Emme was his undoing. She unraveled him every time. She cupped his sac, jiggled, her fingers dancing over him, even as her mouth and tongue branded his shaft with fire. It was the way she gave his cock such attention. Every little detail that stole his breath, made his lungs burn for air. Watching her brought him to his knees figuratively or literally at times. She paid complete attention to his every signal. Worshiped him. Loved him. Swallowed him whole. Lavished such utter devotion on him.
She never seemed to think of herself or what she would get in return. When she took his cock in her mouth like this, she was all about Valentino. About making him feel good. More than that. Sending him to paradise. Shooting rockets to outer space. Hell, he didn’t know, only that the expression on her face, in her eyes, the way her lips stretched around the wide girth of his cock, added to the fantasy she gave him that sent him to another planet.
Emmanuelle spent time on his body, and when she was through with him, he couldn’t move or think for far too long. He could only lie there, his heart beating like a fierce drum, while she lay with her head in his lap, her arms wrapped around his hips and her hair everywhere. So much silk over his cock and balls, tangling there, on his thighs, along his legs. It should have made him crazy; instead, he fell asleep again, one hand burrowing deep into all that hair, holding her to him as if she might escape him while he slept.
How are we going to find where the children are, Valentino?” Emme asked. “Tommaso didn’t tell us.”
“Dario got it out of Marge.”
He couldn’t help the drop in his voice. The grimness. Dario had worked on the bitch for two days. Two nights. He’d been relentless. Merciless. He knew exactly how much blood a body could lose before they would die, and he didn’t allow that to happen. By turns he was cruel and harsh and then he’d switch, attending to her needs, giving concessions, giving hope.
Dario was good at making a woman believe anything he wanted her to believe, especially when she was in pain. Val wasn’t going to tell Emmanuelle that. Marge had been completely broken, telling Dario everything she knew and then some before she begged for death. She’d begged a long time before she got her wish. Val wasn’t going to tell Emme that, either. There were things about Dario that were his to share, and maybe someday he’d get to the point that he would with Emmanuelle, but until then, Valentino felt it was necessary to keep some things to himself.
Emme spun around, nearly tripping as she pulled the pinstriped trousers up her legs and over her hips. The material molded to her curves, making his heart contract and the blood rush through his veins. Her hair was still damp from the shower, but now braided tight in preparation for their task ahead. “Does Stefano know?”
“Of course. I would never leave him out. We’re partners in this. He’s been a man of his word and then some. Why would you think I wouldn’t tell him?”
“Valentino.” She nearly wailed his name. A clear reprimand. “You didn’t tell me. I’m your partner. You’re supposed to tell me before you tell anyone else.”
He couldn’t help the smirk. She stood right in front of him, barefoot. Those sexy trousers molding to her perfect body, showing off the curve of her hips and that perfect ass. Her tits jutting out toward him invitingly, nipples hard and tight. He was a breast man, and she had them. The perfect rack. That sexy hair. That sinful mouth.
“I’m very serious, Val.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but he could see the goose bumps rising on her skin. The heat. If he stepped close to her and opened that pinstriped suit, there was no doubt in his mind, if he swiped his finger between her bare lips, he’d find her slick. The taste of her was in his mouth just like that. Just thinking about her.
“It’s a little difficult to be serious when you’re standing there looking sexy as sin, baby. Just thinking about you going into battle with nothing under that suit makes me hard as a fucking rock. I can’t hear your lectures if you don’t cover up, so put your jacket on and start again, for me. I’ll try harder to concentrate.”
He ran the pads of his fingers very gently over the swell of her breasts. Those sweet curves. Her nipples. He couldn’t resist holding the weight in his palms and leaning down to taste the soft flesh in the heat of his mouth.
“I thought we were already late.”
She cradled his head to her, hands in his hair. Not once did she try to pull away. She was right: they were late. They needed the early morning hours to set up their attack on Angelo and Miceli and retrieve the children before Angelo could ship them out of Valentino’s reach.