Their Queenpin (The Ridge MC #6)

Chapter 8Adelina

Chapter Eight

Adelina

While Graff didn’t speak, he did try to pull away, but I pushed my body against his. I curled my back into his front and held onto his arm as his finger dipped into my wet heat. I held onto his thick arm as his wickedly talented finger circled my clit.

My core was already clenching, seeking that flood of ecstasy just out of reach.

Graff kissed the back of my neck and whispered, “I don’t know what we did to deserve you, Adelina... bella.”

Hearing him call me beautiful in Italian sent me skyrocketing, the muscles in my body tightening and purring under his ministrations.

He kissed my neck again and continued, “You’re our perfection.”

I bit my lip and whimpered, my hips rocking forward as I rode his hand.

“A magical fit into our messy lives.”

“Oh, Graff,” I purred, losing myself in his sweet, sweet words.

“The puzzle piece Sas and I have been missing.”

“Yes, Sas!” I panted, my hips bucking now. “My husband.”

“Yes. And Rafe too.”

“Oh my God. Yes! All three of you.” My men.

Though it was very dim in the room, his breath on my neck and the friction against my tender core had me writhing and needing to let go. Desperate to feel my orgasm wash away the constant clashes in my life. Frantic for that moment when everything ceased to exist.

“Give us your pleasure, bella. For me tonight, but also for Sas.”

And I did. The simmering in my blood bubbled freely and came to a rolling boil, steam sending me soaring as Graff kept the rhythm even when I lost it. He played me like a harp singing to the heavens.

As I descended from the high, tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. All the stress and tension and the memories of my imperfect wedding day collided and then dissipated like a storm that’d run its course. A cleansing rain that left everything new and fresh, ready to face whatever came next.

I lifted my hand to the back of Graff’s neck, letting my fingers comb through the hair at the nape as I looked over my shoulder.

Our breathing mingled, our noses only millimeters apart.

I licked my lips, then softly begged, “Kiss me, Graff.” Before he objected, I added, “This was more than fucking, and you know it. Kiss me for you and me, but also for Rafe, and Sas.”

When he pressed his lips to mine, I felt his scowl, the way his face twisted with worry before he gave his all to the kiss. Together, we tumbled through a montage of emotion and grief. Of pain and healing. Of us.

* * *

“Adelina!” Rafe’s muffled voice filtered through my door.

Knock, knock, knock. True to his word, Rafe banged on my door first thing in the morning. “Adelina, you up?”

I groaned and rolled over, the weight of a thick arm still around my waist.

“Adelina?” Knock, knock, knock.

Graff groaned beside me, then trailed his fingers down my bare arm. “Better go before he busts in the door.”

I’d been sleeping like the dead—naked and smelling of sex—and I stretched like a cat in the sun.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Coming!” I stumbled out, wrapping myself in a blanket, and felt my way to the door. When I opened it, pushing the tangle of my hair out of my face, he held out a backpack with an insulated water bottle tucked into the side pocket. After I took it, he gave me a tray with two white cups from the hotel’s café.

“What time is it?” I asked in a sleep encrusted voice, hugging the backpack to my chest.

He ducked out of the room and grabbed a second backpack, placing it inside the door. “Six a.m. Meet me in the garage in half an hour.”

He started to turn away.

“Wait, Rafe.” I paused for him to look back. “Anything on Sas?”

“No change in the situation. Lanie says his arraignment isn’t until tomorrow, so we’ve got the day.”

“She’s up at this ungodly hour?” I took a sip from one of the cups, hoping the caffeine would get me moving if he expected me to be functional by six thirty in the morning. The perfect morning treat—a vanilla soy latte—with an extra shot coated my throat.

Rafe reached up and drew his thumb down my jawline, torment twisting in his eyes. “Check your phone. She texted us all sometime in the middle of the night.”

I yawned. “Isn’t there supposed to be some right to a speedy hearing?”

“It’s Sunday, tesoro.”

“Oh” was all I could muster.

“Get Graff up and you two get ready. Wear comfy shoes.” He hung his head and turned away.

“Lake Mead, still, right?” I asked.

Rafe glanced back with a sly smile. “Yes, and a couple surprises.”

A shiver started in my core and racked my body. Two of my three. I should’ve been thankful for that much, but it was hard. Still, it would be good to get away with them for a few hours and hopefully forget the machinations of the Mafia, cartel, and even the MC.

I admired Rafe’s stacked form as he walked away and the way his arms bowed from his body with his muscular back. It was so hard to believe he wanted me, and harder to believe my husband would allow it.

