Page 77 of Vicious Heir

And finally, he slides his cock against my soaking pussy, and he slips himself deep inside with one rough thrust.

He goes from nothing to hilt deep in seconds, and it rips straight into my core like an atom bomb.

My back arches. My eyes roll back. I’ve been dancing on the knife’s edge, and now, finally, blissfully, I’m tumbling.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, stroking into me. Faster, faster, harder, stroking and stroking, and I’m coming this whole time, shattering again and again as wave after wave of pleasure tears through my core. “Such a good girl. Such a good fucking girl, and all mine. All fuckingmine.”

I come so hard I nearly black out. He growls his pleasure as he fills me, thrusting again and again, filling me to the brim until he breaks too. I’m greedy and dumb for it, and I move my hips harder against him, making sure he fills me to the very brim.

I’m gasping for air and sweating when it finally ends. He pulls me tight against his body, kissing me, telling me how good I did and how wonderful I am. “So fucking beautiful,” he says, trailing his lips along my shoulders. “Such a good girl. I knew you could hold out. Such a perfect fucking girl.”

I shudder with ecstasy and lean tighter against him, smiling and numb.

“You should go out of town more often,” I murmur.

He laughs and kisses my cheek. “If it means fucking you like that, I’ll leave as much as you want.”

“Well, maybe not too much.” I press back into him, feeling more open than I have in a very long time. “I like it when you’re here.”

“I like it when I’m here too,” he whispers.

I look back over my shoulder, and he kisses me.

Chapter 27

Adriano

Obsession isn’t a choice.

It’s compulsion. It’s control. Obsession means thinking about Lucy all the time, even when I should be focused on something else. Obsession is death in my business. Obsession is weakness.

But that’s the thing. It doesn’t go away, not when you want it to, not when you desperately need the brain space to deal with other, more important problems. That’s the nature of obsession. Otherwise, it’s something else.

She’s all I can think about. Every day it’s my wife. Her soft snores when I wake in the morning and her lips when I go to bed at night. Every inch of her in the hours between. I want to lose myself in dreams of her taste, her moans, the smell of her hair, the sound of her laughter. I could watch her all day long and study her little habits. The way she touches her lower lip when she’s thinking. The lines between her eyes when she’s frustrated. Her pink skin, the curve of her shoulders.

I should focus on business. Instead, she’s in me now.

Which makes all this so much worse. I need to pay attention to Vittorio’s quiet rage on the ride over to the meeting in Frank’s deli. Luca’s driving, and the mood in the armored SUV is tense.

We’re fighting a fucking war, and all I can do is think about my wife.

For as good as things are between me and Lucy, everything else is fucking shit.

“Another shooting,” Vittorio says, looking like he’s about to punch through the thick, bullet-proof glass. “Another dead soldier. Another fucking family missing a son and a father. And these coward fucking Ghost Wolf bastards keep disappearing into the night.”

“We’ll catch them,” I tell him, but I know he won’t listen. I’ve been counseling patience, but Vittorio’s a man of action. He wants to rip and kill and burn. The man isn’t a hunter. He’s a demolition crew. “Gray Wolf can’t stay hidden forever. Someone will talk.”

“They’re talking, all right. They’re just saying how we’ve gone soft. Half the city’s elite are turning against us. Too much death, they’re saying. Not enough profit.”

“I met with our Canadian friends. More products are on the way. Just be patient. We’ll starve Gray Wolf out, and when Demir shows his filthy head, I’ll slice his neck from ear to ear.”

“And if you don’t? Right now, we’re protected. We have enough political cover to keep drug sales flowing. But as soon as the whole city’s against us, we’re going to be on our own. That means increased police scrutiny. That means working small-time corners and losing more men to drug raids.”

I nod to myself. I share all of his concerns, and I’m as frustrated as he is. Only I know that rushing off and trying to burn Gray Wolf out isn’t going to help anything.

The problem is they have no solid home base. Those we know about are all protected by their rich clients. The wealthy elite in Philadelphia are deeply invested in art and antiques, and that means they have deep ties with Demir. That bastard’s using his influence against us, and though the tide’s turning very slowly, it’s most definitely turning.

“We make them money. We give them protection. Sooner or later, they’ll realize this city is stronger with us in it, and then Demir will face a reckoning.” At least, that’s my strategy. Hang on, make this war expensive and difficult, and counter his propaganda the best we can.

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