5: In Which She Comes (Out) on Top

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@Jenice_Fenty made this particular fan art/book cover =) Thanks again, love! ==>

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He was a man.

No matter how arrogant or timid, dangerous or docile they were, men thought about sex more than they thought about more pressing issues – like veiled threats about taking someone’s child away.

Carlo certainly wasn’t any different.

“Slow down,” I breathed, after having the wind knocked out of me when he pushed me up against one ceramic wall. “Weren’t you just shot an hour ago?”

Carlo cast a dismissive look at his bandaged arm. “I’ll live.” His eyes roamed over me. “But you should know that I’m not lenient with my attempted murderers and there have been many.”

I couldn’t be sure if he was teasing or not. “Are you threatening me? Because I’ll –”

“You’ll what?” He leaned in and blew his hot breath against the sensitive skin of my neck. “Tell your brothers?” His tongue flickered out and traced one of the cords of my neck. “The cops?” I felt his teeth, gentle yet painful because of the sweet sensation they caused. “Your little girlfriends?” He bit down. I let out a helpless whimper.

“You can’t just waltz into my house whenever you feel like it,” I said softly, shuddering when his hand slid up my T-shirt and forgetting the rest of what was going to be a passionate tirade.

“I think, cara,” he murmured into my neck, “that you’ll find that I can do whatever the hell I please.” He reared back, tugging my top off with one hand.

I wasn’t wearing any underwear. After my shower before bed, I’d just thrown on a shirt because of the slight rise in temperature. Now it just looked like an invitation, something I was banking on.

“There is something I have to ask – something I should have asked the moment we had sex the first time,” Carlo was saying, his eyes decidedly settling on my breasts. “Are you taking any contraceptives?”

“Of course I am,” I snapped indignantly, the trance broken. “What sort of idiot do you take me for? Do you honestly think I’d –”

He covered my mouth with his hand, wincing slightly from the pain he most likely experienced to lift his bandaged arm. His free hand cupped my breast, the pad of his thumb over my nipple, and both my breasts suddenly felt like the heaviest of boulders.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he whispered, “because I am. Christo, Danielle! I have never been so careless when it came to protection. Never.”

You and me both, I thought to myself.

“Are we just going to talk?” I said aloud, letting my fingers trace the contours of his ruined chest.

He trembled from my touch, his top lip curling. “Di niente. We’re not going to talk.”

I looped my arms around his neck and he leaned in to kiss me. Carlo Donafrio might have been a shady miscreant but he certainly knew how to make a woman overly excited with that tongue of his. Grabbing the back of my head with one hand, he pressed himself against me and I winched myself up his powerful frame and wrapped my legs around his waist.

He whirled me around, not breaking our kiss, and pointed me in the direction of the bathtub. I was vaguely aware of his stepping into the empty tub and then I hopped off, giving him a searching look.

“The bathtub, Carlo? Really?” I reached for him and unzipped the fly of his pants, which he wordlessly shucked and flung onto the linoleum floor. He was wearing silk boxers and they masked an impressive erection. It was still extremely fascinating to know that I was responsible for his arousal. Me, with my stretch marks and close-to-dangling tits.

“The shower’s overrated,” he explained, lowering himself down and leaning back, daring me to join him. My pússy was now eye-level to him and it throbbed in anticipation. I obliged.

Carlo inhaled sharply when I tentatively eased his c0ck out. “Merda,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fúck me, Dani Clarke. Fúck me.”

If anyone had told me that Carlo Donafrio would be in my empty bathtub at two in the morning groaning for me to “fúck him”, I would’ve checked that person into the nearest mental facility. As it was, I was turned on beyond possible belief and everything in my head that said this was so, so wrong simply withered away and became nothing.

I wanted him and I didn’t care how.

There was no need for foreplay. I’d been more than ready for him since he’d ripped off his shirt to let me clean his wound. Without breaking eye contact, I reached behind me and turned on the hot and cold water taps. Carlo’s eyes never left mine – until I spread my legs, hanging one over one side of the tub. The sight of his eyes on my pússy was making me wetter by the second. I wanted to be dirty – forget the consequences, forget the situation – but I also wanted to make him forget.

Forget about ever trying to take my son away from me.

I flipped the taps off. “Touch me.” My voice was breathless, hungry.

Carlo’s eyes had darkened with desire to something close to coal-black. He reached out for me. “Come here, mia strega.”

“What does that mean?”

His eyes were glazed as he murmured, “Witch. You have bewitched me, Dani mia.”

Dazed with need, I moved to sit astride him without lowering myself onto his c0ck. Angling my head, I leaned in and placed a light kiss on the side of his neck. My tongue flickered out and I slid it down his neck and onto his collarbone.

“Stop,” he grunted.

“Imagine that this is your c0ck,” I hissed, and sucked on a bit of flesh, nibbling on his spicy skin.

Carlo’s hands came around me as I moved to lick one of his caramel-coloured nipples. They were hard and for some reason, that just did it for me. And him.

He thrust upwards and our bodies were perfectly joined. I sat still for a few minutes, just enjoying the feel of him inside me, and then it became agonising.

Slowly, I began to move my hips while Carlo threw his head back and released the softest of groans. He was exercising self-control while I took control and to me, that was both generous and astonishing. Leaning forward and raising my arse up and down, I felt his manhood slide even deeper inside me, hitting my inner walls. Carlo filled me up entirely and I could already tell that my orgasm was going to be sensational, was going to destroy me.

