Page 26 of Rotten Men

“I don’t recall saying you could cum again,bella. Patience is a virtue, and all that shit,” he adds mockingly, giving me another quick slap, and making my eyes roll to the back of my head with how good he feels.

Each impaling thrust brings me higher and higher. His iron grip on my hips is sure to leave a mark. Yet I welcome the pain, to keep me from floating away into oblivion.

“On second thought, fuck patience.” He growls like an untamed beast set free, and pounds mercilessly into me; I fear we might break the boudoir that’s keeping me steady. His breathing becomes as erratic as my own. Sweat covers my brow, as ravished moans leave my lips.

“Fuck! Cum,bella. Cum!” he orders in a pained cry, and I follow his command all too willingly, reaching the perfect state of nirvana, which I’ve only ever been able to achieve glimpses of. His loud cry of rapture keeps my heart from shattering so divinely.

Once both of us fall back from heaven’s grace, Gio turns me around, and my arms wrap themselves around his shoulders instinctively. I lean my head on his chest, blissfully content, listening to the beat of his heart.

“I hear you need our help,” Gio finally whispers, holding me tightly against his clothed form. We made love for the first time, and I’ve yet to feel his naked skin against mine.

“I do. I need you to,” I begin to murmur, but Gio places his finger over my lips, stopping me from saying another word, and sets a gentle kiss on my temple.

“You’ll tell me all about those needs in the morning,principessa. Tonight I’d much rather satisfy my own, if you don’t mind,” he teases softly.

“I was under the impression you’d have satisfied those needs just fine without me.” I smile shyly, but the tinge of regret and bitterness still comes through.

“A man can fuck a thousand women and never be fully satisfied when all he really wants and dreams about is one in particular. Tonight that is exactly what I plan to do. Make love to my girl—the only one that ever meant something to me,” he whispers tenderly.

“Am I still your girl, Gio?”

“You never stopped being,bella,” he confesses and presses his plump, soft lips against mine, sealing any unspoken words behind them.

Eleven

Giovanni

I walk past the dark, foul-scented lobby, wanting to reach fresh air as quickly as possible. Selene shouldn’t be in a dump like this. She deserves far better than this cockroach-infested slum. But I can’t fault her choice in dwelling. If she wants to remain hidden from the Outfit, then this place is exactly where she needs to stay. I mean, a motel where twenty-dollar hookers bring their johns for a quick blowjob or a fuck is the last place any ofThe Butcher’ssoldiers will look for the mafiaprincipessa. Silvio has always underestimated her in that way. He knows she has a spine of steel, but he doubts she can live beneath her privileged upbringing.

How wrong he is.

Selene would rather sleep under a bridge in the worst part of town before raising any flags to her father regarding her whereabouts. He’s the one who is the fool in thinking otherwise. Yes, mybellais capable of anything to ensure her survival. I just always assumed her road to freedom would be a lonesome one. Never did I think she would find love in someone’s arms that weren’t mine. Vincent and Dominic won’t be pleased with this news either.

When I finally pass through the rotating door, I close my eyes and take a long breath in, to settle my turbulent mind. It doesn’t do much, but at least I’m no longer breathing in the vile stench from inside this motel doors. When I open my eyes though, my lips turn up in a devilish smirk at the image of déjà vu in front of me.

I bridge the gap between myself and the two men leaning against a black Jag. I’m not sure what shouts out for more attention—the expensive, over-the-top vehicle, or the menacing, armed men in front of it. I feel the gawks and hear the careful whispers of the people passing them by. I grin to myself thinking they have no idea these twomafiososare the only family I give a shit about.

“Well, well, well. I must say, this seems oddly familiar,” I taunt when I’m close enough for the bystanders not to overhear our conversation.

Dom doesn’t move from his stance, preferring to keep his fabricated, relaxed position while Vincent takes the final puff of his cigarette, throwing the butt to the ground and stomping his repressed aggravation out on it.

“Funny you should say that. I was thinking the same thing,” he responds coldly.

“So, how did you know I was here?” I ask.

“Last time she paid me a visit, I put men on her,” Vincent responds disgruntled as if I should know better than to ask such stupid questions.

“Of course you did. And the minute they saw me here, they called the boss to snitch on me. Good to know we have men in the syndicate and not gossipy bitches?!” I complain, picking out the tinted-window car two rows back.

“They at least trustworthy?” I ask, worried if these men guarding Selene are loyal to our boss or someone less desirable.

“Is there anyone trustworthy in our lives?” Vince counters unapologetically.

The answer to that question is a definite ‘no’. Regardless, I’m sure Vincent selected whoever fitted the bill, or as close to it as possible. Trust is something that can’t be taken lightly, and as much as I trust Vincent with my life, when it comes to Selene, old wounds remind me that trust is sometimes too fragile of a word.

“I trust them,” Dom interjects. In other words, he trusts that they know he’ll kill them if they mess up. “Now, can we please just get out of here before we bring unneeded attention to the place?” Dom grunts, finally opening the Jag’s door and climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Sure, why not? I need a drink anyway,” Vincent replies, walking to the other side of the car.

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