Page 43 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
“Do you want to stop?”
“I think this is a bad idea.”
“I think it isn’t.” He shifted, so his body hovered above mine, our faces separated by a short breath. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me. But if you do, I’ll chase away the pain. I promise, Knight.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t feel like a knight right now.” I felt like a pawn on Maman’s chess board, incapable of bold moves. The weakest link.
How could Damian see my pain? I couldn’t even pinpoint it. It was losing Vincent and the ghost of losing Damian all at once. It was also confronting the idea that the past ten years of my life had been a mistake.
I’d pushed Vincent and Damian away. I could never get Vincent back, but now I had an opportunity to have Damian for the night. I’d be stupid not to take it.
I met his stare. “You’ll be gone when I wake up?”
He didn’t answer me.
“Damian…”
He pressed his forehead against mine. “Yes.”
His answer hurt me as much as it helped me. Anticipation sprinted laps around my body. He climbed over me. I hooked my leg around his lower back, and he ground into my body until I wanted to tear our clothes off.
Our mouths met—anger, frustration, and lust meeting with each clash of our tongues. He sucked the tip of my tongue into his mouth. I stroked the roof of his mouth. Once. Twice. The third time, he lowered me from the headboard, pushed me onto my back, and climbed completely over me.
His hands dipped under my shirt. He slid them up, lifting the shirt with his movements until both palms cupped my breasts. I arched into him as he pinched my nipples. His lips left mine, and he buried his face in my neck and nipped at the skin, stroked it with his tongue, and sucked.
It felt so good, I could have cried. I’d missed his touch. Craved it in ways I hadn’t realized. The tear slipped out before I could stop it. I didn’t cry. That wasn’t me. Never. But another tear greeted the last, and I was helpless to stop it. I had never had a real family. Didn’t know what the word meant, let alone what it felt like.
I saw Maman part-time, and Papà might as well have been someone else’s father for all I saw him. This world had somehow spit me out and made me different than everyone else. All the other syndicate families, at one point or another, had a family dynamic. Camaraderie. Loyalty. Honor.
Except Damian’s. It explained why my soul reached for his. We were kindred spirits, and I’d lost him. After tonight, I’d lose him again. A final tear slipped out, and I swiped it away quickly before he could see it.
A moment later, he must have felt the tension in my body because he stopped and pulled back to look at me.
I didn’t want him to leave but couldn’t bring myself to ask him to stay. “You’ll be gone when I wake up, right?”
He placed my head in the crook of his neck, and while I didn’t shed the tears I wanted to shed, I let him hold me.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be gone.”
You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don’t trust enough.
Frank Grane
Renata laid pressed against my side, snoring every now and then. She squeezed the arm wrapped around me, and I didn’t dare move. The night hadn’t gone as planned. I was supposed to slip inside her. I was supposed to remind her why we fit so well. I was supposed to make her beg, plead, scream out her orgasm, and beg me for another five.
I didn’t even kiss her.
I had a long flight back to Texas and a full day of meetings. I should have closed my eyes and gotten some sleep. Inst
ead, I spent the night with Ren as long as it would last, our limbs a twisted, chaotic knot I didn’t want to untangle. Then, I begged the sun to retreat so I could have another hour. It didn’t listen. If anything, it rose faster. Still, last night was the best night I’d had all decade, and I needed another one like it was a basic necessity.
This was real.
What Ren and I had was real.
I was many things, but I wasn’t delusional.
This. Was. Fucking. Real.
