Lorenzo (Chicago Ruthless, #3)

by Sadie Kincaid

“How long has it been since your mom died?” Twenty-one years and five months. “Too long.”

“How about I take a look at your neck for you?” Before I can refuse, she’s already on her feet, brushing the dust from her jeans. “I’m fine,” I assure her. Ignoring me, she draws closer. “It looks like you’re kinda stiff and sore.” “I said it’s fine. I have work to do,” I bark, hoping my tone will scare her away. It’s usually enough to make grown men shit their pants. But not her.

“Seems to be worse on your left side from what I’ve noticed?” Her warm, soft fingers brush the back of my neck. I flinch at her touch. “Is it sensitive?” Her voice is laced with concern. “No,” I snap, annoyed with myself for reacting the way I am. She’s just a woman—no, a professional massage therapist giving me a neck massage. Nothing to get freaked out about. “I see,” she says softly. What does she see? That she’s the first woman who’s not related to me that I’ve allowed to touch my skin in over two years? “It’s just a stiff neck.” “I know. Just give me five minutes, and even if it doesn’t feel better, all you’ve lost is a little time. And you’ll have made me feel useful.” “Fine,” I grunt, leaning forward.

I snarl when she finds the sensitive spot that’s been plaguing me for weeks. She chuckles. “Don’t be a baby.” Her warm breath dusts over my skin and a shiver runs the length of my spine.

“What the hell is a sunshine song?” “Well, I have lots of sunshine things. A sunshine movie. TV show. Food. You know, the kind of thing that always makes you smile no matter how bad your day is? Like sunshine? ‘Bright Side of the Road’ is my sunshine song.”

Her fingers knead deeper into my muscles, and the endorphins that flood my body make me grunt. She dips her head and some of her hair falls onto my shoulder. “I’ll let you borrow mine if you like.” Her warm breath dances over my cheek and, without warning, all the blood in my body rushes south. What the motherfucking fuck!

“Did it help at all though?” I roll my neck and shoulders. It actually feels a fuckload better than it did a few minutes ago. “Yeah. Thanks.” “Well, give me a few minutes a day and I’ll sort it out for you. And it’s probably a good idea to stop sleeping on the sofa—” “What?” Her cheeks turn pink. “Kat and Dante mentioned you often sleep on the sofa. Isn’t that why you have a stiff neck?”

She looks just like … Just like what, asshole? Just like a ray of fucking sunshine.

“I what?” “You don’t usually give a fuck about anyone who’s not one of us, Loz,” Max finishes for her. Rage bubbles beneath my skin, and I snarl. What the fuck does that mean? “She’s Kat’s cousin, that makes her one of us.”

“I do. I’m so sorry I brought this trouble to you all. I’ll leave first thing in the morning. I’ll find somewhere to go. I’m so sorry. I had no idea that Brad had any connection to anyone high up in the Chicago PD, because if I had—” “Mia!” Lorenzo’s deep voice cuts through my breathless chatter and a deafening silence falls over the room, broken only by me sucking in air. My blood thunders in my ears. “None of this is your fault,” he says, his tone calm and reassuring. “He’s right, Mia.” Dante sighs. “Please don’t think my anger at your ex-husband is in any way directed at you.” “B-but I—” “Enough,” Lorenzo barks,

I’m so fucking agitated. I have no idea why I didn’t kill that stupid fuck in there. I barely slept at all last night. Every damn time I tried to doze off, all I could see were dangerous curves wrapped in orange fabric. Holy mother of fucks, why did she have to come to dinner dressed like that? Not that it was inappropriate, but it was way too distracting. My cock twitches. Fuck! I scrunch my eyes tighter, trying to rid my brain of the memory of her in that goddamn dress. And why is her seat at the table directly opposite mine, where I have no choice but to look at her all fucking night? Is it not bad enough that she’s invaded my library? Now she’s invaded my every waking thought. And that ass … so fine it should have its own national holiday.

Mia Stone brings out my protective streak, and I’m not prepared to consider why.

With my eyes closed and my palms flat on the tiled wall, I stand in the shower. Usually, the scalding water takes the edge off a little, but not today. Nothing soothes me lately. Pent-up tension and rage bristle beneath my skin. My muscles are tense as fuck. My cock is rock hard and has been for the past hour. After Mia left the library, I kept seeing that tormented look I put on her face. The hurt I etched there. And then I imagined her gazing at me like that for an entirely different reason. What if I could give her a completely different kind of hurt? The kind that walks the thin line between pleasure and pain. No! I shake my head and bang my fists on the tiles and imagine Anya’s face. Blue eyes and ash-blond hair. High cheekbones and pale pink lips. I squeeze the base of my shaft hard, waiting for the relief to seep into my bones, but none comes. I pump fast, hoping some of the tension will start to dissipate as a climax builds. But it doesn’t. Nothing helps.

