Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles #5)(100)

I covered Gemma’s hand with mine and showed her how to stroke me. Her cheeks were pink but an expression of intense focus lay on her face. Trust Gemma to want to be the best even in this.

My balls were already throbbing. Fuck, they had been throbbing from the second I’d seen Gemma naked and when I’d finally touched her pussy, I’d been sure I’d shoot my load. I didn’t even remember my last premature orgasm.

Watching her beautiful body, seeing her fingers on my cock, I soon began pumping my hips to meet her hands. A goddamn hand job made me unravel, a fucking disgrace, but Gemma drove me completely crazy, without much effort, without much thought.

Her eyes widened when my cock became even harder and I came with a groan, causing a mess on my thighs and stomach because she kept pumping a bit too enthusiastically. Chuckling, I let my head fall back.

I reached for tissues I’d stashed beside the bed to be safe and handed a few to Gemma before I began cleaning my jizz off. Gemma was biting her lip, lost in thought. I’d never bothered wondering what girls were thinking. It had seemed like a waste of time and energy, but with Gemma, I would have given anything to get a glimpse into that pretty head.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pulled her against my side. She looked insecure, almost guilty. That traditional bullshit was probably messing with her head again. How could pleasure ever be sin? I ran my fingertip along her temple. “Dollar for your thoughts.”

Gemma pressed into me, depriving me of the chance to see her expression.

“Gem, come on. Say something. This silent treatment makes me feel like I forced you to do something you didn’t want.” I didn’t often feel guilty, and mostly in relation to Gemma, and my sleepless nights definitely weren’t the result of my conscience, but the idea of having pushed Gemma bothered me more than I thought possible. I wanted her to want it, want me.

“You didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted it.”

Thank fuck.

“Then what? Do I have to get sex isn’t sin tattoo across my butt to drive the message home?”

Gemma choked out a laugh, slapping my chest before she began to idly trace my eight-pack once more. “Don’t disfigure your behind.”

“My behind…” I shook my head with a smile before I peered down. “Does that mean you enjoy the sight of it?”

She met my gaze. “Are you really fishing for compliments? You are the only person I could ever imagine getting a tattoo with their own name.”

I grinned. “Don’t change the topic.”

She gave a shrug. “It is nice to look at.”

“I like your ass too, Gem.”

She pursed that kissable mouth. I stroked my fingers along her waist and hip, enjoying how her eyes fluttered shut under the sensation. “I always imagined things to be different…”

“Different how?”

“Being intimate with a man. Mom never talked to me about it but my aunt saw me in my jeans and T-shirt once, and told me that I was asking for men to touch if I dressed like that, and that men are driven by their urges and wouldn’t be able to hold themselves back if I didn’t cover myself.”

I scoffed. “What a load of bullshit,” I growled. I tipped Gem’s face up. “No matter how you dress, only an asshole would think you’re asking for it. And that men can’t hold back after a certain point is complete and utter bullshit, Gemma. There’s no point of no return. That’s an urban myth that sick fucks use to justify rape. Even if you were lying naked under me, my dick already pressed up to your pretty pussy, I’d be able to stop if you told me so.”

Gemma smiled.

“I mean, I’d cry fat tears and my balls would explode, but I’d stop without hesitation. You can trust me at any point.”

Gemma wrapped an arm around me, her body softening against mine. “Thank you.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what for, but I enjoyed the feel of her relaxation.

“Tell me one personal thing about you that no one else knows.”

I tensed. My first reaction was to resort to sarcasm. I hadn’t bargained for so much talking, especially about emotions, but I wanted things between Gemma and me to work. I really wanted that, and not because I wanted to pop her cherry, not only because of that.

I didn’t want to dive into the black hole that was my early childhood and it wouldn’t really have been something no one knew about.

I thought back to the early days of my life in Las Vegas after we’d claimed back power. Suddenly after years of fighting and running, I’d had a home and the chance to live a life that came as close to normal as being a Falcone allowed, which was still a far cry from everyone else’s normal. “When I first became friends with Diego, it was because I loved spending time at your house. It was the first time I witnessed a normal family, one that wasn’t fueled by hate, pain, and fear. Don’t get me wrong, Remo and Nino did their best to raise Adamo and me. They did everything in their power to protect us, to care for us, but… you know Remo and Nino.”

Remo had taken care of my brothers and me since he was fourteen and our father had sent us to boarding school in England to get us out of the way. Dealing with our crazy mother, his sadistic hobbies and us, had simply been too much. “For a while, I really wanted a family like that, a life like that…”