Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,247

into her and, the bed shakes beneath us.

It’s been three days since I been able to feel the warmth of her cunt wrapped around my dick. Not that she hasn’t wanted me, her anger seems to only intensify her desire. I stare into her eyes, and she stares back at me with the same fierceness. In this moment I don’t know who owns who.

She so close, I can see it on her face, but she’s yet to ask permission.

“Are you trying to cum before I allow you to?” I pull away from her, pulling out of her warmth and leaving her on the edge of her pleasure. I would have gladly given it to her, had only she asked. She breathes heavily, her blue eyes swirling with defiance.

The room fills with the sounds of our heavy breathing.

Hate fuck. Makeup sex. I’m not sure what this is, but I’m hopeful that once it’s over, she’ll forgive me. I want her to look at me the way she used to.

I crawled up her body, my hard dick wet with her arousal pressing into her hip. Her expression softens, as I gentle my hands at her hip. She doesn’t know what to think as I kiss up between her breasts along her collarbone and up her neck.

“You only need to ask me,” I stare at her lips, wishing I could kiss her like I used to. My eyes dart to hers, and I feel this familiarity of what used to be between us. I take a chance, pressing my lips to hers.

She kisses me back before breaking the kiss and asking, “please sir.” There’s hesitation in her voice before she adds, “I miss you.”

There’s no trace of anger on her face. Only sadness. I’m not sure if this will last. But at least I have my flower for a moment.

Chapter 24

Joesph

The marks in the Journal are smooth, as the pen glides against the paper. The pages are worn and old at this point and nearly come to the end. It’s fitting, seeing as how I’ve come to the final scene between myself and my father.

The Romanos were easy to gun down. They didn’t even see it coming. My father took the entire crew. 18 men. The first four littered the front of the restaurant with bullets. I remember how the glass broke. Shattering onto the ground in splintered pieces. I stood in the background, my father to my right, my brother to my left. The screams and gunshots rang out clearly. Blood flooded the streets that night, on both sides, although heavy in the Romanos. Their wives were with them. Their children were with them. Their deaths were quick. With a gun in each hand I walked up with my father, the glass crunching beneath my boots.

I shot a bullet in the head of each of them from my guns. Evidence. I continued shooting until they were both empty. Part of me hoped that my father was going to put a bullet in the back of my head. Every bullet that went off, I expected it. I was meant to take the fall. And I didn’t think that required me being alive at the end of this.

My father gave me a look with a hint of fear when he told me not to mention a single name. I already knew not to. What’s more memorable than seeing fear for the first time in my father’s eyes, was the cold look of my brother’s face. I saw jealousy there. My father was willing to trust me with this task. A son who he knew never loved him. And my brother hated me for it.

Even if I was going to go away for life. He didn’t like that I got any approval from our father or any respect from the men of the familia. But I didn’t agree to do it for either of those reasons.

I never uttered a word. I was ready to take the blame and get the death penalty or jail for life; I didn’t care which. I deserve to be punished for my sins. All of them. But the cops let me go, they followed me, they waited. They were pissed I wouldn’t talk and they anticipated that letting me out with send up red flags to everyone on the streets.

They thought mi familia would come for me. They thought the target they put on my back would have me running back to talk and give them the information they wanted