Page 69 of Twins for the Mafia Heir

Numbly, I close myself in the bathroom and take the test. Raleigh knocks on the door to be let in, and together, we wait on the cold tile floor for the results.

For the entire two minute wait, I can’t even be sure what I want the result to be, I just know that I wish Achilles were here to see it with me.

But when two pink lines show up on the tiny test screen, it’s only Raleigh there to hold me as I start to sob.

Chapter 37

Achilles

This time, it’s Emma holding out a black card for the man behind the counter to inspect, and it’s Emma who leads me into the private elevator.

Her grey eyes glow in the light of the elevator’s small chandelier as she stares up at me. Her sweet smile turns feisty the higher we climb. I brush my fingers across her cheek, unmarred by any bruise, and bend down to kiss her lips-

She ducks out of my grasp and slips out of the elevator, more smoke than human. The lights of the hotel room slowly fade into their full brightness, limning her platinum hair with a glow like a halo.

I follow, like a goddamn guppy tempted by an anglerfish.

Emma’s arms reach up. Pull me down. Wrap tight around my neck. Her mouth is soft and hot and sweet as candy against mine. When my teeth knead her bottom lip, she opens up for the sweep of my tongue.

We don’t even make it to the bed. I sink to my knees with her body crushed against mine, and lay her down on the plush carpet. I don’t know where our clothes went, but they’re gone now. Her elfin body stretches out beneath me, the nipples of hersmall breasts perked. I kiss them, lick them, pinch them tenderly between my teeth, and press my knee up between her legs.

She’s already wet against my leg, the pulse of her heartbeat echoing the pulse of blood through my cock.

I’m not ready yet, though. I have to worship every inch of her body with my mouth first.

I have to show her just how much I’ve fucking missed her.

Squeezing her breasts in each of my palms and grinding her clit with my knee, I kiss my way up and down her neck, across her collarbone, over her sternum and stomach. Emma mews with need and clutches at my hair, desperate to get me closer, get me inside her. Not yet, it’s too soon. I want her fully unraveled before I bury myself in her pussy.

I flatten myself down on the carpet, and bury my face between her legs. My tongue drags up and down her clit, turning her breathing into panting. Her hips buck, craving more,more. I’m all too happy to oblige and thrust my tongue into her pussy.

Emma’s fingernails drag up my neck and scalp, her pelvis rolling up against my mouth. She’s got me as close as I can be, but it’s still not enough. I’d devour her if I could.

Her spine tightens, her thighs pressing on either side of my skull, deafening me to everything but her heartbeat. When she cums, her scream drowns out even that. I feast on her slick and carry her through one orgasm and straight into another and into a third.

She’s sobbing and incoherent when I pull my aching jaw out from between her legs. Her body is so loose that it takes no force at all to flip her on her stomach and prop her ass up in the air. When I thrust into her pussy, her cry is muffled by the carpet.

I use my grip on her hips as my anchor and start slamming into her hard and fast. Emma’s knuckles turn white as she grabs fistfuls of the carpet, hanging onto reality by threads. Every time I thrust I go deeper. Every slap of our bodies is a lightning strikeof pleasure. Every time Emma’s mouth opens, a sweeter and sweeter sound comes out.

The end comes too soon. But it’s not the end I anticipate, where I pour my seed into Emma’s waiting body and carnal ecstasy crashes over my head.

It’s the moment I open my eyes and realize I’m not fucking wildly in a hotel room, but sleeping on a couch alone in a safe house. The rising sun is just barely starting to turn the dark around me into hazy lavender shapes. I sit up, shuffling uncomfortably around the erection in my pants, and drag my hands over my face.

The hours I sleep are few and far between nowadays, but it doesn’t help when the dreams are so vivid it doesn’t feel like I’ve slept at all. The days have melted into weeks, and I’ve avoided making a decision about what comes next. Partly for Sidony’s sake, and mostly for mine.

There have been days I had to physically hold myself back from buying a ticket across the ocean. Others, I only avoided buying a ticket to London by a hair. I’m caught squarely between chasing down love, vengeance, and releasing both so I can move forward into the future with the last member of my family I have left.

For the second time in my life, I find myself unable to make that decision, paralyzed by the loss I’ve suffered. But this time, the loss was caused by me alone, and while it’s repairable in theory, it might be too late to do so.

“You’d be disappointed in me, Maddie,” I murmur to myself, “if you could see me now.”

The wind over my shoulders is bitingly cold, but I’m still sweating as I stab my shovel into the frozen earth and pull out another mound of dirt. Beside me, Piers drags his arm over his forehead, wiping away perspiration and leaving mud behind. I’ve never dug a grave with my own two hands, but digging one into a backyard in Scotland in the heart of February is not the best place to start.

Unfortunately, this is where Samantha Warwick asked to rest forever, and so this is where Piers and I will lay her.

She passed away quietly in her sleep last night, and instead of sorrow, Piers seems to be feeling mostly relief. He hasn’t shed a tear, not even when we wrapped his mum’s body in sheets. Perhaps it’ll come later, after the last bit of dirt has been resettled. Or perhaps he’s had too much time over the last year to mourn before his mum even died, and now the knowledge that his mum is no longer in pain has brought him freedom and peace.

Piers stabs his shovel into the dirt and leans his arms against the top. There’s color in his cheeks and nose almost as bright as his hair. When he looks at me, I’m wary of the intensity in his eyes.

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