Lucien (The Marchesi Family 1)

Peter drove back, trying to take me deeper, so I tightened my hold on his hips. “I’m controlling this.”

“Please.”

I didn’t know if he was asking for more or asking me to let go. I doubted he knew either, but I eased further inside, pulled back, then gave him all of me.

“Fuck,” he cried. “It burns.”

I kissed the back of his neck. “You’re a good boy, taking all my cock. I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to love it.”

He squirmed, trying to flex his hips as I gave him several long, slow thrusts. Then I let go so he could move like he wanted to. I didn’t hold back either. I slammed into him, and he worked his hips to meet every stroke.

“Please, Lucien. Need to come. Please.”

I took hold of his hips again, angling him so I’d be better able to drag across his sweet spot on every stroke. He keened when I hit him just right, and I reached for his cock again. “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Lucien. You.”

“That’s right. Now come for me.” I stroked his cock as hard and fast as I was fucking him. “Show me how much you need this.”

“Lucien!” he arched his back deeply. His ass squeezed my cock so hard it hurt as he drove himself through the circle of my fingers and came. I meant to keep going, to see if I could push him to come a second time, but as his beautiful body writhed under me and his inner muscles milked my cock, I couldn’t hold back.

“Mine, Peter. You’re mine,” I roared as I let go and came, buried deep inside him.

Peter’s legs slid out from under him, and we collapsed to the mattress. I wanted to simply fall asleep there with him, but we both needed dinner first. I kissed the back of his neck and pulled out, making him wince.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yeah, but… wow. I’m going to feel that tomorrow.”

“And that means you’ll be thinking of me all day, just like I want you too.”

He made a contented sound that had my cock trying to perk up again. “Are you hungry?”

“Mmmhmm.”

Jesus, he was blissed out. I fucking loved it. “I’ll get us some dinner.”

I rose from the bed, discarded the condom in the bathroom trash, and opened the closet door. Peter rolled over and looked at me. “What are you doing?”

I grabbed the navy silk robe that hung on a peg just inside the door. It was tight across the shoulders, since it had been purchased for Peter, but it reached around me enough to make me semi-decent. That was all I cared about. Rather than answer him, I scooped Peter up in my arms. He made an adorable surprised squawk.

“We’re going to my room. I want you with me tonight.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’ll have Lola bring it to us there.”

“But I’m naked. What if someone sees us?”

He clung to my neck as I grabbed a blanket from the bench at the end of the bed and tossed it over him. “There. You’re decent now.”

When we’d finished with dinner, I noticed Peter watching me, curiosity in his eyes. “Go ahead and ask your question. I won’t promise to answer, but you can ask me anything.”

Peter’s cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink. “I don’t even know where to begin. I want to know more about you, about your family, about what you actually do.”

“Most of what I do would scare the fuck out of you—even if it wasn’t dangerous to let you know too much—but I do have one project I can tell you about.”

“What is it?” His eager expression made me want him again, but there would be time for that later.

“Come sit on my lap, and I’ll tell you.”

He slid across the sofa, and I pulled him into my arms. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt happier than I did, curled up with Peter, telling him all about my plans for DiGiulios, the food, the décor, the ambiance I was hoping to achieve. All my dreams for the place that would be mine, not my father’s, not a front for crime, just a fucking amazing restaurant.

11

Peter

I never expected Lucien to want me in his bed all night. I’d assumed that once he was done fucking me, he’d expect me to sleep in my own room. But not only had he wanted me with him, he’d held me and just talked to me, telling me about his restaurant. I could hear the excitement in his voice as he described it. He didn’t sound like a cold, hard, mobster; he sounded like a man filled with passion. When I’d started to doze, he’d carried me to bed and held me against him as I’d fallen asleep. Despite the numerous times my brain tried to remind me how much danger I was in and how crazy I was to have chosen to stay, I slept more soundly in Lucien’s arms than I had in a long time.