Secret Baby For The Italian Mafia Don

Part 25

NICO POV:

Death and I have been in a race for a long time now, the bastard always
nipping right at my heels. But this time, I tripped, and he damn near got me.
If it weren't for Tessa, I'd already be rotting.
I have to play it careful now. That's what I tell myself, but I've told myself
that before, and it never really makes a difference. I don't change. Three
nights past the day I should have died, and I'm already spinning out. Ava's
messages eat away at my skull, chewing toward the brain matter like rabies,
making me crazy and violent:
I'm dangerous for you, Nico.
We shouldn't see each other anymore. We shouldn't have seen
each other to begin with.
This is me finally telling you what I should have all along: no.
I tried to argue, tried to call, but the messages wouldn't send and the call
bounced. She blocked my number. My tracking app no longer finds a
connection, searching and searching, never getting a return ping. And I still
check it, like muscle memory, just needing to know where she is, how to get
ahold of her, but I can't. She wiped her phone. A clean slate.
I can't even kick down her door anymore. She's living her life with her new
husband.
The thought makes me wild.
Every night, I lie awake and wonder if he's fucking her. If she's lying under
him, staring up at the ceiling, trying to feel something for him. I dream up
half-cocked plans of taking her at gunpoint in the middle of the night, stealing
away on some redeye flight with all the cash we can carry, and running
somewhere out of the country. Anywhere.
But I know she'd miss her brother and her family, and I try not to do anything
stupid. Friday night, I go to the fighting ring, and I can't even pay attention to
the fight. All night, I'm looking for her, thinking maybe she'll sneak out and
come see me, crashing into my arms.
She doesn't show.
I'm going crazy. She's in my every other thought. I need her, I need her. I
spent the night in the company of addicts and alcoholics, and I was the worst
of all of them. Everything they wanted was right there for the taking, but for
me, there was no fix.
My head boils. It's almost 2 A.M. when I roll up to the house, park my car in
the garage, and prowl through the house just like I used to. I have no idea
what's been going on with her, what her life has been like now that Thaddeus
is a permanent fixture in it. I ease up against her door, press my ear to the
wood, and listen.
There's nothing beyond it, and there's still no lock between us. She never
replaced it.
I nudge open her bedroom door. The hinges swing silently.
I stand in the dark and wait for my eyes to adjust to the familiar room. Ava
lies on her back, her gorgeous face tilted to the side and illuminated by a
stripe of moonlight as she sleeps. On the opposite side, I see another shape:
Thaddeus, facing the opposite way. I don't know how he can put his back to a
woman like that. How he doesn't wrap around her and hold her against him,
making sure she never gets away. That's how I always held her, how I want to
hold her right now.
My heart hammers furiously as I watch her, the subtle swell of the covers
rising with her every breath. Thaddeus doesn't move, either. His breathing is
heavy with sleep, utterly oblivious. Feeling bold and wild, I inch slowly into
the room, letting the floorboards adjust to my weight. I kneel next to the bed,
easing the sheets down her body. She doesn't stir.
Her silky, thin nightgown hugs her hips, and slowly, so slowly, I part her legs.
The mattress dips as I ease between her thighs. I drag the very tip of my
tongue against her clit, the slightest pressure. Almost nothing. I move by
feeling alone, the soft touch of my tongue like fingertips reading Braille,
surface level and quick, over and over.
Ava starts to stir. Her thighs tighten, her breathing changing as she gets
caught somewhere between here and hot dreams. I swipe my tongue faster
now, more daring, her hips twitching involuntarily up. It wakes her up, but
I'm ready for her, and I hold her down and clamp a hand over her open
mouth, muffling the sound of her shock.
The tension cracks in the moment, silent and burning. I gaze up at her, the
shape of her shadow and the strands of her hair caught in ghostly light. I feel
her stare more than I see it, the rigid uncertainty in every muscle under my
hands. I feel the shock drain from her, slowly. When I'm sure she won't
scream, I pull my hand off her mouth and kiss the inside of her thigh—a
wordless apology for scaring her—and punctate the kiss with a sharp little
bite.
Her fingers slide into my hair as I bury my face between her legs again.
Her head falls back, and she holds her silence and doesn't give me away.
