Page 62 of The Mafia's Surprise Gift

“Thought so.”

There was a moment of peaceful bliss when I stepped past him, intent on heading back upstairs, and our skin brushed together. It was just a touch, but it was enough to make me pause and turn back to him.

“Do you want to come with me?” The question was out of my mouth before my thoughts could catch up, but when Rocco nodded, I knew I didn’t regret it. I still had a lot to think about, but if one thing could help me sleep, it was his presence.

Rocco followed me all the way upstairs and into my bedroom. The moment the door closed, his arms slid around me and he pulled me tight against his warm torso. I breathed in his delicious scents of wood and citrus. Then his mouth claimed mine, and like a record player finding a scratch, my thoughts screeched to a halt.

Nothing else mattered but the warm press of his lips and the heat from his arms against my back. He kissed me deeply while I slid both my hands up his bare chest and over his shoulders. Rocco scooped me up into his arms and carried me toward the bed. When he set me down, he crawled over the top of me, and I entered such a heightened blissful state just from contact that every touch sparked.

He kissed my throat, nibbled across my shoulders, and removed my pajama top with one swift move. Then his hot mouth traveled over my breasts, teased my nipples, and worked its way down my abdomen. I caressed his shoulders, stroked my fingers through his hair, and clutched at his hand. Then Rocco was between my legs, and my world melted into heat and pleasure.

With my mind calm, all I could think about was how amazing he felt. Even after all this time, it was like he knew exactly what buttons to press and where to touch. He hugged my thighs with his arms and pulled me against his mouth, thrusting his tongue deep inside me. The moans that rolled off him matched my own, and I scrambled for something to hold onto as the pleasure built. Each time he flattened his tongue to a point, my heart would kick up in my chest. Then he sealed his mouth over my pussy, creating a firm circle of pleasure, and then he sucked.

I arched and moaned, writhed, and whimpered as the focus on my clit became so intense that I wanted to get away. And at the same time, I never wanted him to stop.

I came with a cry muffled into my pillows, and Rocco held me through it all.

Then he was over me, locking eyes with me and thrusting his cock so deep that it took my breath away. He didn’t look away. He stared deep into my eyes with every thrust, and I couldn’t look away, either. My hands looped around his neck, and I clung on as he fucked me hard and deep, picking up the pace as we both got closer and closer to climax. I was addicted to the sensation of being full of his cock, of feeling his hands constantly caress my body, of his lips on mine even as he stared into my soul.

It was the most intimate moment of my life.

We came together, switched positions, and fucked until the sun started to peek out from underneath my curtains. I was addicted to the pleasure, constantly seeking more even as my body screamed from overstimulation and exhaustion. My last orgasm was on my knees with Rocco’s hands around my throat as he fucked me from behind. My moans were silenced by his grip each time they got too loud, and by the time we climaxed together, my legs were shaking and I couldn’t stop.

I was utterly and completely at peace. Sleep came almost instantly as Rocco kissed my temple, and I welcomed the darkness.

When I awoke, the sun was pouring through a gap in my curtains. My body ached, and my pussy throbbed loudly as I rolled over. My heart was full, and my mind was at peace.

Until I spotted Rocco.

He sat upright next to me, his phone in hand. He stared down at it with a look on his face that I couldn’t quite decipher. It was something between anger and pain. Reaching out, I lightly touched his arm, which was chilly under my fingertips, as if he’d been sitting like this for a long time.

“Rocco?” When he didn’t respond, I ignored my body’s complaints and sat up fully. “Rocco, what is it?”

“They know who did it.”

“Did what?”

“They know who killed my dad.”

26

ROCCO

“You’re making a mistake,” Vito growled softly and pulled harder on his cigar. A large cloud of smoke escaped his lips when he sighed, then he used that cigar to point at me. “This whole thing is their fault. Fucking Ruskies. Now you stand there and tell me war is not the answer?”

“It isn’t.” I stood near the window, staring down at the street. Just below, several cars pulled up to the sidewalk and several Russians poured out. After a thirty-second sweep, the Russian Pakhan stepped out and adjusted his jacket.

“We should kill them all!”

Vito spoke from a place of pain. I understood that. Pain that was shared with me. My father was dead. His absence in my life was a growing cavern made all the more painful by the news that I had a son.

Did my father feel the same as I do now? Did he want to burn down the entire world just to keep me safe? Is that what fueled his bad decision to keep me away from Mae?

Because I felt that way. I didn’t know my son, but I understood Mae’s actions, and those few burning minutes when he was missing, and I knew he was mine? I wanted to burn that town to the ground to find him.

“Why?” Vito snapped. “We know who gave the order to kill my son. Your father. That Russian general does not deserve to breathe air, never mind enter this building.”

Slowly, I turned to Vito and adjusted my tie. “Because I have a son. And I refuse to enter his life while at war with another family. I refuse to place him in a position where he is nothing but a bargaining chip.”

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