All I can see is Mia’s face. The pain. The way she smiles even when she’s hurting. Heat sears in my chest, tightening my balls. Would she smile like that if I … “Fuck!” I roar, banging my clenched fist against the wall. I can’t think about anyone but Anya while I’m jacking off. Can’t think about anything but her beautiful body. That’s the way it’s been for as long as I can remember. That’s the way it will always be. But when I close my eyes again, even her face eludes me.

“A straightforward one. Why don’t you eat dessert?” Old memories and lingering shame cause heat to creep up my neck and cheeks. I don’t want to answer, but Lorenzo stares at me, patiently waiting for my reply. “Sugar and fat go straight to my ass. I’m always ten pounds heavier than I should be, and dessert does not look good on a body like mine.” His jaw ticks. “Who told you that?” “What?”

I dip my head, so not wanting to have this conversation. A large bite of cheesecake appears in front of me. “What?” I look between him and the gooey dessert two inches from my face. “Eat.” I blink at him. Is he for real? “I-I can’t.” “Yeah, you can.” He inches the fork closer to my lips, and despite my embarrassment, I find myself opening my mouth and allowing him to feed me. As soon as the flavor hits my tongue, the sweet taste floods my senses, making me moan softly in appreciation. My eyes flutter closed. Oh! This is so good.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “You’re welcome.” He takes a bite for himself, licking the fork—the one that was just in my mouth—clean before scooping up another chunk and holding it out to me. Raising my hand, I shake my head. “No, you enjoy it.” The corners of his mouth curl upward. “I’m gonna enjoy watching you enjoy it.” Holy crap!

I suck the cheesecake from the tines, sweeping my tongue over every nook to savor the sweet, delicious substance. Lorenzo keeps his gaze fixed on mine, making no attempt to pull the fork from my mouth. I’m hyperaware of the fact that he licked it clean only seconds earlier, and a throbbing ache builds inside me. Why does this moment feel so sensual? His fork is in my mouth, but it may as well be his tongue for the way my body reacts. Pulse thrumming against my pressure points. Skin flushed. Wet heat pooling between my thighs. His eyes darken as he pulls the fork from my mouth.

“Was that good?” he asks, his voice smoother than the caramel we just shared. Is he talking about the cheesecake or the way he fed it to me? “Yes,” I reply to both, my cheeks flaming brighter. “It’s a pleasure to watch a beautiful woman enjoy her food.” I blink at him. He thinks I’m beautiful? My heart flutters in my chest like a bird trapped in a cage.

“For the record, I think your ass, and the rest of your body, is fucking perfect.”

I just told our temporary house guest that her body is perfect. Why the hell did I say that? Maybe because I felt bad that her asshole ex-husband made her feel so shitty that she denies herself the pleasure of a food she so clearly enjoys? Yes, that was why. Not because my gaze drifts far too often down to her juicy round ass or her tits that strain against the fabric of the various dresses and tops she wears. My pity for her is the only reason I said what I did.

My balls feel heavy and hot. I haven’t jerked off for over a week, and I need to cum before I implode. That’s all this is about. Once I blow my load, I’ll forget about the way that distracting yellow dress hugs every inch of her body and shows off her tan, toned legs. I need to get off to the memory of my wife. The only woman I will ever love. The only woman I can ever want. A few moments later, I’m standing in the shower with piping hot water streaming over my face and chest. Gripping the base of my shaft, I squeeze hard and groan as blessed relief rolls through me. I picture her. My sweet Anya.

My balls draw up, all fire and fury as I work my cock more firmly. When I lose control, coming so hard and fast that my knees buckle, it’s to the vision of shining hazel eyes, full pink lips, and a pair of beautiful big tits encased in a yellow dress.

Every single morning, I wake with a raging hard on, and every single morning, I try to jerk off to the memory of Anya’s face, only to be plagued by images of Mia.

“There’s a guy here, Boss …” “And?” “He says he’s a cop.” “He says he’s a cop or he is a cop, Jimmy?” I snap, too wound up for riddles. “Well, he showed me his badge, but he’s not Chicago PD.” “So where is he from?” I already know the answer. “Boston.”

