Inked: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance (38 page)

He lifted my panties out of the way, and before I could take a breath, his tongue darted in between my pussy lips, quick and rapier-like, stabbing me open and thrilling me. His nimble tongue snaked deep inside, licking my inner folds and setting my nerves on fire with pleasure. I was vulnerable, with his hands pressing my thighs into the table and his weight behind me, but I didn't want to move. I was secure and safe with him, protected.

The aroma of my arousal came to my nose, and I trembled, feeling my orgasm building inside me. I pushed back, burying my ass into his face as he licked and tasted me, desperate for more. “Dan . . . oh Dan . . . fuck me baby. Make me come.”

I couldn't make out his mumbled reply, but he brought his right hand between my legs, gathering some of my moisture before finding the hard nub of my clit and rubbing it in a feather-light stroke. My eyes flew open, and it felt so good I felt like my heart would explode. My fingers clawed at the table as I trembled on the edge of coming, but he kept me frozen there, caught in agonizing ecstasy, until I couldn't take it any longer. “Please . . ."

“As you wish,” I think he said, his tongue leaving my pussy to quickly stroke against my clit, the sensation pushing me over the edge. My feet curled up off the ground and my body convulsed, thick, guttural moans ripping from my chest as I came. I can't say it was the biggest orgasm I'd ever had, because each time Daniel and I made love, each orgasm felt like the biggest, and each one was completely different. This was almost relaxing, forcing me to let go and give in to him and to our love.

I was just starting to come down to earth again when I felt him behind me, and the sound of him opening his zipper came through over the sound of Puccini that was still playing on the stereo. It had nearly filtered out of my consciousness when he was feasting on me, but now, with the head of his cock pressing against me, I was aware of everything, from the sound of the violins and horns to the weave of the tablecloth underneath me, but most of all, the blunt tip of his massive cock at my entrance. “Give yourself to me, Adriana. Show me what you want.”

I lowered my feet back down, happy for the high heels, which let my legs stretch up enough that I could push back, impaling myself on him and filling my heart with happiness. I kept pushing, not caring if I was being stretched or about the slight edge of pain that came from having him so deep inside me again after such a long time without him, just knowing that I needed that connection, that completion.

I whimpered when I felt my ass tickled by the soft tuft of trimmed hair at the base of his cock, and I wept softly in joy. “That . . . that's what I want.”

He took my waist in his hands and pulled back, pausing for a moment, only the head of his cock inside me before thrusting back in, driving me against the table with his force and passion. He had gone without sex for that time too, and he was on the edge of losing control. I had never felt sexier, knowing that it was me who was making this wonderful man overcome with lust.

Daniel pounded into me, my hips pressed into the hundred-year-old oak of the table as Puccini's music sang about love and romance and the mysteries of the world. The impact of each thrust shook the table, and I was swept away on the wave of his desire. Throwing my head back, I cried out, tears of happiness trickling down my face as he grabbed a handful of my hair and kept going, his breath huffing in and out of his chest.

He let go of my waist, and suddenly, a small crack filled the air as he smacked my ass, the heat and sting mixing with the heady explosions of pleasure inside me, driving me insensate and wild. I was overloaded, my body clenching and pulsing with wave after wave of pleasure as Daniel's cock filled me over and over.

Another orgasm built within me, and I threw my all back into him, trying to match him thrust for thrust until we were overwhelmed. I was coming, so hard I couldn't even make a noise, and my breath was locked in my chest as my entire body rushed higher and higher, until I was almost certain that I would die due to being unable to breathe. I didn't care—it felt so great, and I was almost disappointed when air flooded back into my lungs and time returned to the world.

I was drained, my legs shaky and my throat raw from crying out, even though I didn't know I had been doing it. I sagged against the table, sweat making my dress stick to me and my chest heaving in long, shuddering gasps. “Tell me it feels better the more we do this.”

“I don't know,” Daniel asked, “but we have the rest of our lives to find out. Shall we?”

