Their Queenpin (The Ridge MC #6)

Chapter 7Adelina

Chapter Seven

Adelina

Just because I needed to sleep didn’t mean that I wanted to. I wanted to let the day go but not my guys, and yeah, I would be calling them that even if only in my head. And now that Sas acknowledged it, I had to figure out a plan for the rings I’d hidden with my under things for the right moment.

Rafe held my waist as he led me upstairs to the suite in the Parisi hotel. I’d once called this place home. These corridors and rooms, everything about the monstrosity of a building, I knew like the back of my hand.

Knew, and now hated.

Any and all good memories soured when I suspected my father’s hand in Sas’s arrest. No matter how many times we’d dismissed the idea in church, it still festered under my skin.

Graff trailed a step behind us, glancing over his shoulder. Without me—or Sas—inside what would’ve been our honeymoon suite, it seemed like a vulnerable, unguarded place. Whereas if Sas were here tonight with me—his bride—I’m certain it would feel like heaven.

“We should get some prospects up here to stand guard,” said Rafe.

Time to deploy my idea.

“You can stay with me,” I said, nearly pleading. Then, I met Graff’s gaze, wanting to make sure they understood. “Both of you.”

Even if he was the quietest, I would never leave him out. He gave a curt nod like he agreed.

Something flashed in Rafe’s eyes about me asking him to stay, like maybe he believed I truly wanted him. I did, but it was still complicated.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to go. I doubt Graff does either.”

“I don’t,” he agreed.

“I don’t trust my brother,” continued Rafe, “especially after today. This is his hotel, and he already has his cameras trained.” He glanced up at the dome hanging near the door to my suite. “Someone has to be watching, so...”

He left the last part off, the ‘so Graff and I shouldn’t be here’ part.

“Why not?” I demanded.

Rafe looked away when he spoke, “Because, Adelina.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Appearances.”

I barked a laugh at him, the full force making me puff out my chest. He worried so much about what others thought that he would allow me to be alone.

“I’ll call for the prospects to stand guard outside,” said Rafe. “They won’t bother you.”

So they would both leave me? And I would be in my honeymoon suite by myself, spending my first married night alone. Rafe was warring with himself—his eyes narrowed on the camera—but he wouldn’t fight to stay with me here, no matter how much I needed the warmth and heartbeat of someone beside me.

He wanted to be a good guy, and a good guy wouldn’t sleep with his niece. Or so he told himself. If he was so desperate to be away from me, I wouldn’t argue with him. But I needed comfort now. And strong arms to hold me.

I turned my back on Rafe, facing Graff. Some of the weight shifted off my chest, allowing me to breathe. “Will you stay with me?”

He hesitated the same as Rafe, but he was Sas’s best friend and knew better than most how Sas might react.

For fuck’s sake, I should’ve said aloud that Sas didn’t want me to be alone. Shouldn’t the fact that he sent Graff to me before the wedding be enough to make that clear to everyone? But I kept those words snugly to my chest.

“Please, Graff,” I begged, taking his hand. Charcoal stained his fingers from sketching half the day.

“Okay,” said Graff without looking at Rafe.

My uncle didn’t respond. I didn’t expect that he would.

Louder, and with his head facing the camera, he said, “I’ll stand guard for you tonight, Adelina.”

“I’ll see you two early tomorrow morning,” said Rafe in a small voice. “Adelina, it has been a long day. Try get some sleep. You too, Graff.”

Rafe gave me a hug, squeezing me tightly into his chest, then let go and walked away without another word.

Inside, Graff stayed in the living area of the suite while I went to the bedroom and slipped into one of Sas’s long tank tops. The armholes would probably leave my boobs poking out the sides by morning, but I didn’t care. I needed someone close. As I turned down the bed and crawled inside, it became clear that sleep was not in the cards.

I tossed and turned and then curled into the big bed alone, stacking the pillows in on one side and laying my head down. I forced my eyes to close and tried to imagine Sas beside me, but he would never allow me to lay my head on his chest and asleep. I flopped over, curling into a ball, as light leaked in from under the door.