“He says you’ve kidnapped his wife,” Jimmy adds. I chuckle humorlessly. “I’ll be right out.”

Cop or not, I will shoot Brad Mulcahy where he stands before I let him anywhere near Mia.

“Just give me my wife.” His voice is half snarl, half whine. “Bring her out here and you’ll never see either of us again.” “Now just why the fuck would I want to do that?” He barks out a laugh. “Because she’s not fucking worth it, man. Trust me.”

“I happen to think she’s very worth it. Every delicious inch of her.” That sparks something in him, and he bounces on his toes, anger radiating from him in waves. A thick vein pulses by his temple and he raises one fist. “Do it, fuckface,” I goad. “Please fucking do it.” “Take all three of you on?” He sneers at my guards. “I give you my word they won’t touch you. They won’t fucking have to, but just give me a reason to, you sick fuck.” “Fuck you!” he spits. “You heard anything from your kid sister lately, Brad?” I ask with a grin, and the color drains from his face in an instant. His entire face twists with malice. “What the fuck are you on about?” “I know all about Michaela. And your mom.” I hope my lie will get him to reveal something more, but he stays silent and glares at me.

“Everything okay, brother?” I keep my attention glued to Brad. “Everything is just fine. Bradley here was just leaving.” The asshole snorts, but his knees shake as he takes the few steps to his car. Before he opens the door, I grab onto his forearm, digging my fingers into his taut muscle. “You ever set foot in Chicago again and I will kill you in the most painful way imaginable. You ever try to contact Mia in any way ever again and I will tell the entire world about you and your whole fucked-up family. You got me?”

Do I tell her that her sack of shit husband was just here? No, I can’t. She might decide to run, and if she left … I don’t know what the fuck I’d do, but I do know I like having her here.

I stop pacing and stand still, chest heaving as I stare at her. She places her hand on my chest, right over my hammering heart, and leans close. So goddamn close. Her breath dusts along my neck and my cock twitches, letting me know he’s running the show from here on out. My brain checks out, happily handing over the reins. “Tell me what’s wrong. What do you need?” I suck in a breath, lazily looking over her curves. Her fingers twitch and my very last shred of restraint snaps. “What if what I need is you, Mia?” The words rumble out of me like a growl. “You know you can have me any time you want, right?” she whispers. Blinding light flashes in my eyes, and a surge of adrenaline propels me forward. My hand is around her throat, pushing her back until she’s perched on the edge of the desk, her fingers splayed out on either side of her hips. She spreads her thighs, allowing me to step between them and press my body flat against hers. She holds my gaze, daring me to keep going. I can’t. I shouldn’t. But I do.

Those lips. Fucking plump and begging to be wrapped around my cock. I crash my mouth down on hers, swallowing her sounds as my hand travels lower, over the arc of her hip and around to her ass. I squeeze hard, and her soft flesh yields to my touch as though it’s been lying dormant waiting for my fingertips.

She rocks her hips forward, grinding her pussy on my cock, and precum weeps from the crown. If I don’t come soon, I will die from a fucking heart attack. She pulls back, panting for breath as she runs a hand through my hair and tugs, tilting my head so that I’m staring into her hazel eyes. “Fuck me,” she breathes out the words. Holy mother of fucks. I almost choke on air, swaying on my feet as violent waves of desire crash over me. My head pounds, my cock aches. I lift her onto the desk and slide a hand between her thighs, my fingertips kneading her soft flesh as I work my way up to the apex. The place where I can lose myself in her.

I want inside her. I want to feel her. I want to feel. It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of a woman. So fucking long.

I yank her arms behind her back, easily circling my fingers around both of her wrists and pinning them in place while I free my cock. I roughly tug her panties down with one hand. Kicking them off, she wraps her long legs around my waist and pulls me closer. The tip of my cock presses against her wet heat, and nothing exists except for me and her and this moment. I slide in and her hot pussy squeezes my dick like a vise. “Holy. Fuck!” I grunt, burying my face in her neck. Grabbing a handful of her ass, I rail into her like an animal. My cock pulses and throbs as I drive in and out of her wet pussy. She’s dripping, coating my shaft in her sweet juices and making it possible for me to sink balls-deep into her tight-as-fuck cunt. And she feels so fucking good. Pure relief seeps into my bones, and with every thrust inside her, I get closer and closer to the edge that’s been eluding me for so long. “Oh, god, Lorenzo.”

“Your cunt, Mia …” I release her wrists so I can hold onto her hips and drive harder and deeper. “Feels so good.” “Yes,” she moans, wrapping her arms around my neck and clinging to me.