“Let's.”

“
Y
ou're working for whom
?”

Daniel checked his Beretta and shrugged, making sure his suit was ready for work. “Come on, honey. Just because we don't like his music, it's not his fault. That would be like blaming Gaga for Tommy's drunken dancing at our reception. You didn't seem to get mad at her though. In fact, if I remember right, you were pretty buzzed when she went to Carlo's house for dinner with the family.”

I had to admit, going to the family manor to have dinner with a Grammy award winner was a pretty cool experience, especially coupled with the fact that she had raved about my artwork. Now, I was only six months from graduation and I already had five orders for pieces. “Still . . . Phil Collins?”

Daniel laughed and pulled his jacket on. “Sweetheart, it's for one night only. He's flying in town for the environmental awards dinner the governor is holding and flying out immediately afterward. It's an easy five grand. He's just making a speech and then glad-handing.”

I grumbled, but nodded. “Okay, okay. At least he's not singing, and you did get me a seat at the table.”

“Exactly,” Daniel said with a smile. “Just think—how many millions of dollars will be surrounding you, all, I'm sure, eager to meet the artist who is catching the attention of the entertainment set? Why, if you play this right, you might end up meeting Banksy.”

“Ha ha ha,” I replied, wincing afterward. “Ouch, kiddo, hold on there.”

Daniel came over and ran his hand over my now noticeable baby bump, his face in a sort of soft awe. “He's getting big.”

“He's going to be like his daddy, I'm sure of it,” I said, feeling the baby inside my womb shift again before settling down in a comfortable position. “Mom says she hopes he has my hair though. I think she just wants the redhead gene to get passed down another generation.”

“I was thinking maybe this one could be blond, and then our second can be a redhead. A girl, with beautiful green eyes like her mother,” Daniel said softly, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me carefully. We still made love often. The doctor had very clearly said it wouldn't hurt the baby. We just had to be more creative with how we did it.

“You are the most romantic man in the world, you know that?” I replied, kissing his nose, then his lips. Our kiss deepened, until we let go, both of us sighing, and Daniel discreetly reached down to readjust himself in his pants. It was those little things—I don't even know if he did them consciously—that helped me still feel beautiful even as my body changed.

“It's easy when I'm married to the world's most beautiful woman,” he said, his eyes open and honest. That, more than anything else, helped me. In the nearly eight months since opening Neiman Security Consultants, he'd been able to be bodyguard or consultant to some of the world's most famous. He'd guarded pop stars, media personalities, models, politicians and businessmen all over the Pacific Northwest, and still, I could see in his eyes that none of the women he met measured up to me. The one-time player and enforcer for the Bertoli Crime Family had become the most dedicated husband in the world, and I couldn't be happier. “So what are you going to do in between now and when Carlo comes around to take you to the benefit?”

I chuckled and stepped back, straightening his tie. He was in his blue suit, with a black tie and white shirt—very conservative, but very imposing. He knew with that look, his Terminator act was easy to do, and that was half the job. “Carmen's going to come over about three o'clock and help me with a bath and massage. She says she's got a new oil that's guaranteed to not give me stretch marks when our little one gets bigger. I don't know if I believe it, but it can't hurt.”

“How is school going for her, anyway?” Daniel asked, sitting down and putting on his shoes. She'd recently gone back to dance school, and was working part-time as a massage therapist in a rehabilitation clinic Uncle Carlo was invested in. “Well, I hope?”

“She's doing great, she says. And she's happy that Carlo is sponsoring her while she works part-time at the clinic. She didn't think he was being serious.”

“You know him. If he says something, he usually means it,” Daniel said, finishing his left shoe and going to his right. “Especially since the clinic lets his men do rehabilitation and other things for free. No hanky-panky though.”

“Still, I bet the boys love getting a back rub from her,” I said with a laugh. “She's got good hands. Among other things men like.”