Graff was there. Still up if the light was any indication. I hoped he wasn’t staying awake on my account, because he needed sleep as much as I did.

With a huff, I switched sides and punched the pillows off, tears building in my eyes at who should’ve been with me. I tried not to yell at myself for getting so attached to Sas. Hell, I didn’t remember when it had happened. Possibly when he was ripped out of my hands?

I cried because I wanted him here tonight, giving me the wedding present he promised. I imagined he would touch me, shove me down into the bed and enter me in one stroke, making sure I took him as deep and hard as the first time. He would lay claim to me, watching every one of my haggard breaths with his devilish, controlling eyes.

“Fuck,” I moaned, pulling up his shirt to get the scent of him in my nose, hoping it would lull me to sleep.

I’d chosen not to wear the lingerie I’d purchased for him, because I still wanted to see his reaction. If he would go mad and strip it from my wanting body.

Who was I kidding? A beast like him didn’t care about flimsy pieces of fabric. I knew he would like to rip the lace and leave it in tatters on the bed.

My fingers stroked my pussy, and I gasped. I hadn’t even realized my hand had drifted down, but I imagined it was Sas playing with me. Would he be rough and force me to come or would he toy with me to get me so far before snatching back his hands? Either way, I wanted it all.

I pinched my swelling clit then rubbed my slit harder, calling for the orgasm to come. I stifled a soft moan that slipped into sobs. I was crumbling for him.

I withdrew my hands before I came, shoving my thighs apart. Rafe had removed the vibrator, and that orgasm had been breath-taking. Eye-opening. But now I wished the egg-shaped thing was still deep inside me because it might’ve been the last piece of Sas that I had for a long time.

Tears ran from the corner of my eyes, and I tried to wipe them away before they splattered on the crisp white pillowcase.

Turning on the lamp, I grabbed my cell phone and opened the camera. When I turned it to face me, I gasped. Red splotches covered my chest, my eyes were swollen, and my cheeks were pale.

This was stupid. I was being ridiculous. But when I turned off the lamp again and curled into a ball, the light slipped in from the other room. Grabbing my cell phone, I climbed out of bed.

When I opened the bedroom door, I found Graff on the couch, knee propped up with a sketchpad resting on top and a pencil in his hand. An earbud dangled in his lobe. He glanced up, did a double take, and whipped his earbud out.

“Adelina, what’s wrong?” he asked, standing. “You’ve been crying.”

I might’ve laughed if it weren’t for the depressed exhaustion of the day. Graff was so concerned about me crying that he didn’t care that I was almost naked. Such a sweet man.

“I’m thinking about Sas,” I admitted, blinking the tears from my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Adelina,” said Graff. He rested the sketchpad and pencil on the arm of the couch. “Do you want to talk?”

“I was actually hoping you would take a picture of me.” I offered him my cell phone. “For Sas in jail.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Clearing his throat, he took the phone from my hand. “Where do you want to be?”

“Here is fine,” I said.

He opened up the camera on my phone and then shook his head. “The lighting’s shit.”

Of course it was. The Parisi hotel—like all hotels—didn’t have the best lighting in the rooms, and since this little shoot had been impromptu, there were no photographer’s professional lights. Not even a ring light for a good selfie.

Though right now, I’d need filters galore.

“We should try the bedroom?” Graff offered.

“Yeah. There’s more light there,” I said, taking a step backward into the room.

Graff trailed behind me. The chains connected to his cut and jeans clanked. I always knew where he was, not so much from the noise, but the warmth of him. His patience and kindness pulled me in, like a magnet to my metal. Something I was constantly drawn to.

In the bedroom, his natural scent filled the space. Or maybe it was the soap he used—inky and earthy notes, slightly smoky with a hint of a cedar fragrance I recalled from my nonna’s old hope chest.

I turned on a few lamps. “Better?”

“Yes.” He stood near the dresser. “You should lay on the bed.”

“The bed?” I asked, heat burning my cheeks. I remembered how he felt, how he acted, his fingers inside me. And his cock before we’d come to Vegas.

