Page 49 of Twisted Throne

His eyes were amused and he gave me that infuriating half smile that made me want to punch him.

“And you really expect me to believe that that’s the only reason you came in here? To my bed?”

“I can do things for more than just one reason. Are you telling me that you’re sorry I came in?”

“No! I’m not sorry, I just… you started to…” I couldn’t get the words to come out right and I could feel the heat rise to my face. “I just thought that we’d…”

“Ah, I see. So if we can’t fuck you don’t want to see me, is that it?”

“No! That’s not what I meant!” I snapped at him.

“If you say so,” he tossed over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

I threw myself backward onto the bed, hands over my face and body aching for his touch.

Well, you know what, who needs him anyway?

I lay back in the bed, sinking into the fluffy, down pillows. The thin sheet was still pulled up to my waist and I closed my eyes as I let my right hand drift down my body, under the sheet and between my legs.

The heat between my legs hadn’t faded and I moaned softly, my index finger circling my still- swollen clit.

My left hand reached up to grab a hold of the intricate, wrought iron bed frame. The cool metal seared into my flushed skin. I let my fingers dip down, sliding between my slick folds and teasing their way in and out of the entrance to my throbbing pussy.

I thought of Paul on top of me, his rough fingers inside me. My hips thrust up and I slid my fingers back and forth across my pulsing clit. I gripped the headboard tightly, my thighs clenched together.

“Paul!” I cried out into my pillow as the orgasm rocked throughout my body.

My back arched and I pressed my fingers against myself, muffling my cries against my free hand.

I lay quiet for a few minutes as my pleasure ebbed and I caught my breath. Slowly, I relaxed my grip on my headboard and relaxed into the mattress with a soft sigh. While I had somewhat quenched the desire within me, it was no substitute for Paul’s touch upon my body, and I was still left feeling empty and needy.

Chapter Twenty-One

Paul

It took every ounce of willpower I had in my body to get up and walk out of Gia’s bedroom. The sounds she made, the feel of my hands upon her, her smell, the way the first rays of sunlight shone across her skin, I wanted it all. Ihadn’tcome to her bed to talk business. I’d meant to reassure her and get back to business, with every intention of celebrating my safe return in a more leisurely manner this afternoon. But fuck, I just couldn’t leave her alone when she was all warm and sleepy and trusting like that.

Until I forced myself to remember the other matters I needed to deal with now.

Alec.

It was time to deal with him, once and for all.

I went down the stairs, and the sound of my footsteps echoed through the empty halls. Not many stirred at this early hour. I appreciated being able to take a moment during the quiet to collect myself. No more silky skin, no more little moans, no more thorny questions. Not now. I needed to focus on the business at hand.

I didn’t bother knocking before I entered Angelo’s office, I knew he wasn’t there. I shut the door behind me and walked across the plush carpet to one of the many bookshelves that lined the walls beside his desk.

Once I pushed the secret button, hidden behind a collection of John D. MacDonald paperbacks, the shelf swung open, leading to one of the several hidden passageways inside the house. The door closed behind me, and I followed the narrow passage for about fifteen feet until I reached the staircase that led down to a section of the basement that was not accessible from the main area of the home.

I squinted against the harsh, fluorescent lights buzzing above my head as I entered the room. Compared to the dim lights of the passageway it felt like I was staring directly into the damn sun. The bright light showed a small room with a concrete floor and thick, cinder block walls. The air was stale and damp. Alec sat on a steel chair that was bolted to the floor in the center of the stark room. He wasn’t tied or cuffed to it though, and the only injury visible was a patch of hair, matted with dried blood where Carlos had clocked him over the head at the docks earlier.

“You’re late.” Angelo sat in a metal folding chair a few feet in front of Alec, a grim look on his face.

“My apologies, Angelo.” I bowed my head slightly.

He nodded his head, then turned back to study Alec.

Surely he can’t still have doubts.