Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I kiss Damiano the way he’s kissed me, but I don’t have control for long. He grabs hold of my hair and pulls my head back. With my throat exposed to him and my hips moving faster and faster, my lips part as gasps spill from me.
His dark gaze burns over my face and body as I keep riding him, desperate to feel the same pleasure from last night.
My back arches, and I grab hold of his forearm. The next second, I’m completely overpowered as ecstasy seizes my body.
When I feel Damiano jerk beneath me, I pull his hand away from my hair and look down between us. Seeing him shooting his release over his abdomen intensifies my pleasure, and I let out a throaty moan.
Caro Dio. Watching him come is one hell of a turn-on.
I slow my movements, and as the orgasm fades, Damiano swipes a finger through his release.
When he brings his finger to my mouth, my eyes jump to his.
His tone is harsh as he demands, “Open.”
My lips part, and his finger enters my mouth. I suck his cum off, surprised when it tastes salty, manly, and slightly bitter.
His expression grows darker until he looks like the merciless capo that took me away from my parents.
Slowly, he pulls his finger out of my mouth.
I lift my hands to the sides of his jaw where his dark stubble scratches my palms.
Leaning forward, I kiss his mouth softly before asking, “Why do you look angry?
“I hate not having control,” he grumbles.
“You feel you don’t have control right now?” I press another kiss to his mouth, hoping to soothe his temper.
“Not with you naked on my cock.”
Pulling back, I meet his eyes. Slowly his expression softens, and titling his head, he just stares at me for a long while.
“What are you thinking about?” I whisper.
“I have to go to work, but all I want to do is stare at you.”
His words make my mouth curve into a smile, then my stomach rumbles.
“I suppose I have to let you go so you can eat,” he mutters as he lifts me from his lap. “And I have to get back to work.”
He climbs off the bed, and my eyes glue themselves to his hot-as-hell ass when he walks to the bathroom.
I get up and grab the shirt I wore earlier. Putting it on, I glance at the closed bathroom door.
When I hear the water running in the shower, I leave Damiano’s suite and quickly sneak back to my own.
Chapter 24
Damiano
Dressed in black cargo pants, a long-sleeved shirt, a coat, and boots, I tuck my Glock behind my back as I leave my suite.
As I take the stairs down to the first floor, my phone starts to buzz like crazy.
I dig the device out of my pocket, and a dark frown forms on my forehead as I answer, “What?”
“The hotel is on fire!” Emilio shouts, sirens blaring in the background.
Anger explodes in my chest, my fingers tightening around the phone.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m on my way.”
“Carlo!” My voice thunders through the foyer.
He comes running out of my mother’s sitting room. “What?”
“The hotel is on fucking fire,” I relay the message to him as I stalk toward the French doors. When I step out onto the veranda, I mutter, “You’ll have to fly.”
“On it.” He runs ahead of me to start the helicopter.
When I climb inside, I glance at the house and see Gabriella standing on her balcony. She’s only wearing a bathrobe, and it’s freezing outside.
I yank my phone out, but not remembering the number Gabriella used to call me last week, I send a text to Gerardo.
Get Gabriella off the balcony. She’s not allowed out in the cold until she has warmer clothes.
We lift into the air, and I keep my eyes on her. She glances behind her, and I see Gerardo pulling her into the room before shutting the door.
As Carlo turns the aircraft in the direction of Manhattan, I shove my phone back into my pocket.
During the flight, ice pours into my veins, and the soft spot Gabriella carved out in my heart hardens again.
Twenty minutes later, Carlo sets us down on the helipad, and I shove the door open.
“Wait for me,” he says as he switches everything off.
Impatient to get to the hotel, I order, “Hurry the fuck up.”
“It’s a helicopter, not a fucking car,” he mutters.
I clench my jaw, and by the time he joins me, I’m ready to kill someone.
We take the elevator down to the basement and rush to the SUV.
I climb into the passenger seat while Carlo slides behind the steering wheel. When he starts the engine, he says, “Hopefully, there isn’t too much damage to the hotel.”
“Hmm,” I grumble.
The roads are fucking busy, and as we get closer to the area where the hotel is and I see the plumes of dark smoke, rage shudders through me.