“Dio mio,” he groaned, his fingers leaving dents in my backside. “You will be the death of me, cara mia.”

I placed my head on his chest, the thump of his racing heartbeat vibrating against my forehead. Mouth pressed to his chest now, I moaned freely, not wanting to make any noise that might awaken Mickey.

Carlo’s hands were now firmly cinched on my thighs, gripping them tightly as I rode him with abandon. I was becoming frantic, trying to reach the end result of this game – the big O.

He raised his hips, easing into my rhythm as he thrust into me. I squeezed my legs together, contracting my inner walls and tightening myself around him. Carlo’s sounds of pleasure weren’t as easy to muffle as mine. I was going to explode anytime soon.

“I’m going to...” I gasped, trailing off.

“I know.” He picked up the pace, even as I threw my head back and came, my juices flowing from the floodgates themselves.

When he eventually climaxed, I finally understood the meaning of the phrase “having the life squeezed out of you”. If he really wanted, Carlo could snap my neck between his thumb and index finger, so it wasn’t a surprise that when he came, the sheer force of his ejaculation was enough to tear a scream from me.

“Did I hurt you?” he breathed when it was over and all I could manage was a soft sigh of contentment as I collapsed onto him.

“No,” I lied.

He kissed my forehead. “You are a bad liar and I am sorry.”

***

I was alone in my bedroom when I woke up.

No Mickey.

No Carlo.

He stayed the night?  I thought hysterically, mentally slapping myself as I kicked the tangle of sheets off and grabbed my nightgown. His scent filled the room, as did the smell of heated sex. Carlo Donafrio spent the night in my bed?

Fear spidered up my spine. Yes, Mickey’s crib was empty and yes, the faint impression on the right side of my bed told me that Carlo had definitely spent the night.

And now they were both gone.

“Don’t panic, Dani,” I told myself, panicking. How stupid could I have been to trust him? For what, really mind-blowing sex? Was that all it took to buy my only child?

I practically flew down the stairs, biting my bottom lip as I frantically dashed outside to see if I could find any clues – like Mickey’s favourite toy, a gift from Charlie, which could’ve dropped as Carlo had rushed him to his car and sped off to a place where he was immensely powerful and I was a nobody with no rights.

Jumping to conclusions, aren’t we, Dani?

True. They could’ve walked.

But Carlo’s BMW was still parked in my driveway.

Turning on my heel, I went back inside – and heard familiar gurgling coming from the kitchen.

“Mickey?” I whispered as I approached the doorway of the kitchen.

With a sigh of relief, I saw that he was sitting on the floor at Carlo’s feet in a fresh playsuit, playing with his teddy bear. I couldn’t say I was relieved to find a topless Carlo at my stove, his back to me.

“I hope your mother likes her eggs scrambled, figlio mio,” he was saying, and the smell of eggs finally wafted into my nostrils, eliciting a rumble from my stomach.

Mickey babbled some sort of response as if they were having an actual conversation and he was giving his very valued opinion.

Carlo looked down at him. “What was that, caro? You think she’ll find some reason to throw it in my face?” he asked. “Smart boy. I bet your mother – who is rudely eavesdropping as we speak – is already planning a way to kick me out.”

I felt heat stain my cheeks as I shuffled into the kitchen. “Eavesdropping? This is my house. I can’t be accused of eavesdropping in my house.”

“Right,” he said dismissively, turning back to the pan on the stove. “Sit.”

“I had no idea you were so domesticated,” I commented dryly, glancing at the plates on the table. “Did they teach Home Economics after Drug Trafficking 101 at your school?”

He spun around, murder in his emerald eyes. In that moment, he looked several shades of dangerous. “Don’t talk about things you can’t even possibly begin to understand!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me in my own bloody house!” I countered.

“I will speak to you however I want to when you disrespect me with your wild, idiotic accusations.”

“Don’t even pretend to be a saint, Carlo,” I snapped. “You and I both know –”

“You know nothing!”

My eyes swivelled down to Mickey, whose eyes were agog with childlike bewilderment. I gave him a small smile and shut up before locking eyes with Carlo.

If looks could kill, I’d have R.I.P. on my forehead.

“You’re scaring him,” I said softly, and his eyes went to Mickey as well.

“Caro,” said Mickey, raising his arms in a bid to be picked up.

“Not again,” I muttered, watching as Carlo bent to scoop up my son. “Did you teach him that word?”

“What? Caro?” he asked, settling Mickey somewhere on his hip.

“Yes, that word.”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

Mickey was tugging at a lock of Carlo’s curly, jet-black hair and he was paying him no mind. In that moment, I knew that he did love my son – or, at least had a soft spot for him. I had nothing to fear where Mickey was concerned. It was only my life I had to worry about.

Thank God for small mercies.

“Ssh,” he hissed, cocking his head to one side. “Did you hear that?”

I listened. “Hear what?”

He thrust Mickey at me. “What did I tell you about getting new locks?”

“What are you talking about?” I held Mickey to me.

Carlo’s eyes implored me. “Take him and go upstairs. Lock yourselves in the spare room and don’t come out until I tell you to.”

“What the hell are you on about?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not one bit.”

He scowled, a tic in his jaw. “Trust me just this once. Get upstairs.”

I gave him a puzzled look but turned on my heel and went upstairs, doing exactly as he’d told me. Mickey was becoming restless, though, and I was going out of my mind not knowing what the hell was going on. I let him crawl about while I went to the window and peeked outside.

A black SUV was conspicuously parked outside my gate.

Seconds later, I heard the gunshots.