Alex’s hand snaps up out of nowhere, grabbing hold of me by the wrist and wrenching my hand up high over my head. His eyes open lazily, traveling up and down my face, his gaze finally settling on my mouth.
“You woke up feisty, dolcezza. Careful. I could get used to this.” In a split second, he shoves me onto my back, pulling me away from the cold wall so that my body is in the center of the bed and he holds himself directly above me. The arm I was lying on gets repositioned, my other hand joining my one already above my head, and Alex bears down, burying his face into my neck. Apparently, he has no aversion to using his teeth on areas of my body that my father will likely see.
“Alex! Alex!” I pant, wheezing the words out, squirming underneath the satisfyingly heavy press of his body, but I’m only making things worse. The more I writhe, the more fired up he’s going to get. No way will he leave me unmarked with me responding like this. Once upon a time, that thought would have scared the ever-loving shit out of me. Pinned to a mattress, hands locked over my head, restrained, with nowhere to go and no way of getting out? My body would have forced me to bolt and run, as memories of Jacob Weaving’s leering face assaulted me from all angles.
But Alex isn’t Jake. He’s nothing like any of the sick, twisted, evil fucks who trapped me in that bathroom. One word from me—stop—and he’ll stop. He’ll be on the other side of the room before I can even register that he’s let me go. I participate in this kind of roughhousing with Alex, because I know without question that he’d never do anything to hurt me.
“I wanna fucking eat you,” he huffs into my hair. “I want to devour every last piece of you. You taste like fucking sugar. I can’t get enough...”
Gasping for air, I bow away from the bed, crushing my tits against his chest, willing for him to take more of me. The thin material of the shirt he let me sleep in last night rubs against my nipples, causing them to stiffen painfully, and my imagination runs away with me. I’m picturing him licking and sucking at the tight, pink buds of flesh. I can already see the white flash of his teeth as he takes them into his mouth one at a time and bites down until I cry out his name.
Alex pulls back, chuckling darkly as he hovers over me. “You wanna get fucked, don’t you, Silver Parisi.” Not really a question. He knows it’s the truth just as much as I do. His grey sweats are riding low, exposing his hip bones and the beginnings of the maddening vee that dips down lower, between his legs. The sight of the tensed muscles in his chest and stomach is the final straw; a girl can only take so much provocation before she outright loses her mind. I place my feet flat against the mattress, bending my knees, and I grip him between my thighs, squeezing tight, silently begging him to tear my shorts off and plunge himself inside me already.
A jolt of pain lances through my side, my still-broken ribs complaining bitterly about all of the movement, but the discomfort doesn’t compare to the promise of the pleasure that’s just around the corner.
The bruises still blooming all over my body like morbid flowers are a grim, ugly reminder of recent trauma, but it’s as though Alex doesn’t even see them. He stares down at me, wide-eyed and wonderous, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Sitting back on his heels, he straddles me, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of my shorts, almost giving me what I so badly need. His erection tents the material of his sweats, perfectly outlining the head of his dick, and I reach down, about to close my hand around him, and—
DUM! DUM! DUM!
Three loud bangs echo through the apartment, bouncing off the walls. Alex’s head whips around, looking back over his shoulder, frowning deeply at the interruption. “Seven am, Christmas morning? You sure your dad was cool with you crashing here?”
I nod, need still pulsing around my nervous system, waiting for his hands to return to the waistband of my shorts. “You were there when I asked him.”
Alex grunts. “Then whoever that is can fuck right off.”
Normally, I’d be the voice of reason. It’s early, so maybe it’s important. Could be Henry from downstairs, needing access to a breaker board or something. Perhaps my mom found out where I was and lost her fucking mind. Today, I’m throwing caution to the wind, though. I don’t care who’s at the door or what they want. Alex was about to strip me naked and fuck me, and that’s honestly all I care about...
He grabs my shorts, yanking them down over my hips, and I whimper in anticipation. Jesus, when did I become this needy? It’s all because of him. I’d still be at the hand-holding stage with anyone else, but it’s impossible to cultivate that kind of control with Alex. My body craves him like a junkie craves their next fix. I’ve forgotten what restraint even looks like these days.
“You wet for me, dolcezza? You think you deserve my tongue on your clit?”
Heat explodes across my face and down my torso, shooting in between my thighs. Holy fuck. A handful of words and a piercing stare and I’m ready to implode.
DUM DUM DUM!
“Alex! Open the door. It’s Maeve!”
Maeve? What the hell? The name sets alarm bells ringing in my head. Fuck, it sets alarm klaxons ringing in my head. Social workers don’t clock in on the biggest holiday of the year. I’m assuming they don’t, anyway. Dad’s always complaining about civil servants and how they’re hardly ever available during normal working hours. Today’s Christmas Day. Maeve should be spending time with her family. I don’t like the panicked note I heard in her voice through three walls and across an entire apartment. Makes me think worrying thoughts.
A cold, unpleasant sensation creeps its way up my spine. “Don’t answer.” I grip Alex tighter between my legs, holding him in place. “She can’t just show up here whenever she feels like it. You’re allowed some privacy, right? Don’t I deserve some undisturbed time alone with you?”
I sound like a petty little bitch, whining at her boyfriend to pay attention to her, but that isn’t what’s going on here. Maeve’s advocated for Alex on numerous occasions. She was standing up for him the very first time I saw him in the hallway outside Darhower’s office. She squared away the fact that he was a minor living on his own, even though he was still supposed to be under Monty’s care. Without her, Alex would never have scored this apartment. And she promised she’d help Alex with his custody case for Ben. Not to mention, if she hadn’t been standing by his side when he went into court after shooting Jake, then chances are he’d probably still be in jail right now. Alex verbally swipes at her all the time, but I know he appreciates her. I do, too. I think the woman’s a badass.
No, I don’t want him to go and answer the door because something bad is waiting for us on the other side of it. And once we’ve let it in, we won’t be able to shut it out again. I rarely have gut feelings about anything, but this…this is different. A sense of dread crushes me in its jaws. This is the kind of foreboding that perches on your shoulder moments before something comes along and destroys everything you hold dear, and you right along with it.
“Needy little Parisi. Don’t worry. I’ve been a good boy. I haven’t broken any laws. That I know of, anyway.” He smirks, amusement sparking like the embers of a fire in his dark eyes. “The weirdest things turn out to be illegal sometimes. I’ll see what she wants and get rid of her. The woman’s persistent as fuck. If she thinks I’m home, she won’t lea—”