Shadow Rider (Shadow Riders, #1)

by Christine Feehan

“There’s a tradition in our family,” Vittorio said. “When the first arrives, the others will follow.”

A moment in his life he knew he would never forget. He would share what he considered a private, perfect, almost frightening moment. “I heard her voice first. She responded to something Joanna Masci said to her. That note in her voice turned the key, unlocking something deep inside of me. I felt it like a terrible wrenching inside. Everything in me reached for her. For that note she left hanging in the air. I heard the music in me answer.”

“Your body is mine. No one touches you. No one else ever puts their hands or their mouth on you. I’m not easy, dolce cuore, but I’m yours. I swear that to you. I’m yours, and I’m going to make you feel so good.” He didn’t wait for a reply, bending to take her mouth.

“Touch your nipples, Francesca,” he ordered. “Pinch and pull, hard. Like I did. Don’t be afraid of being rough. You like that. Every time I bit down, I could feel how wet you got for me. So hot. So slick. I want to watch you.”

He plunged a second finger into her without any warning, simultaneously giving her an order. “Now, baby, come for me now.” She did, screaming, as her body shattered, fragmented, her back arching, her hips bucking, a sob welling up as the tsunami roared through her.

Stefano slid his cock inch by inch, as slowly as he possibly could, into Francesca’s scorching sheath, drawing out the moment as long as possible, savoring the feeling of her oh so fucking tight channel reluctantly giving way for him. He could feel every heartbeat right through his

cock. He’d never been so hard in his life. So near the loss of control when control was everything to him.

Stefano couldn’t pretend he hadn’t been with a lot of women before Francesca. He’d felt momentary pleasure—a lot of pleasure. The truth was, he had an intense job, and fucking was release to him. It was good and he liked it, but being with Francesca wiped out every other time before her. He knew he would never forget this moment as long as he lived. The way she looked. The way he felt. His cock was in fucking heaven, the pleasure ripping through his body, until every nerve ending he had was a part of the fireball streaking through him.

Francesca’s gaze clung to his, and he knew the exact moment she gave herself to him. The submission. The trust. She let go and gave herself into his keeping. She screamed, loud and long, a

wail that filled the room as her sweet, scorching-hot sheath clamped down on his cock like a fucking vise, taking him with her. Her body shook, breasts dancing, hips bucking, legs stiffening as she mewed, her inner muscles convulsing over and over, as her climax ripped through her. Jet after jet of hot seed pumped into her, filling her, prolonging and adding to the strength of her orgasm.

He wished he had recorded it, so he could replay his claiming her over and over. If he could have, he would have ordered his name tattooed across her breasts. He’d have it branded on her ass. He

Each of them had been sent away for a year at a time to train elsewhere in the world. Ricco had come back scarred, tough and cold as ice. He lived on the edge all the time and Stefano regarded him as a ticking time bomb. Vittorio was a peacemaker, but something burned bright and savage under all that cool. Giovanni was the most volatile. One moment he was rational and the next his temper burned out of control. Taviano appeared to be gentle. Kind. He had a sense of humor. But he wasn’t any of those things as a rule. Stefano had tried to find out what had happened to each of them in those years they’d spent with other trainers, but none of his siblings would answer him.

Stefano had been too strong, too ruthless even as a teenager, to put up with any of the trainers putting their hands on him. He’d earned the reputation of being dangerous before he was fifteen. His brothers were every bit as dangerous as he was now, but it had taken those years away to shape them into the killers hiding behind their handsome faces.

“Why don’t you divorce him, Eloisa? You’re retired. It won’t matter whether or not you can ride a shadow. It won’t matter to him if he doesn’t remember any of us.” He spoke as gently as possible. “He’s never been anything but hurtful to you.” Eloisa held up her hand. It was shaking, but she kept it there, a barrier between them. “If I can’t ride a shadow, I can’t get to one of you when you might need help. I don’t care what Phillip does. It isn’t like I’m going to find the love of my life at this late date, but I can continue to make certain my children are as safe as I can make them.”