Alessandro DeLuca

“Come. Join me,” he invites.

I step inside the shower with him, and the water is hotter than I expected. I want him to adjust it, but I don’t complain.

Alessandro rests his hands on my hips. “I command honesty of those around me, Mila. I cannot tolerate liars.”

Laughing nervously, I reply, “I don’t like liars either, Ales.”

His lips cover mine, and he tastes them slowly and carefully. I open my mouth to him, licking inside of his mouth and sucking on his tongue. The water plasters my hair against my head as he lowers himself to his knees.

Parting my legs for him, I place one over his shoulder as he presses his mouth to my labia. Alessandro greedily sucks and licks my labia, his thumb rubbing my clitoris in a circular motion.

I don’t know why he made the statement that he did. I forget all about it as my hips roll, and I get lost in the exquisite pleasure his tongue brings as my eyes roll to the back of my head. Every muscle in my body tightens as I grip his head, pressing myself into his mouth.

Alessandro’s large hands knead my ass as he pulls it apart and then releases it, only to do it all over again. I desperately try to stay grounded at the moment, forcing my thoughts to think of every entrance into his home.

I know that he has every window, door, and other entryway secured and locked down like Fort Knox. I have yet to see his security system. Finding it has to be a priority to learn how to unarm it.

I’d hate to be trapped in here if I have to escape. Escaping the home is one thing but escaping the grounds is an entirely different adventure with men posted at the gates and in other locations on the several acres.

The only useful thing I’ve learned is that he sleeps with a gun under his pillow and another under his mattress.

Last night, after he dismissed his staff for the evening, we returned to the kitchen for a late-night snack. I opened the oven, checking out his appliances because I’m a great cook, and he has high-end industrial appliances. I was surprised to find a Sig Sauer in the oven.

Alessandro snatched my arm and pulled me away from the stove so quickly that my head began to hurt.

“The hell’re you doing?” he growled.

“Checking out your stove! I love to cook, and you’ve got nice appliances,” I replied, frowning at him.

He stared at me for several long seconds, both our chests heaving.

“Thanks.”

“But why the hell is there a gun in your oven?”

“Why do you think, Mila?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about ma—”

“Family. Family life,” he said, still scowling at me. “There’s a lot you have to learn, and trust is the most important. You gotta trust me, Mila, even when you don’t understand. Enemies are always around me, always watching and waiting for their opportunity. They don’t give a fuck, whether it’s family or me. They just want to take me out. The second is loyalty. No matter if you’re ever under pressure, even if your fucking life depends on it, you’ve gotta remain fucking loyal to me. But I’ll never leave you unprotected. You’ll always have someone in the shadows waiting to have your back, watching to see if a muthafucka is trying to take you down. And third…well, third, there’s street smarts. Don’t trust no-fucking-body, don’t listen to anybody, and suspect every fucking body! Got it?”

“Ales, I can’t live like this. It’s too much for me.”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d protect you?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “But…it’s not just that. It’s knowing that you all are responsible for killing kids.”

His fists balled at his sides, and his nostrils flared. “I haven’t killed any kids!” he growled before stalking off.

My mind goes back to that conversation, and something stands out to me now. There was a niggling feeling during the discussion last night, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Now I know what it was.

He is insistent that he didn’t kill kids or wasn’t responsible for their deaths. At first, I thought he was saying that because he didn’t do it directly, but something tells me it’s much deeper. Yet, I don’t know what he’s trying to say, and I’m afraid to come right out and ask without arousing his suspicion.

These are some dangerous people I’ve become involved with, and I have to tread carefully. Now might be a good time to ask the questions that I need to ask about the men who destroyed my family, but Alessandro is determined to pull every thought from my brain as his tongue puts in overtime work on my pussy. I clench all around his head, releasing onto his tongue.

He stands and grabs body wash and pours it into his hands. He begins to wash me, and I broach the subject cautiously.

“Ales,” I say as his hands slide across my breasts.