“For the pictures,” he said. “For Sas.”

“I know who they’re for.” I stretched out on the bed, feeling ridiculous as I did it.

This was a bad idea.

I was like a bad porn star. I had never even sexted.

“Move your leg a little over,” suggested Graff, and I tried to follow his orders. “And put your arms down, lean back on your elbows. And your hair...” he trailed off, peeking over the screen of my cell phone.

“My hair?”

“Your hair.” He gulped.

“What about it?”

“It’s in your face.”

I brushed away. “Better?”

“No—yes. I mean . . .”

He walked forward and brushed my hair off my face, his fingertips whispering against my cheek. He tucked the chunk of hair behind my ear, and I pressed my cheek into his palm. He froze, like he was he caught, and I was okay with him frozen if it meant he would allow my touch.

We stayed like that for a few long seconds before he dragged his fingers down my jawline and raised my chin. Then he stepped back, raising the cell phone like a shield.

“Keep your chin up,” he said.

“What? You don’t want me to have a double chin?” I joked.

“You would still be pretty.”

I giggled, heat sparking on my cheeks.

“I love your smile,” he said, clicking the button on my cell phone repeatedly. I didn’t know how many he took, but eventually, he lowered his hand and stared at me.

The throbbing returned to my pussy, and I wanted him.

“I think we’ve got it,” he said, setting my cell phone on the dresser, and he ducked his head. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with, Adelina, but you should probably sleep. Rafe said he’ll be here early?—”

“Come to bed with me,” I blurted.

He paused in the doorway, grimacing. “I can’t, Adelina.”

“Why not? And don’t say because of Sas.”

“It is because of Sas. He’s your husband. It’s your?—”

“I know.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because he said I could,” I answered in a small voice.

Graff peeked at me from the corner of his eye, like he was trying to tell if I was lying, but I wasn’t.

Forcing myself to my knees, I made my voice louder. “Sas gave me permission.”

It was like a light had been turned on in his head. Suddenly, he was sliding his eyes down my body, taking me in inch by inch. He lingered on the shirt as it slipped off my shoulder. Hunger darkened his eyes.

He focused on the swell of my hips, up my stomach, and curve of my breasts shadowed under Sas’s tank. And everywhere his eyes touched, my skin burned.

“Get into bed with me,” I repeated, moving to the edge and reaching for him. But I didn’t need to tell him again.

He pulled off his leather cut and then took off his jeans, revealing his underwear and under shirt. Both were tight to his body, revealing the tattoos curling around his arms and across his thighs. He had drawn on himself too many times to count.

I wanted to see all the tattoos, to take my time exploring them and tracing my fingers up and down him. To determine how he would stamp me next. Turning off most of the lights, he dimmed my vision of his tattoos.

He approached the bed and placed his hands on my body.

My breath hitching, I half sobbed as I said, “Graff?—”

“I’ve got you, Adelina,” he replied, and then his hands were peeling up the hem of the long tank.

“I want to see you, Graff,” I whined.

“There is more than sight, Adelina. There’s touch.”

“You’ve touched me before.”

He laughed. It was such a hearty sound. “Yes, I have. And I fucking loved every second of it. If I get my way, Adelina, I will never stop touching you.”

Then he grabbed my breasts, taking my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

I arched my back, pressing into his hands.

Deep in his throat, he let out an appreciative groan and wrapped his arm around me, cradling me to his chest before he laid me down. Then he licked one of my nipples, and I hummed. It left me wanting more. I dragged my thighs apart.

“Would you ever get your nipples pierced?” he asked.

“Are you offering?” I chuckled.

“Do you want me to?” And then he bit me down on my nipple, and I whined.

The pain was immediate but soft, like he didn’t mean to hurt me or draw blood. Definitely not the kind of pain Sas would inflict. The sensation quickly faded as Graff dragged his tongue around my areola.

“Will it be like that?” I asked breathlessly.

“No,” he said. “It will hurt.”

“How do you know?” I asked, tracing the tattoos crossing his body to see if they left ridges on his skin. To my surprise, they were smooth.

“I did things when I was a kid.”

