Page 35 of The Almost One

CHAPTERELEVEN

RIVER

Twenty days.

Twenty mother fucking days since I was promised answers, and Marco’s still keeping some big-ass secrets from me.

Admittedly, having another red envelope addressed to me showing up on the literal doorstep has set some new balls in motion. Not the fun kind of balls either. It’s just given Marco excuses to have the conversation I’m craving when he “has more information” because he doesn’t want to worry me.

Total crock of shit to be honest because I’m only worrying more with the not knowing, but I’ve allowed it… allowed him to believe I’m accepting his silence.

Little does he know, I’ve got my ownpeople. A network of escorts can find out almost anything in this city, so I had Sheryl arrange a meeting with our most loyal girls—and guys, I figured adding guys to the roster would be a winner, and it is.

Now, it’s just a waiting game.

One that involves spending time in the Hamptons. Marco’s mom was finally ready to come home. At least, that’s the reason I’ve been given, and while I believe it—to some extent—I know it has something to do with the notes as well. They scared the shit out of me, left a lump of lead in my stomach, and this is exactly why I’m not fighting him on this trip. I’m not fucking stupid.

It’s not the first time I’ve had a stalker of some kind, but it is the first time I’ve had someone to support me and help keep me safe.

My mind is currently a fucked up, self-contradicting mess. There is no getting over the things I’ve been through. The pain and sadness doesn’t disappear, but I’m a badass bitch who’s learning to grow around all that, learning to make the happy bigger than the sad.

Leaning into Marco, the sand beneath my bare feet as they sit just off the blanket, I let out a soft sigh of contentment. Here, in this moment, the shit all seems miniscule.

“What’s on your mind, Tesoro?” He moves his arm up and around my shoulder, stroking up and down my arm as he plants a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that conversation yet.” I shift and smirk up at him, receiving an eye roll in response. “Well, you asked.” Relaxing my head back in its original position against his chest, I smile. Even Marco’s annoying eye roll is sexy, and I know there are secrets between us—which I hate with a passion—but I also know they’re not being kept maliciously. This man would do anything for me, which makes me a very lucky lady, indeed.

Listening to the beat of Marco’s heart, I watch as the sea meets the sand, sliding seamlessly across it with the rhythm of the waves. The sun is creeping beneath the horizon, causing the sky to shine in glorious deep oranges, and I spot my first evening runner jogging along the beach.

That is some dedication to fitness right there. Either that, or this person is exorcising their demons by punishing their body. Because, to me, going for a jog is absolutely a punishment. I’d rather slay my demons in other ways. One of those being with my husband.

I allow my hand to creep up Marco’s thigh, my fingers dancing across his bare skin and up to his stomach as I slowly lift his black T-shirt.

“You keep doing that and we’re both going to get sand everywhere.” His words are a low growl, just how I like it. The sound has a direct link to my clit, and I look up at him, smiling with mischievous thoughts.

His gray eyes are alight with passion and lust and pure love for me, and I damn near melt under his gaze. We could be seen out here by anyone and that thought sends a whole other kind of thrill through my body.

Gripping the bottom of his T-shirt, I tug at it so he lifts his arms, which he willingly does with a huge smirk on his gorgeous face. Once it’s off, he leans back on his hands, his legs sprawled out in front of him, and the eye contact is intense and sexy as Hell. I straddle him, the short red skater-style dress I’m wearing making it easy to split my legs over his muscled thighs.

“I think we’re about to get sand everywhere, Mr. Mancini. Can you handle that?”

He raises a brow in amusement as I rest my hands against his chest and place soft kisses across his collarbone and neck, growling when I reach his pulse points and nip gently.

“The question, Tesoro, is canyouhandle it?” He reaches between us to free his throbbing cock from its restraints—because yes, underwear is restraining, which is why I’m not wearing any.

I’m already wet just from rubbing myself against him and he can feel it with his hand between us as he places his tip at my entrance.

“You’re a filthy girl. No panties again and dripping wet for me.” In what feels like one movement, he grabs my ass and thrusts into my pussy, leaning forward to pull the top of my dress down with his other hand and sucking my nipple into his mouth. He bites and flicks his tongue against it and I’m mewling from the attention.

I swear, I’ve been close to one of those illusive nipple-only orgasms with this man. He’s a fucking genius with his teeth and tongue.

I bounce up and down, riding his giant penis like it’s giving me oxygen, my head thrown back in ecstasy as he continues to grip my ass and suck my nipples.

“Don’t come until I give you permission.”

What the fuck? I’m so close. I kind of want to disobey him, just to see what punishment I’ll get, but he must sense it because he slaps my ass and says, “No,” before attacking my mouth with the same vigor he gave my nipples.

I moan into him, and he responds with a groan of his own, sending delicious vibrations throughout my whole body, and I have to concentrate really hard not to come.

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