his.
Thrusting forward, I sunk into him, into my heaven. I groaned, then immediately got to work. My hips pumped back and forth, back and forth, as I chased an invisible goal. I needed him to fall apart. I needed to give him this moment in the office. Something that would make it ours in every way.
"Coming," he yelled right as his body clamped down tight around mine. I pushed myself to keep going until he finished. Only then did my orgasm crest forward and break like a wave in the ocean. I was tossed into a current of pleasure as I soaked up the feeling of our connection.
"That was perfect, Daddy," he told me a little later.
I never got back to cleaning that day and he never made any more phone calls. But what we did do was christen three more rooms before calling it a night.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
DANTE
Beingthe head of a mafia organization isn't all I thought it would be. Rather than busting skulls together like my father did, I've spent most of my time in the office digging through paperwork to try to make heads or tails of what was left behind. My father left a mess of shit to deal with that has taken nearly two weeks to shuffle through.
I was on the last box when I realized this wasn't something business related. The first clue was the blanket laying at the top of the box. It looked like something a small child would have, not my father. Once I pulled that back, it revealed a neat stack of paperwork.
Setting it on the desk — the freshly cleaned desk — I read through the documents.
Shit. Holy fucking shit.
"DADDY!!!"I screamed at the top of my lungs, not caring who could hear me. I needed him right away, and I didn't think my fingers would work to dial his cell phone.
Ten seconds passed before a heavy breathing Preacher rushed into the room, gun drawn and eyes frantic. "I'm here, baby. What's wrong? Who is it?"
I shook my head as I reached out for him. He knew without question what I needed. His gun lowered as he came around the desk. I stood so he could sit, then I placed myself on his lap as I stared at the papers with a sense of despair.
Could it be true? Was this really happening?
"I need your words, baby. I understand being overwhelmed, but you damn near gave me a heart attack just now." His hand swept down my neck affectionately as his other held my waist in place. "Can you tell me what had you shouting for me?"
"Family," I said slowly, my tongue suddenly thick with emotion. "I have a family."
My hands reached for the paperwork on the desk. I lifted them one by one so Daddy could see them.
Three copes of birth certificates. A paternity test. Photos and transcripts with school information. It was like he was watching them from afar instead of bringing them close. I just didn't know why.
"Oh, baby. I'm ... well, I don't know what I am. Are you sad? Are you curious? It wouldn't take me much to find them with all this information. You know this was what I did for a living. I can help you however you wish."
His voice calmed the anxiety that had been pulsing through me. I wanted what he said. I wanted to find them to see if they were ok. If I had family... If there were people out there who I could get to know who were like me in some way, well then, I had to reach out. There wasn't another option in my mind.
"Will you find them for me, Daddy? I think I want to know them," I said after giving it a moment.
He kissed my neck as he reached around me to look at the papers. "There's more than enough, like I said. I could have their address pretty quickly. Phone numbers not long after. Do you want me to contact them for you, or would you like to do it?"
"You." The answer came with ease. "But I want to be there too. I want to hear them."
"Done deal. I'll take these to start searching. Why don't you take a break to see if Emmy has any sweets in the kitchen?" Emmy was our new chef, a woman just a few years older than us who was more than happy to make all the delicious requests we had. I'd hired her when the last chef was hurt during the change in power. He'd pulled a gun out of his apron and shot two of our men before he could be stopped.
I nodded at Daddy's suggestion before taking off down the long hall of our home to find something to finish calming my nerves. So many thoughts ran through my head at the news I just found. Would they want to meet me? Did they even know I existed? Why hadn't my father kept a hold on them like he did with me? What made them different?
It wasn't like I could simply pull my father from his grave to ask those types of questions. There was really only one true way to get the answer.
I'd have to contact the siblings I had no clue existed before today.
At the kitchen, I paused to watch Emmy stirring a big pot of something that smelled amazing. I took a deep breath, letting the aroma wash over me.
"Come on in, sugar foot. I've got a pot of food right here that will heal you right on up," Emmy drawled, her Southern accent thick.
