Page 33 of Blood Ties

He did it again.

And again, and again, and again, until I was screaming his name, and he immediately slapped a hand over my mouth to silence me. Not once during all that did he lose his rhythm. When my cries subsided, he removed it, then pressed a soft kiss to my lips in apology.

He reached one hand down to clutch my ass cheek as he drove in, then his pace quickened and a low moan slipped free. His lips kissed along my skin, pausing only to suck or bite at whim. As he moved along my jaw, he was almost frantic and so was I.

I ground against him with each wild thrust, and though I was shocked, I knew I was going to come again.

When he released his grip on my ass and smoothed his hand up my side, I whimpered. His deft fingers found my nipple and pinched hard. He groaned my name against the sensitive skin below my ear and I moaned. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered.

What was crazy, was never in my life had I felt so beautiful with a man. No, more than beautiful—desirable. As our bodies continued to come together in a steady rhythm, he tasted everywhere he could reach, and his breaths became uneven as he lifted his head and stared down at me.

I slid a hand up over his shoulder to cup the side of his neck. His pulse pounded under my thumb, and I swear it matched the thundering of my own. Sweat left a sheen over his brow. His pupils were huge, almost swallowing up the stormy blue of his irises. Lost in his gaze, my body began to tense. Pressure gathered and grew.

His white teeth gripped his lower lip and a wildness took over. Gone was the steady, even pace. In its place was a primal, driving need. Skin slapped and my heartbeat whooshed in my ears. The first pulse of his cock, coupled with the tugging and twisting on my nipple, set me off.

“Alessio!” I gasped as the fireworks went off inside me and I clung to him. The ecstasy throbbing through my pussy and spreading through my body sent me careening into a place where all I felt was bliss—and all I saw were the flashes of light behind my eyelids.

All I felt was him pouring everything he had inside me.

After I slowly floated back to reality, my body went limp, but my legs remained hooked around him. His forehead rested on my shoulder as he took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Fuck, Nivea,” he whispered in a raspy voice. His weight was comforting, but not suffocating, as we simply existed in each other’s space. The muted sounds of music and people laughing filtered into the room and I remembered where we were.

For a few moments, we didn’t move. Finally, he lifted his head and stared down at me. So many things were said in the silence, though no words were spoken. He lowered his lips to mine and the kiss he gave me was sweet and gentle.

When he left my body, I whimpered at the loss. He padded to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth that he used to clean me up. Then he tossed it into the bathroom where I heard it land in the tub with a splat. He climbed into bed and pulled me close.

“We’re gonna figure this out,” he softly whispered into my hair. Then we dozed off.

I woke to an empty bed, but I smiled to myself and relished in the ache between my thighs. Feeling lazy and satisfied, I snuggled into the bedding and waited to see if Alessio would return. My growling stomach drove me from the comfort of the bed, and I brushed my teeth, then dressed and wandered out to see if I could find some food.

As I turned the corner, I heard a familiar laugh and froze in my tracks. Then a grin stretched across my face and I ran across the room, oblivious to anyone but the big man getting up from his seat at one of the tables. I threw myself in his arms and he squeezed me tight.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I told my dad, who kissed the top of my head.

“I got here as soon as I could,” he rumbled, then released me.

That was when I noticed I’d made a spectacle of myself. There were several couples and a few single guys sitting around the surrounding tables. Several of them had plates of food and a growl erupted from my middle.

My dad chuckled. “Let’s get you a plate.”

I followed him into the kitchen. A redhead in ice-cream cone PJ pants looked up from where she was rinsing dishes, then placing them in the dishwasher. She smiled as she stood upright and faced me. I saw her tank top matched the pants.

“Hi, I’m Willow. There’s plenty left,” she motioned to several industrial-looking silver pans with foil over them.

“Thanks,” my dad told her with a friendly grin and a nod. He showed me where the plates and silverware were, then poured me a glass of OJ. Leave it to my dad to figure out where everything is within minutes of arriving somewhere.

“When did you get here?” I asked the next thing I was wondering out loud.

“Been here about an hour or so,” he replied as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

As I filled my plate, I noted he was wearing the black cargo pants, boots, and tight long sleeve shirt I remembered seeing him in occasionally as a child. They never told me the specifics, but when I was old enough, my dad had explained that he’d been a mercenary after getting out of the military. It was why we had so many protocols in place. He never wanted me to be completely unprepared.

Motioning toward them, my gaze narrowed, and I asked, “What’s up with all that?”

“Eat and then we’ll talk about it.”

We joined everyone else. As I took my first bite, Alessio came walking out of the back with the man he’d called Facet. My cheeks heated and one side of Alessio’s mouth lifted into a slight grin.

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