The clouds slip over the moon and leave us as just two silent shadows moving
in the dark. She should count herself lucky that I'm being quiet, that I'm not
storming back in here to take her as mine by force, damn anyone who gets in
my way.
She hardly dares to breathe. The slightest sound might betray me. I run my
hands up and down her thighs, my mouth slowly working on her clit, teasing
it just the way she likes. I drag her legs over my shoulders, pinning her back
properly.
Ava's tense, but those long, smooth legs still wrap around me from behind,
welcoming me back to her. Her fingers tighten against my shoulder and she
holds herself desperately still while I kiss a slow, sweet line up her pussy.
I taste her like a drug, the wild, hungry part of my brain finally silent and
satiated as I have my mouth on her. I may not be able to speak to her, but I
can tell her everything I need her to hear, just like this.
I miss you. I need you.
I will never, ever leave you alone, no matter how much you beg.
And, most important of all, with my tongue finally dancing wild against her
clit:
You still belong to me.
I slide my hand up under her shirt and grope her tits, fondling her roughly in
my grasp.
Her muscles ripple with tension, and I feel each motion, the way her thighs
lock and legs twist as I frantically glide my tongue around her clit again and
again. The softest, featherlight sensation as I lavish attention on her. By how
she reacts, I'm sure he isn't giving her any.
She's neglected and needy, and she arches her hips up slightly, her fingers
curled around the edge of the mattress while her other hand clings to me. She
can't direct me with her voice, can't so much as utter a sound, so I feel my
way along by instinct and the tension of her muscles and the soft hitch of her
breath. I know she likes it in circles, and I torment her with it for a long,
relentless minute until she's shaking.
She chokes back a strangled sound. We freeze.
Thaddeus shifts on the bed, some half-grumble on his lips.
The clouds peel back traitorously, spilling a silver light across the floor, the
bed, inching its way over us. I hear the pounding of my heart in my ears, but I
mostly feel it in my cock.
"What?" Thaddeus asks, annoyed and still half-asleep.
"Nothing." Ava almost chokes on the syllables when she feels me smile
against her skin. "I was having a dream."
He doesn't turn over.
We stay frozen like that for a long moment, staring into each other's eyes. My
sight's adjusted now, and without breaking her gaze, I swipe my tongue
against her cunt again. She clenches her jaw and shakes her head, but with my
mouth sucking hard against her cunt, her thighs shudder open and her head
falls back into the pillow. It drives pleasure straight to my cock seeing her
crumble like that.
She brings her hand to her mouth and bites down on it, trying desperately to
muffle herself and her breathing. Her husband-to-be is right there, half-
awake, inches away from where I am groping and eating out his wife. I don't
care if she screams. I want her to. I want her to shamelessly fill the whole
house up with that hot, hungry voice, telling them all how she feels for me.
That would be something worth dying over. They could etch it on my fucking
gravestone:
Here lies the sorry bastard who made Ava St. Clair come.
She thrashes mutely as I slow the pace, licking long, loving stripes up her
cunt, from each tight fold up to her clit.
She wants to twist and squirm so badly, not even daring to breathe now.
She gasps softly and clamps her hand harder over her mouth. She gazes down
at me, terror and arousal in her eyes. She's close, her restraint slipping, her
body shaking. She tries to close her legs and push me off, but I open them
roughly and meet her gaze, fearless as I spread her thighs wider and hungrily
rub my lips across the smooth valleys of her pussy again.
Her mouth opens, her cry silent.
There's nothing she can do to stop herself from coming, and there's nothing
she can do to stop me from making her. This one blistering moment
encapsulates everything we have ever been—just two people, doomed to need
each other to the end, in all the worst ways.
She shakes in my grip, her silent breaths heaving in her chest as she falls back
into her pillow, leaving her shaking legs in the air as she orgasms hard,
trembling from head to toe. Pleasure glistens in her eyes and streams down
her face, her hitched breaths shuddering mutely.
I lean in against her ear, daring to whisper just a few words,
"Good girl."
I slip out of her room as silently as I came, leaving her trembling head to toe.

Over her shoulder, Thaddeus starts to snore.

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