Wrong (Spada Crime Family #2) (43 page)

“Then get that shirt off. I need to kiss it better.” I say it sternly, firmly, because I know she won’t question me. As ordered, she starts to unbutton her blouse.

And no, she’s not hurt, not really. But when I see the long scrape on the outside of her elbow, I draw a quick breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

She looks at her arm. “For this? God, Cain, you probably saved my life. I’m okay with a few scrapes and bruises.” Moving a little closer, she puts her arms around my waist. “I’m just glad he didn’t hit you.” Pressing up onto her tiptoes, she kisses me gently. “I don’t know what I would have done if he’d…” She stops.

“He didn’t.” I stroke her eyebrows, kiss her forehead. “What even made you come?”

She shakes her head a little. She’s stopped crying, and there’s a kind of peace on her face now. “I didn’t want to live the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I had.”

It’s all I need to know. She came because she wasn’t ready to let go. Neither was I. And I’m sure not going to let her go now, not after everything.

“You’re staying here,” I tell her. “You’re my wife—you belong here in my house.”

“No, I don’t.”

I lift an eyebrow at the response. That’s not what I wanted to hear. But then she grins. “I belong in your bed, big guy. Hurry up and get me there.”

There’s an invitation I can’t refuse. I lean down to swing her into my arms. She’s small and light in my arms, and I’m reminded again of how close I came to losing her.

I get a firmer grip on her and head for the bedroom. Once we’re there I spread her out on top of the quilt and start easing her clothes off her, one piece at a time. “I need to check,” I tell her as I examine each exposed stretch of skin. “Be sure you really aren’t hurt anywhere.”

“You can’t just take my word?”

I slide my hand up her bare belly. “Would that be anywhere near as fun?”

“Point taken,” she says, and spreads her thighs so I can pull her pants off her.

It’s more than just the scrapes on her elbow. She’s got scrapes on her knees, too, and blood on her shin. I stare down at her. The sight of the injuries makes my stomach clench up. Instead of continuing my quest to undress her, I go to the bathroom to get a washcloth and some antibiotic ointment. It takes me a minute to find bandages.

She’s curled her legs up closer to her when I come back, as if she was afraid I was planning to abandon her. As I sit back down on the bed next to her, I stroke a hand up her inner thigh. She’s still got her panties on; I’ll take care of that in a minute.

“I guess it’s my turn to patch you up,” I say softly.

She reaches toward me, brushing her fingers against my arm. “You don’t have to. I’m all right, really.”

“Shhh. Just let me do this.” I use the washcloth to gently clean her scraped knees and then daub ointment on them. “Better,” I tell her, and as I tape on a big, square Band-Aid, I lean over and kiss her thigh, right where the skin is softest, so close I can smell her musky sex.

She makes a soft noise and reaches for me, but I duck back. “Not yet. You have another knee, you know.”

I tend to that knee, kiss her other thigh—a little higher this time, because why not?—then move on to her banged-up elbows. It’s really not bad, but I still feel awful. Granted, my pushing her out of the way might have put her out of harm’s way as far as Romano was concerned, but I hate it that I hurt her.

I sort out her elbows, then I lie on top of her, supporting my weight so I don’t squash her. “Jess.” I kiss her. “Jess.”

“Yes?”

“Jess… I love you. Don’t leave me. Not ever.”

She smiles up at me and draws my face down for a kiss. “You can count on that, McAllister.”

We just kiss for a while then, and I reacquaint myself with her flavor. It’s been…what? I can’t even remember. A few days? A week? I can’t believe I let her disappear on me like that. It sure as hell won’t ever happen again. I stroke her tongue, explore the inside of her mouth. It’s lazy and slow, nothing like the urgent sex we’ve indulged in in the past. I’m going to make love to her, I decide. No more fucking.

Well, maybe
some
fucking. There’s something to be said, after all, for that hot, dirty, up-against-the-wall thing.

My hand starts to drift down her body, my rough fingertips tracing over her smooth skin. My dick’s gone rock hard—it’s in favor of the fucking, but I overrule it—and everything is starting to smell like sex. Jess lifts her knees, pressing her thighs on either side of my hips while she pulses softly under me.

