Page 10 of Silent Night Sins
I screamed his name, body contorted tight, as pleasure rushed through me on a series of waves. The release hit hard. It was undoubtedly the best orgasm of my life, and I knew why. The mask, the fantasy, it was complete. I rode the waves of euphoria, basking in the feel of everything I could ever want.
The thief continued to lick my pussy, urging me to the peak before I crashed. With a hiss, I tightened my legs around him. He tossed the candle. It landed on my belly with a soft thwack. But those large hands pushed my thighs up, and he fitted his mouth over my center, sucking and teasing every drop of my release.
I let out a strangled groan, and he relented with a wicked laugh. The mask slid back over his lower face. Only then did he rise and prowl over me.
Breathing hard, spent, and with the delicious aftershock of the orgasm, I gazed up into his deep brown eyes.
I know you….
“Merry Christmas, Nicky.” He bent, pressed his lips against my rising pulse, and then rose and walked toward the door.
He knew my name.
“Cristiano,” I whispered, scrunching the heels of my palms into my eyes. There wasn’t enough blood in my brain to place the man or the title.
When I looked, he was gone. Through the delirious haze, my brain scrambled to realize what had happened. He called me by the nickname no one used. There was only one person. I shot to my feet, my liquefied muscles protesting the sudden exertion.
He was at the bottom of the stairs, turning to walk down the hall.
“Wait!” I called, clattering down the steps. The skin of my inner thighs was damp with the evidence of what had transpired. I didn’t pause, not caring that I was only in a skimpy tank top as I ran.
The masked man didn’t pause. A rush of cold air smacked into me by the time I raced into the kitchen. I shivered but yanked the back door open.
“Tino!” I shouted.
The heavy snowfall engulfed the dark visage. The wind stole the name from my lips. I thought the thief paused and tipped his head, as if debating to turn and face me. But then another gust of wind brought more thick flakes battering down. When it cleared, the monster was gone.
Chapter 4 – Cristiano
She never called the cops.
That knowledge was fuel to the fire of my obsession. I had to keep busy so I didn’t go to her again. Between the never-ending work of helping my father with his crew of Made Men and the gym where I was training my ass off, I found enough to do to occupy most hours of the day. Punching the bag helped alleviate the stress. Grappling with my brother gave me a challenge. Vincenzo learned a few new tricks in prison that made his fighting style deplorable—which I fucking loved.
But each night, I found myself on her street, gazing into the festive windows. The soft, cheery light beckoned me. I shouldn’t have touched her, but from the way she looked at me, with a hunger that matched my own, I gave in to the temptation that night. I’d only meant to scare her when I chased her up the stairs. When I found her, it wasn’t the fear that spiked my veins. It was the way she gazed at me, as if I was the hero of her story, not the villain.
One taste was my damnation. I wanted to possess her. To claim her as my own—as it should be.
It was more than a carnal urge to take her, though. I wanted to be the one caring for the angel, but damned souls like me didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as something so pure, so polished and bright.
That was why I had to stay away, wandering the freezing silence of the night.
Nicole went abroad for art school after graduating from Thilton Preparatory School. I knew she was talented. With a master’s degree under her belt, she stayed in Europe, consulting at historic sights and working for elite galleries. My little angel was so fancy. But her last job, a prestigious one from what I gathered, seemed to have ended on a bad note. She was no longer on their payroll, and they refused to give a reference when I contacted them under the guise of a headhunter. That left me wondering if she was going to create her own masterpieces. She was talented enough, that was for damn sure.
Walking into Mama Ana’s Bar & Grill, I headed straight to the back table. Don Morelli sat there, sipping a Diet Coke with his two capos. My father shot me a calculating look but didn’t give anything away. While Nicola Messina encouraged me to pursue boxing, he wanted me to be knowledgeable in the business, should I need something to fall back on later in life. It was common for me to join leadership when they met with the big boss. They gave me the most important tasks, like blackmailing an attorney. And when I told them Loring was still away, and that it was only one of his kids who was home, no one questioned me further on the matter.
Not even Vincenzo, who’s sat in the car the whole time. He had no love for that family and wanted no details about my adventures.
“Where’s Sammy D?” I asked, taking a chair and spinning it around to sit at the end of the booth.
“He’s got the flu,” Don Morelli grumbled. “None of us wants to catch it.”
I felt genuinely bad for the underboss’s wife. Sammy D was a crank at the best of times. It was hard to imagine him laid up, sick and peevish.
“Ginny’s been asking about you, Cristiano. Wants to know if you enjoy skating?” Matteo Deluca gave me a pointed look.
I must not have hidden my shudder of disgust well enough, because my father kicked me under the table. But what was I supposed to do! Mat was Sammy D’s younger brother, and he must not know what a condom was, because he had a gaggle of chicken-armed daughters, whom he was always trying to set me up with.
Porca vacca! I’ll have to warn Vincenzo.