I need her so fucking much. “So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Good.”

I can’t hold off any longer. I’m going to come, fill her up, and I’d rather die than stop now. Gripping her ass tighter, I drive inside her one last time, making her cry out as I empty myself into her. I close my eyes and almost black out from the force of my climax. I fill her tight pussy until my cum drips out, overflowing from her channel. Three days’ worth of cum. Two years’ worth of anger and guilt and frustration and sadness. And she took it all.

I was too rough. Too hard. I didn’t even get her off. And now it’s over, the rush of endorphins already leaving my body, replaced by more guilt and anger. Zipping up my pants, I avert my eyes, unable to look at her. “Lorenzo?” “I’m sorry, Mia.”

“I cheated on her, D.” He blinks at me, confused. I should have known he wouldn’t understand. “On who, Loz?” “Anya,” I snap, barely able to keep the anger surging through me under control. He leans forward, folding his arms on the desk. “You didn’t cheat—” “I fucked a woman who isn’t my wife.”

“I fucked someone else, D.” I hang my head, dropping it into my hands. All I hear is the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. How the fuck did I let this happen? Making decisions with my dick, that’s how. I’m a better man than that. Anya deserves better than that. He finally responds. “It’s been two years, Loz.” I lift my head, and he’s still staring at me with worry etched on his face. “It could be two hundred years, it wouldn’t matter. Anya is my wife.” “But she died …” “You think I don’t fucking know that?” I spit the words, directing my rage at him because I have nowhere else to put it. “You think I don’t remember every single second of every single fucking day that she’s dead?” He winces. “I know.” “No, you don’t know, Dante. You don’t have any fucking idea.” “I miss her too, Loz.” “Of course you fucking miss her. Everyone misses her. But do you feel like every single day is an effort just to open your fucking eyes in the morning because you no longer have the one person who made your life what it was?” I don’t give him time to answer. “What if it was Kat? Would you be okay after two years?”

“So, why do I feel like I did?” “Is this the first time you’ve … In two years?” I scowl at him. “Of course it fucking is.” “Wow.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “I just assumed—” “No.” I shake my head, guilt and shame eating away at my insides. “I’ve never even looked at a woman like that …” Until Mia. “So, what happened. Who was this woman?” Guilt clogs my throat, and I look down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Mia?” I don’t confirm or deny, but he takes my silence as an admission of guilt. “For fuck’s sake, Loz. She’s my wife’s cousin.” “It won’t happen again,” I assure him. “Does she know that?”

“You did nothing wrong, Loz,” Dante assures me. “So why do I feel so fucking bad?” “Because you love your wife.” I do. “That will never change. No matter how many women you fuck, it doesn’t change how much you love her.”

All those weeks of pent-up sexual tension, and now it’s over. I guess it’s not that unusual—unfortunately—for a guy to not care about a woman’s pleasure as long as he finds his own, but Lorenzo didn’t strike me as that type of guy at all. But the worst part is that he walked away without even checking if I was okay. It seems so at odds with the man I’ve been getting to know. I shake my head. We shouldn’t have gone there. I mean, it was great sex—hot sex—right up to the point where he left me hanging. I was literally on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, and he just stopped.

“I’m clean too. There’s been no one since Anya.” Holy bananas! I’m the first woman he’s been with since his dead wife? I had no idea. No wonder he rushed off the way he did. Unsure what to say, I nod and look around the room for a means of escape. This is torture; I’m such an idiot. “So, we’re all good then,”

“It’s bold of you to assume I want it to happen again, is all,” I blurt. Idiot! His frown deepens into a scowl. “I just …” His Adam’s apple bobs. “You assumed that I’d be addicted to your giant penis after one quick liaison in the library?” I arch my eyebrow. Oh, for the love of god, shut up, Mia! He flinches. “No. I just meant …” “It’s not like we had great chemistry, is it?”

“I mean, I guess not all sex has to end with both parties coming. That doesn’t necessarily mean it was bad,”

“So we’re in agreement then?” he barks. “Never again.” “Never.” I offer him my most genuine smile, trying to lighten the mood and convey that we can still be friends despite what happened earlier, but he glowers at me. Goddammit, Mia!

So much promise, only for him to leave me wet and needy. Gah! Stop it, Mia. It was mediocre sex at best. He fucked you and left you hanging. But what if— “Mia?” Kat says, popping her head into the kitchen. “That movie we were talking about is on soon. You wanna watch it with me?”