I brush down her belly, headed for her pussy, and then—

I jerk back. “Jess?”

“What?” She sounds taken by surprise, but also a little irritated.

“Is it okay if we fuck? With the baby and all?”

She grabs my face and holds it steady so she can look directly into my eyes. “Yes. It’s okay. Don’t be silly.”

“Well, I don’t know this shit. I’m a guy.”

She reaches down and curls her fingers around my dick. “Oh really? I had no idea.” Then she tugs on me, and I close my eyes, the better to get myself back under control.

Lunging up again, she bites at my lip, and then we’re kissing again, harder now, and her mouth deep into mine while her hand starts to work my cock. God, it feels good. I’ve missed this so much. Not only the sex, but just being with her.

Also definitely the sex.

She’s rubbing my dick against her thigh, and her thigh is getting wetter and wetter, my cock moving more and more easily against her soft skin. I want to be inside her, but I also want this to last. If I could stay here forever, feeling the lust build inside me, feeling my balls start to draw up and the base of my spine start to tingle, I’d be a happy man.

My dick begs to differ. Apparently it has more explicit needs in life.

Jess has different ideas, too, but they’re not the ideas I expected. She clasps my ass and pulls at me, easing me up and over her rather than inside her. After a moment of tussling, I realize what she’s up to and let her do it.

I shift up, and she squirms down, and a moment later she’s got my dick in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the head, her hand clasping the shaft. I can feel her fingertips exploring the ridges of the big veins then tracing down until she’s cupping my balls. She rolls them between her fingers. I stiffen and begin a slow thrust into her mouth.

Jess seems to have no problem with this. In fact she shifts so I can get a bit deeper, and when I press against the back of her throat, she swallows. The pressure makes me crazy. God, what did I ever do to deserve this woman? It must have been good. Which makes me think it must have been in a previous life, because I know for a fact I never did anything worthy enough on this trip through mortality.

She’s digging into my ass now with her fingers, and I can feel the nails biting into my skin. I thrust harder, barely able to control the speed anymore. She makes a slight nodding motion, which I take as a signal that it’s okay for me to keep doing what I’m doing.

My balls are tight and my dick feels like it’s about to explode when she suddenly pulls back. “I want you inside me when you come,” she murmurs.

“Fuck that,” I answer, but I don’t really mean it. I want to be inside her, too. I swallow and get myself back under control.

“Hey,” she answers, squeezing my dick. I think she’s reminding me I need to behave myself while she’s got my most delicate areas under her control. “Who’s in charge here?”

“Ha!” I grab her and flip so she’s on top of me. “I think I am.”

“That’s why you put me on top?” She seems a little flustered, but that’s okay. I like it when she’s off balance.

“Exactly.” To demonstrate my motives, I grab her hips and push her forward, positioning her over my mouth, and shove my tongue inside her.

“Cain… Jesus.”

“Just Cain is fine,” I tell her, speaking the words right against the slick-smooth skin of the inside of her cunt.

“Smartass,” she shoots back, and then I do my best to make sure she can’t focus enough to talk at all.

It seems to be working as I stroke my tongue all over her, rolling it around her clit, feeling it swell even as I touch it. I put my whole face between her thighs, nose against her clit, and tongue inside her as far as it can go. I start thrusting into her with my tongue, rolling her clit with my fingers. She’s shaking under me, shivering while she pants in short, sharp breaths.

Suddenly those short breaths turn into a keening, and she starts to pulse on me. I pinch her clit, gentle but firm, and she screams.

There we go. That’s more like it.

I can barely hold her down on the mattress while she comes. She bucks under me like a wild mustang, and I have to wrap an arm around her waist to keep my mouth in contact with her pussy. The thick wetness floods my tongue, and I hum my pleasure against her.

Finally she shoves my forehead with the heel of her hand, and I relent, letting her go. But the second my face is free from between her thighs, she starts to crawl back down my body.

“Fuck. Me,” she orders.

Funny. As much as I hate being bossed around by her father, I seem to not mind it at all coming from her. I do exactly what she says. Not that it’s difficult; she’s on top, so she’s doing most of the work.