“Not anymore?” I reached for his chest, but he grabbed my hands, raising them above my head.

His hot breath and then his lips brushed my forehead, lighting me on fire. He started to kiss down my arms, then across my chest—staying away from my breasts—and then up my neck. Finally, I thought his lips would meet mine, but they never came.

“Why did you stop?” I asked, pouting.

“Sas would allow me to fuck you,” said Graff in a gravelly tone. “But you should save your kisses for him. At least for now.”

“But—”

Then Graff’s cock was at my entrance, sliding down my slit, distracting me from the almost kiss.

“You’re already wet, Adelina,” he said. “Drenched.”

“I was touching myself before,” I admitted.

“Did you come?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I swallowed the truth and any lie. I had no explanation.

“Then allow me,” said Graff, guiding his cock inside of me. “Come for me, Adelina.”

He started to rock inside me, stroke after stroke, and my pussy clenched around him. I wanted to suck him as deep as the vibrator had been, holding him close so he wouldn’t go.

Please don’t leave me tonight , I wanted to beg. I can’t stand to be alone.

I needed this. I needed him and my guys.

He quickened his thrusts, leaving me breathless, as the pleasure built inside. I rolled one way and another, grabbing him where I could. I found his hips and held on, digging my fingers into his ass.

He barely left my cunt now, shoving deep and hard into me as I leaned back on the bed. He lifted my hips and shoved in deeper, demanding more. His ass flexed under my hands.

All the sensations in my lower belly quickened, and I panted. Moaned. Whined. Then said, “I’m going to come.”

“Yes, baby. Come for me, Adelina,” said Graff, working his cock deep into me.

“I’m going—” And then I unraveled, riding out my orgasm on Graff’s cock, as he gripped my hips to anchor me toward him. I milked him and took him in deeper until I was certain he would impale me.

And then he stopped, allowing me to be in the dark with only my spasming inner walls and his weight pressing me into the bed.

“How was it?” he asked after a long moment.

“So good.”

“Only good?” He tucked his hand between us and rubbed my clit like I’d insulted him with the mild compliment. Persistent strokes like he wanted to make me come again.

Instead of letting him, I dragged myself back and crawled to my knees, following the brush of his hairy legs and lowering myself down to the tip of his cock. I swirled my tongue around the crown.

“Adelina,” groaned Graff, “you don’t have to?—”

“I want to.” I sank my mouth down on his cock, dragging my tongue along the veins. I took him as deep as my throat would allow, bobbing my head up and down. He tried to raise his hips before I held him in place like he had with me.

When he relented, I worked him until his cock had to be aching.

“Adelina, stop. I’m gonna blow,” warned Graff, the strain evident in his voice and driving tension straight to my core.

I hummed and moved my mouth faster, bobbing up and down, swallowing him quicker, sucking harder. My pussy envied the fullness in my mouth, my throat, so I reached between my legs and flicked my clit with my free hand.

“Adelina,” he moaned.

I wanted to tell him to come, but that meant taking my lips off his cock. He was so rigid in my mouth I didn’t need my hand, so I cupped his balls.

“Shit, bella. I’m ah—” His head dropped backward, the beauty of his torso with the dim light glowing against the defined muscle and art consumed me. As I kept pushing him harder, I marveled at the gorgeous man I had under my control—the view of his clenching abs, rising and falling chest, all the way up to his neck and head had me mesmerized.

If it were the last thing I saw in life, that was fine, because I needed him to come apart for me. I adored every single grunt and groan he made. I wanted to show him how happy I was to have him here, so I didn’t lose myself tonight in desperate solitude.

With a howl, he came inside my mouth. His strong hips bucked, and his strength nearly knocking me aside, but I kept him firmly down. I took every last drop off his cum until my stomach stretched.

“Wow, Adelina,” breathed Graff. “That was . . .”

He didn’t need to say it. In fact, I wished he wouldn’t say anything. Drawing out his orgasm brought me to the brink again. I took him by the wrist, pulling him into bed with me. He snuggled up behind me, and I guided his hand down between my legs.