Page 94 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“That’s it,” I praised. “You did so well. Now you’re gonna take my cock.”

I stood and hoisted one of her legs around my waist, my throbbing shaft pressing into her waiting hole.

“Fuck,” Riona hissed as I thrust deep, filling and stretching her around my girth.

I pressed my forehead to hers, regulating my breathing and calming down enough so I wouldn’t blow my load immediately. “Relax for me, mia fiamma. Let me in. Take all of me.”

“Working on it.” She whimpered and tipped her hips, allowing me to slide in further until I reached the end of her.

“That’s my girl.” I rolled my hips to press against her clit, and she cried out, her strained voice music to my ears. “So good. Gonna fucking pound this needy little pussy. Ready?”

Riona’s blue eyes peeked out from under her lashes, and she nodded. “Yeah. Fuck me, Romeo. Don’t hold back.”

“Hold on.” It was all the warning I gave her before lifting her and slamming her against the wall as I filled her again and again. She clawed my back, the sharp bite of pain driving me close to my release. I needed to get her there first.

The door shook with every hard thrust, but Riona didn’t seem to mind her ass and back knocking against the wood. I bounced her on my dick, letting gravity get her as far down on my shaft as possible while my hips controlled the angle of penetration, so I ground against her g-spot.

“Get a hand on your clit.” I maneuvered so there was enough room for her to snake her arm between us and stroke herself. “You’re gonna come for me again, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Riona bit her lip in concentration, closing her eyes as her mouth fell open. I allowed it, even though I’d rather keep that connection.

“Take my cock.” Sweat dripped down my chest, and I gripped her ass hard enough to leave bruises so I wouldn’t lose my grip. Her inner walls closed in on my cock, signaling her impending release. “Take it. More. Fuck, yes. Give me that orgasm, Riona. Now.”

“Fuck!” she screamed as I pounded her pussy while it fluttered around my cock.

I gave in, feeling the rush of my own release as I filled her. I could stay like that forever, with our bodies joined and my head resting against hers as we recovered.

She was dead weight in my arms, sweaty and exhausted, and my limbs shook as I carried her to the shower and climbed inside, only letting her feet touch the tile floor when the water was hot. I bathed her, then cleaned myself before getting us dry and under the covers, where Riona promptly fell into a deep sleep while I cradled her and stared at the ceiling, trying to unpack the emotions filling my chest and threatening to overflow.

Was it love? I was going to find out.

Riona didn’t even stir when I left the bed the following morning and dressed. Sean and Sam were already chatting and drinking coffee in the kitchen. Sean’s shit-eating grin was the only warning he gave me he was about to go all asshole again.

“So, good night?” He waggled his eyebrows and thrust his hips. Sam spat a choked laugh into his coffee.

I took the high road, ignoring the innuendo. “My night was fine.”

“Fucking sounded like someone trapped you in your room, and you were trying to break the door down to escape,” Sean teased, making a panicked face and miming pounding on a door. “I thought I might have to rescue you.”

“I stopped him,” Sam offered, recovered enough to sip his coffee calmly. “Told him you were probably doing a little DIY project and to let you figure it out on your own.”

They giggled like schoolgirls, and I rolled my eyes before pinning them in place with a glare. “If you say a fucking word to Riona about it, I’ll kill you both and bury you in the woods, where nobody will ever find your bodies. And she’ll probably thank me for it.”

That made them laugh uproariously, but they left me alone, retreating to the game room to play pool. I sighed. I needed coffee if I had to deal with those fuckers all day.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

After nearly three weeks at the cabin, Dante gave us the all-clear to return to Chicago. We’d received word that Ettore had moved on from his gripe with Romeo, focusing instead on a conflict with the Russians. We’d awakened early this morning to pack everything up. Romeo had disappeared into the woods for his morning hike, cutting it down to only two hours before returning from his mother’s makeshift memorial to help close the house up.

He walked through the door, looking a little less morose than most days he went to do whatever it was he did in front of his mother’s rock. He nodded at me and motioned upstairs. “I’m going to grab a shower real quick.”

“Sure.” I sipped on my second cup of coffee for the day and admired his ass in the black joggers he wore.

My things were packed and stacked by the front door, along with Sam’s electronics. Sean came thundering down the stairs with his duffel, slinging it onto the growing pile and barely missing the expensive equipment. Gone were the casual clothes. The O’Connor brothers wore their trademark black—jeans, t-shirts, leather jackets, and boots. It was odd to see a bit of home out in the sticks.

“Do we get to take the food?” Sean asked, looking through the pantry.

“I don’t see why not,” I answered with a shrug. “I think somebody will come to clean after we’re gone. The place was stocked when we arrived.”

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