I grab her hips as soon as they move into range and position her over my hot, hard dick. She reaches down to point it in the right direction and lowers herself on me. She’s hot and wet and so, so open as I slide into her, all the way in a single, decisive movement. There’s no need for the condom this time, obviously. I’ve done about as much damage in that regard as I can. Not that I regret it. Not anymore. I stroke a hand down her belly as I thrust into her.

I brace my hands on her hips and hold her there over me as I quicken my pace. Her hips undulate on mine, drawing me deeper than I can go by myself. She’s writhing on me, but in controlled movements, her pupils blown, her expression distant, as if she’s completely focused on what she’s doing.

Just the sight of her like that, completely abandoned to her own pleasure, is almost enough to make me lose control. I clench my thighs together and thrust harder, wanting to drive that much higher before I finally climax.

When she shudders around me—again—I can’t hold back any longer. Everything in me lets go in a powerful rush, and my vision goes black for a few seconds as the orgasm clutches me by the balls and I empty into her. She stills above me, her channel still pulsing on me, so tight, like a fist. We’re like that for a long time, just suspended, melded.

Then, finally, we come down on the wave. My hands move on her waist, opening and closing. There are vague red marks on her skin where I’ve held her so firmly in place.

“Cain,” she murmurs, shoving her hair back from her forehead.

“Yeah?”

Jess shakes her head. “Nothing. I just wanted to hear your name.”

Gently I draw her down to kiss her. We’re both slick with sweat, shivering off the last of our climaxes. Her hair falls into my face, and I sweep it back.

As she draws away, I look into her eyes. “You’re so beautiful.” Her breasts are swinging against my chest, and I glance down to see the full curves, the pink nipples. “And you’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

She makes a snorting noise—not very feminine, but quite expressive. “As if I could. And you…” Reaching down, she grabs me by the ears. “You’re mine. Don’t
you
forget
that
.”

“Never in a million years,” I answer, and draw her into my arms.

#

I hate to leave Jess in the morning, but I have to go talk to her father. It’s the usual doling out of funds after the fight, but I get the feeling there’s going to be more to it. For one, Spada called me last night, late, to remind me I needed to be there. He never does that.

When I show up at his house, he’s much more composed than he was outside the ring yesterday. He meets me at the door—another surprise, since he usually has one of his underlings handle door duty.

“Cain,” he says by way of greeting and shakes my hand firmly, looking right into my face. That’s new, too. It’s like he thinks I’m an actual human being all of a sudden instead of just a hired pair of fists. “Good to see you.”

I nod, not sure how to respond.

“Feeling okay after yesterday’s fight?”

I notice he doesn’t mention the fight after the fight. I don’t blame him. I don’t really want to revisit that scene either. “A little stiff here and there,” I concede. “Nothing major.”

“Good.”

He leads me back to his office. His goons are all there—minus Romano, of course. I get the feeling he has something to say to me. I don’t know what it is. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

I smooth my tie back—I’m wearing my best suit, because I know that’s what Spada expects—and take a seat at the table. The atmosphere in the room is relatively relaxed, for which I’m grateful. The tension that usually accompanies these get-togethers is normally enough to make a person choke on his own heartburn. Spada gives me a nod, and the other people in the room follow suit. If Spada had flung a knife at me, the rest of them undoubtedly would have done the same.

No knives today though. Today is all about more pleasant things, it appears. Spada has taken a wad of cash from his jacket pocket and is thumbing through the bills.

“Nick,” he says, and passes some bills to the man in question. Nick counts it and puts it in his pocket. Spada gives him a look as if he’s not too happy about the counting, but he says nothing to Nick. “Frank,” he goes on, and then calls out Chris and Leo. They’re all given varying amounts—Frank gets a good-sized chunk, while Leo doesn’t get much at all. It’s all based on who did what for this fight and what percentages were agreed upon ahead of time. As I recall, Frank was odd man out last time, so Leo must have taken his role this time to make the payments even out.

There’s still a good-sized wad of bills in Spada’s hand when he finishes. He turns his attention to me. “You get your usual, Cain,” he says, and hands me my pile. Then he sorts out a few more bills and holds them out. “And this.”

I give the money a suspicious look, as if it’s going to explode in his hand or something. “What’s that for?”