Page 12 of Veiled Amor

His declaration sizzled the back of her throat, and thank God he didn’t appear to want to talk because she couldn’t speak even if her life depended on it.

She’d spent hours having animalistic sex with her brother-in-law.

What could be said other than regret?

Only, she didn’t feel regret as her eyes grew heavier. Nor when she felt him slip from her body and leave an arm around her waist.

Sleep claimed her like it conked her on the head.

All she heard in her mind were his groans of completion over and over.

Regret might come.

But she’d sleep first.

Now

No glass of wine or sleeping pill had ever relaxed her the way Giancarlo did that night. She could go for his brand of relaxation now because the bathtub soak was doing nothing to dampen her thoughts or her worry. The worry over being followed forced her into calling Giancarlo’s motorcycle club earlier that day.

It was difficult not to go back to that night. To remember how it felt to have his hands locked around her hips while she rose and fell on his cock, experiencing how he slammed up into her and his grunts of release. For many reasons, it was a night she should have chalked up to emotional madness, two sad people reaching for comfort.

But it was so much more than that, or so she thought.

Lucia expected nothing from Giancarlo. She might have been nineteen then, but she’d learned early on never to expect from people because it ended with disappointment. At twenty-six, it should have been a faded memory. Yet it hadn’t faded at all.

The memories comforted her, turned her on, made her feel womanly.

God, how hot she became when she thought of how masculine he’d tasted when he’d pushed gag-deep into the back of her throat with no slow introduction.

Lucia sighed, sipped from the half-empty glass of wine, and laid her head back on the rolled-up towel, not ready to get out of the bathtub yet.

She let her eyes flicker closed, and she indulged in something she rarely allowed herself to.

For the next little while, she wasn’t a woman with a back full of problems when deep-diving her imagination, feeling hard, dominating lips, and tasting a memory she couldn’t forget. Ripples rushed across the water as she shuddered, her legs agitated beneath the dwindling bubbles, remembering how he’d held her down, wrenched her legs apart, and ate the climaxes out of her.

In her mind, she conjured up the man with the moody eyes and scratchy voice, and she moaned from low in her throat when he called her, “my sweet little fuck.”

FIVE

“He’s the one with the key.” - Lucia

Someone was following her.

Her paranoia had been twitching like a crackhead for days.

Having never been versed in espionage, other than watching The Blacklist, Lucia couldn’t say for sure what the unsettling feeling was.

For the fifth time that day, she looked over her shoulder.

“I’m freaking paranoid.”

She’d been out of her father’s house for nearly three weeks, and nothing had happened. If he’d somehow found her, he would have made his presence known.

No, that wasn’t correct.

Her father didn’t do the grunt work himself.

He had enough people working for him, that included crooked cops.

---