Daniel finished his shoes and got up, coming over and kissing me again. “Well, tell her that I think she's doing an amazing job so far and wish her the best.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Unfortunately, gotta go.”

I nodded and kissed his nose again. “Say hello to Phil for me, and that I'm looking forward to tonight. If anything, you've got some interesting stories you can tell him about us and his music.”

Daniel laughed and walked to the door of our house. It wasn't anywhere near the size of the Bertoli estate, but it was our own. He walked out, closing the door behind him. The early fall day was brisk, but he showed no signs as he got into his brand new work Mercedes sedan and started it up. He waved, and I waved back. “I love you. Both of us," I whispered to myself.

Daniel drove off, and I watched him go before walking back to my studio in the back of the house. Carmen was due in an hour or so, and in the meantime, there was painting I wanted to do. A painting full of light. And joy. And most of all, love.

T
hat old man
knew what he was doing.  He fucking set me up.  All those times he talked about his sweetheart, Abby?  All those pictures he showed me?  Not to mention all the stories he’d tell me when I was keeping him company.  I fell for her before I even heard her voice.  

And now I’m fucked.  
She’s
fucked.  What was he thinking trying to set her up with a no-good asshole like me?  She’s too fucking good for me.  He had to know it.

Those gorgeous blue eyes stare back at me with something deeper in them than lust.  I’ve finally won her over.  Every bit of her.  

I’m a fucking prick for doing it.  I know I should let her down easy.  I should walk away and turn my back on her.  Shit, I should’ve never chased her.  

She’s a smart girl; she knows I’m no good for her.  And it’s true.  I’ve got a death threat with her name on it in my pocket, and it’s all because of me.  

What was her father doing pulling this shit?  He knew the truth about me.  I shake my head, hating how I’m blaming him.  He’s dead now.  I’m such a piece of shit, trying to put this all on him and throw the blame on someone else.

I pushed her to cave.  I just needed a taste.  And now that I’ve got her and a good fucking reason to leave this life behind, it’s all crashing down around me.  But she’s here now, and she’s in danger just like I am.  

“Whatever you’re thinking, Liam, you need to stop it,” she says, and her soft, sweet voice is so damn soothing.  Her small hand cups my cheek and I quickly nip her thumb playfully.  She lets out a cute squeal and her eyes quickly heat with desire.  I try to give her a small smile, but I can’t force it.

She bites down on her bottom lip and softly says, “You worry too much.”  She looks up at me through her thick lashes.  I can’t deny her.  I’m addicted to her touch.  

I take her curvy body in my arms, feeling her soft, lush frame melt into me.  “Only when it involves you,” I respond with more honesty than she’ll ever know.

She gives me a sweet smile and nudges her nose against mine with her eyes closed.  She wants me to take her right now.  I take her lips with my own, and press my tongue against the seam of her full lips as she yields to my touch with a kiss.  She parts easily for me, spreading her legs and straddling me.  She gives in so easily now.  

She's learned to trust me.

She’s learned to love me and everything I do to her.  
If only she knew.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she says, and she’s nearly panting now, her voice trembling with need.  “Just take care of me.”

I know what she means by that.  

Fuck, it’s like a bullet to my heart how much she trusts me.  I run my hand down my face and stare into her eyes.  Her forehead is slightly pinched, and her mouth is parted.  Her haze of desire is starting to be replaced with a look of confusion.  She doesn’t know why I’m hesitating.

I have to tell her.  She’s going to fucking hate me.  She’s going to know she was right all along.  

I nip her bottom lip, and my dick twitches as she closes her eyes and moans.  Her hands tangle in my hair and I decide right then--I’m not going to let her go.  Even if she hates me.  I can’t risk it; I can’t risk
her
.

One more night with her. Just one more night between us.  And then I’ll tell her.  She’s going to fucking hate me.  But she’s not leaving.  I can’t let her.

They know she’s gotten to me.  I can’t leave her now, it’s too late.  

She tempted me; now she’s mine.