She cried out, a soft little sound that sent an arrow piercing his heart, and he felt her channel clamping down, spilling hot honey around his fingers. The flush was on her breasts, her neck, her face. Her eyes had gone dazed, a rich haze of heat and pleasure mixed. She looked so gorgeous and abandoned, lying against him, her breasts thrust out, reddened, nipples inflamed, her trousers pushed down and the tops of her thighs glistening with evidence of her orgasm.
“I’m not sure I can stand up.”
She still had her eyes open. Still watched him in the mirror.
“I’ve got you.”
“I’m a mess.”
“You’re sexy as hell. You know you are.”
“No, I mean a mess. Look at me. I need a washcloth.”
She indicated the dark curls now damp and gleaming, along with the tops of her thighs. He grinned at her in the mirror.
“No problem, piccola, I’ve got this.”
She looked at him suspiciously, but he was already on his knees, pulling her legs wide, wrapping his hands around her lower thighs to lock her in place, and he used his tongue to lick up the inside of her thighs, catching any honey that escaped. He took his time, devouring every drop, listening to her soft entreaties, her threats, her laughter. Her fists settled in his hair but she didn’t pull him away as he used his tongue and teeth, getting creative, teasing her, inflaming her again, showing her that spontaneous sex between a husband and a wife in the light of day could be fun and playful.
He stroked her cheeks, bringing her closer to him, and then, when he suckled and pressed deep, he stroked the sweet little star between her cheeks. Petting her. Soothing her. Giving that a rhythm, too. Letting her get used to the feel of him touching her everywhere but not demanding anything of her. Then she was crying out again and he was cleaning her up for real. For some reason, that soft little sound she made when she came for him went straight to his heart every time. The fact that she would trust him the way she did humbled him beyond reasoning.
He went up onto his knees and pushed his face into her belly, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so in love with you, Nicoletta.”
Her hands trembled as she stroked caresses through his hair. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, Taviano. I was thinking about the two of us earlier. How, if I had known I could just be naked, gone into the shadows and disappeared, where my step-uncles and Benito wouldn’t have been able to get to me, I would have done so. That you would have never been so lucky. But if I’d done that, I wouldn’t have met you.”
He stood up slowly. “Don’t, tesoro. I wouldn’t have ever wanted you to have to be with those monsters or have them put their hands on you.”
“I know you wouldn’t want that for me. But what I’m saying is, I wouldn’t change what happened if it meant I couldn’t be with you now.”
He knew she meant it. She was killing him because she did mean it. She did love him that much. She had married him thinking he didn’t love her and would never fall in love with her, but she’d married him anyway so that he could continue to be a rider. Nicoletta felt he was worth saving. Just being with her, he could admit to himself that had Stefano known what had happened to him, he would be like Nicoletta. He would have given Taviano that same fierce love, but he also would have treated him differently. He would have been more careful with him. He would have guarded his words. Been more protective. Taviano would never have been treated the way Stefano treated his other siblings.
Very gently he pulled her bra up over her breasts, hating to hide anything that beautiful from his sight. He buttoned the jacket. “I’ll be right back with a washcloth.”
“Are you certain your brother isn’t going to come sauntering in?”
“I’m certain, Nicoletta. I wouldn’t have started anything if there was that possibility. I can guarantee you that right now, Stefano has other things on his mind than the Demons.”
We aren’t going to have an exact location where the Oklahoma City chapter of the Demons might choose to stop,” Vittorio said. He sat with Elie and Emmanuelle at a picnic table in an empty campground. They’d ridden the shadows for hours, trying to get ahead of the Demons before they made it anywhere near Chicago.
Rigina and Rosina Greco had eyes on the cars driving from Oklahoma to Chicago, using satellite surveillance. Having more money than most countries came in handy when you wanted—or needed—toys. They knew the Demons would have to stop soon for fuel and most likely would choose to eat something as well.