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I don’t know Nico well. Hell, I don’t know Nico at all.
But he looks serious. And I know he’s open to using violence…. The idea should be appalling, but a tell-tale heat pools between my thighs as I shift beneath the weight of their gazes. He doesn’t scare me, neither of them does, not in the way they should.
Spank the words out of me? Why is that so hot when he says it?
A little thrill runs down my spine at the thought of letting them do just that.
Spank me.
Take me again.
Use me.
But I keep those thoughts all to myself.
It can never happen again.
“Good girl,” Nico says, a smirk spreading across his face. “Now do us all a favor, and keep your mouth shut.” He taps Enzo on the shoulder and gestures for him to follow. “We’ll give you some time to adjust, Angel. But let me make something very clear.” He pauses in the doorway, his height filling the frame. “Just because our parents decided to get married, doesn’t mean that we’re done with you. I waited for weeks for a text from you and now the universe has brought you to my door and I’ll be damned if I let you go again.”
I can’t tell if that’s a promise or a threat, but either way – my core clenches again.
Shit. I’m in over my head.
8
Enzo
For all the chaos that exists in my life, some things are blissfully routine.
Family dinner is always on Friday. Mass is always on Sunday. This week, we woke up early because it’s our first Mass as a new family.
Albert insisted that we all attend together and that we attend the early service so we can see and be seen by the right people. For Albert, Mass is less about worship and more about being perceived in the right light. And a reminder to all that there’s no place he can’t reach.
Does everyone know that he’s the Don? Of course.
Do they know he has blood on his hands? Obviously.
But when he shows up to Mass with his pretty new wife, his dutiful sons, and his new daughter – he’s not a crime boss. He’s a family man. He is one of the community, ready to make amends for his sins. All while maintaining a stranglehold on pious men to protect ourselves from the justice of others, of course.
I pull at the collar of my button up shirt and carefully tuck the gold crucifix around my neck under my shirt.
I don’t enjoy church services. I didn’t grow up Catholic the way Nico did. There were no politics to protect in my upbringing. Learning when to sit and when to stand was a chore. Paying attention to Father John has been a whole hell of a lot harder for me than it’s been for Nico.
Until today.
I shift against the pew, letting my thighs spread apart, pushing against Christina, enjoying the spark that runs straight to my dick when our bodies touch. She’s so fucking perfect. And today’s service is going to be much more interesting with my sweet little princess seated next to me.
Nico must have the same thought. I see him smirking out of the corner of my eye. He sits on the other side of Christina, his knee bumping into hers.
She’s right where she belongs.
As if reading our thoughts, she adjusts the hem of her dress to sit lower on her legs, and tries her best to make herself smaller so neither of us is touching her. It only makes me want her more.
In the week since Christina has moved in with us, she has desperately tried to avoid us. It’s actually kind of hilarious.
When she sees us, she literally goes the other way. Nico and I have talked about slipping a tracker in her shoes and just popping out at her periodically to scare her.
I don’t mind that my princess wants to play hard to get. I enjoy the chase. Especially chasing something as pretty and perfect as her.
