Piers looked at his partner, Hila as she leaned in to him, frowning as she said in her throaty, accented voice, the voice that never failed to arouse him.
‘What’s with the caveman and his sidekick, Pretty Piers?”
The Mafia Boss turned slightly, her warm breath on his cheek as he looked into her eyes.
‘They have a …woman. Some freaky thing where they share a woman.”
He lifted his hand and clasped it around her throat, pulling her face closer, kissing her mouth, hard.
She parted her lips and they kissed, deeply, satisfying and she felt his erection as he stiffened and she shifted, her eyes dancing wickedly.
Hila gracefully slid onto his lap, pulling her slim-fitting trousers down, and tossing her leather jacket carelessly on the floor as she settled on his thick member. Sliding down, he marvelled at her wet pus*y as it clenched around his shaft.
Throwing her head back, she let out a moan and he held her waist, watching as she rode him, her breasts, small and pert, bobbing.
Then he was coming, shooting his thick seed into her and she raked her nails down his shoulders, kissing him forcefully.
He loved her, this woman who wanted to be in control, but who could also allow him to use her, roughly even, when he was in the mood.
Panting, spent. She frowned as she leant her face on his chest as she panted,
“They SHARE a girl?
Incredulity tinged her voice and Piers grinned.
“Yup, sweetheart,” he grunted and then, slapping her behind lightly, he growled,
“Let’s get going. The boys will be with Mumma but I want to get you in bed and f*ck you thoroughly.”
She looked up and held his gaze steadily.
‘I love you, Piers,” she said, steadily and he marvelled again at this woman. Her hard exterior hid her vulnerability.
She was the mother of his two sons, young Luc and the toddler, Benjamin. Hila was not mother material and had stated clearly that she did not want any more children. Luckily, they had Proserpina Delano, Piers’ still beautiful and enticing mother, who adored children. While Piers and Hila, along with the other Delano brothers, Louis and Paddy, took care of the mob, the children practically lived at their grandparents’ mansion.
Now he rose; he needed to put in a few calls for Liam O’Grady and his mistress’ missing sister.
Yawning, he reached for the phones on his table and got busy.
Bianca lay beside her sister. It was past midnight but she was sleepless. She knew that the men she loved would be looking for Anna. Her mother had not yet been informed; no one wanted a full-blown hysterical breakdown from Heather. Bianca had, however, decided to go and meet Heather at the institution she lived in, along with Beth.
She shut her eyes, and all she could do was think of her men, as she had begun to think of them now. It was nearing the time for her to pack and leave, she thought with a sigh. Soon she would be at university, which had been a dream for many years. But now, somehow, it had paled a little, the dream had lost some of its lustre…
Eyes still shut, she thought of them, of O’Grady …the way he stood, his feet apart, always in the fighters’ stance, her very own Alpha. She smiled, despite herself as the memories flooded back, like a soup of images bubbling away in a cauldron.
He walked into a room, and people automatically parted for him, like Moses as he walked into the Red Sea…
The broad shoulders, the light dancing off his blue-black hair, the colour of a raven’s feathers; the strong features, not regularly handsome, unlike his brother. But the commanding presence he exuded with such confidence.
And then, there was St Just. Handsome and cool. Unflappable. But a crackling bundle of expertise in bed, a man who could bring her to her knees with just a flick of his hands. The gentleman who was an uncompromising Master in bed.
Sighing, she turned and looked outside, at the pale streaks of dawn.
Her heart would break when she walked out of these doors when her sisters were back in school.
But …all good things have to end; she told herself as he swallowed the lump in her throat.
O’Grady was sleepless too. He paced in the room while St Just watched him, slouching on the couch.
The Irishman was barking orders at someone and when he returned to look at St Just, he looked exhausted. And still, so virile. Finn St Just rose and walked to his brother. “Get a few hours rest, bro,” he said quietly, placing his hand on his sibling’s shoulder.
You won’t be any use to her if you’re dead on your feet.”
O’Grady winked and grinned.
“Ah…Saint. I was thinking…let’s get hitched. ”
St Just’s jaw dropped.
“You serious, bro?” he asked, his voice reflecting his incredulity.
O’Grady nodded; his face solemn.
“Our Pet, I mean Bianca. …I think I love her…and so do you.”
St Just frowned.
“She’s young, bro. She needs to live …to choose…”
O’Grady’s face clouded in confusion.
“She can do all that when she’s ours, permanently, Saint. With a ring on her finger.”
The phone rang, forcing them to break off.
O’Grady whipped it up, his face intense and alive.
“Yeah?” he growled and then, he turned to his brother as he hurriedly stuffed his gun in his holster, preparing to leave;
“Let’s go, Saint. They got a hit on her. Delano’s man, his Underboss just called. He says she’s going to be transported to Europe by ship, along with a host of other girls.”