Page 21 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

Yes, my dick, but I can’t point to that.

Bella's lips brush against my neck, and I groan softly. Her hand slides down my abdomen and lower. “How about here?”

Yes, is all I can think. I’m feeling pleasure and excitement. Her hand strokes over my dick, somehow free of my slacks. I arch into her touch. Those long, warm fingers send delicious sensations coursing through me.

“Is this better?” Her lips trail down my abdomen, heading toward my dick. I’m delirious with need now.

“More.” I can hear the aching need in my tone. In the back of my mind, there are all sorts of reasons I shouldn’t do this. She’s only nineteen, for Christ’s sake. She’s my father’s fiancé… except I know I can’t let that happen. I don’t know how I’ll save her and Gia too, but I know I have to.

Her lips wrap around the tip of my cock, her tongue gently lapping around the edge. I’ve been with a lot of women in my life. Had many orgasms. But I haven’t felt one come on so quickly, so powerfully since I was a teenager getting a lesson from a hooker paid for by Max for my birthday.

“Fuck… yes… Bella…”

I wake with a start. I’m disoriented, and then I realize I’ve just had a dream about Bella sucking me off. Fuck. Was it a wet dream? My hand goes to my dick. It’s hard, but dry, thank fuck.

But now I’m noticing how dark and quiet it is. I sit up and once again am nearly brought down by nausea. I manage to rise and lumber my way toward a window at the front of the house. Pulling the curtain aside, I note that it’s dark out. I’ve been out for hours. Plenty of time for Bella to leave.

I stumble to the kitchen, looking out the back window. I’m shocked to see the car still parked behind the house.

“Bella?” My throat feels like sandpaper, so my voice is rough, barely audible. I have to consider that she hoofed it out of here. I know she didn’t like being in a stolen vehicle. Or maybe someone showed up and took her. And I slept through it. The idea of not waking up because she was fucking me with her mouth in a dream makes me sick.

Using the walls to help me stay upright, I manage my way down a hall. Room one with two sets of bunk beds is empty. Room two, with a queen bed, is empty. At the end of the hall, I reach the final room. In it is a large king bed and a sleeping woman. I feel like I walked into a fairy tale. Sleeping Beauty? Maybe Goldilocks.

I stagger in and watch her for a moment. She’s radiant in sleep, her features relaxed, her long, dark hair spread over the pillow. The moonlight coming in from under the curtain is casting a glow that makes her look like an angel.

I should leave her alone, make my way back to the couch, or maybe the queen bed. But I’m so fucking tired. My side feels like it’s on fire. So instead, I lie on the bed beside her. Before my head hits the pillow, darkness takes me again.

8

BELLA

Iwake slowly, feeling warm and comfortable. A sense of safety envelops me as I snuggle closer to the solid warmth beside me. The rhythmic rise and fall of breathing lulls me, and I'm tempted to drift back to sleep. Except…

My eyes fly open as I realize I'm pressed against a man's body. Not just any man. Nic Nardone.

I've never shared a bed with a man before. The shock of it freezes me in place. How did this happen? I’m sure he was on the couch when I finally went to bed last night. I suppose it would make sense he’d look for a bed to sleep in over the couch, but why this bed? Did he know I was already in it?

Nothing untoward has happened. We’re both fully dressed. He’s firmly on his side of the bed, lying on his back. I, on the other hand, am the one snuggled up against his side. I should move. I know I should. But a traitorous part of me wants to stay right where I am, savoring this unexpected warmth and comfort. It feels safe, which is ridiculous considering the circumstances that brought us here.

I study him. In sleep, he looks calm, even peaceful. Maybe too peaceful. A surge of panic shoots through me. I can't tell if he's breathing. Is he still alive?

"Nic?" I poke his arm, hoping he’s not someone who flails when startled like my sister Sophia is. She once nearly gave me a black eye when I tried to wake her.

Nic doesn’t respond. I speak louder. "Nic?"

Just as I'm about to scramble off the bed in a full-blown panic, he says, “I’m not dead.”

Relief tumbles through me.

“You know how I know?” he murmurs. “Because angels aren’t allowed in hell.”

I wonder if he’s delusional. Or maybe he just called me an angel. I can’t stop the sweet feeling filling my chest at that thought.

Nic's eyes flutter open. He blinks slowly, focusing on my face hovering above his. “Are you disappointed?”

My brow furrows. “At what?”

“That I’m not dead.”

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