But I own it , Sas had said.

With a grin and knowing I would have to recount last night and the whole of today to my husband, I shut the door, ducked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower before going to wake Graff.

Less than an hour later, the three of us were sitting on the bench seat of the rusty truck while Rafe got us out of Vegas. He followed back roads rather than the highways as an ancient Lynard Skynyrd cassette tape played over the crackly speakers. We headed toward the lake. He took Lake Mead Parkway and veered onto Lakeshore Drive toward Hoover Dam.

“No Stewart’s Point?” I asked, confused why we were turning south rather than heading to the north side of the lake.

“Not today,” answered Rafe, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“The dam?”

“Nah. Better.” Rafe wore a smile that I hadn’t seen on him since his return from the Marines, like he was looking forward to something at long last.

“Okay, I’ll give you your secrets,” I replied, “because I like to see how whatever you’re hiding makes your eyes light up.”

His cheeks reddened. “Watch it, or I’ll turn around.”

“Man,” Graff interjected, “you’ve gotta learn to take a compliment.”

Rafe snorted, and Graff returned to his sketchbook. Every now and again he would glance up at the lake as though he memorized the view he was capturing on the page.

There wasn’t much on the way to the dam, but the views of Lake Mead were amazing. Away from the city, the rolling desert sprawled out to our right.

As long as I remained close to the city, it had always been easy to lose myself in the desert. The gently rolling hills topped with sage. The sound of the wind sweeping over the sand like the bristles of a broom. The flats speckled with cacti leading to jagged cliffs shooting into the sky.

I bet my father had “lost” quite a few people in the desert, but that’s not why I wanted to go. I wanted distraction.

The highway cut between the sea of sand on one side and the water on the other. Even in the early morning, the black tar shimmered with heat, and a mirage we would never reach danced in the distance. Rafe’s old truck rattled, and the air-conditioning wheezed, so Rafe shut it off and rolled down the windows.

The air was warm, but not scorching yet, and we flew down the lonesome highway. No motorcycles necessary.

The baby hairs around my face whipped into my mouth, and I swiped them back.

Graff’s thigh rested against mine for most of the ride. And his warmth calmed the itch to move as much as the desert did, but it also made me want something I shouldn’t when my husband was locked away.

Wherever we were headed, it was going to take far too long. The clothes on my shoulders itched, and I was ready to strip down to my suit before diving into the clear blue water. Hopefully, that would calm my want for the two men on either side of me.

We veered onto the interstate for a while until we passed the dam and then kept going. Eventually Rafe pulled off the highway and found parking near a trailhead.

I’d never been to this location, so glanced up at him. “What are we doing?”

He checked my feet. “Good choice.” Then he slid out of the truck and went around back to drop the tailgate.

Once we all had our packs secured, Rafe started walking, stopping at the large map and looking back.

I asked Graff, “Any idea what’s up?”

“No clue,” he answered, popping in one earbud, “but it’ll be an adventure, I’m sure.”

He took off too, and I followed. At the map, Rafe traced the trail. “It’s not too far, but I wanted to get an early start. Ready?”

Rafe led the way and Graff gave me an after-you motion.

“What’cha listening to?” I asked.

He held out the earbud case, and I popped in the second one. I hadn’t heard what Graff listened to in his private playlist, only the noise he played for the club. This had a unique and edgy sound, and the lyrics. I opened my eyes wide with surprise.

“Like it?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, yeah.” I pressed it into my ear to make out the lyrics.

His face split into a smile. “See I’ve got taste, after all.”

“It paints a vivid picture. The ground under feet. Losing yourself. Ravens.” It made me want to move, so I did. A little. “Who is it?”

“‘Dead Butterflies’ by Architects.”

Ah, there it was in the chorus.

“Hey,” called Rafe from the top of a hill up the trail. He held his hands out wide. “Coming?”

Graff tipped his head for me to go before him.

We hiked for about an hour, stopping every so often to down some water. The trail climbed into some rocky crags and descended between cliffs until we came to a series of pools, where Rafe stopped and dropped his pack.

There was absolutely no one else in the area, and the water in the pools was as clear as glass. A small waterfall drizzled over the boulders on one side. And amid all the rocks, there was even a tiny sandy beach.

I scurried over, dropped my pack, and kicked off my tennis shoes. They stayed in the sand and sun while I curled my toes into the loose grains, hitting the bedrock quickly.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I tried to let go of all the confusion in my mind as the day heated. Everything that happened yesterday collided, banging against my skull like the rattle of Rafe’s ancient truck. But this place, with these two men, and the clean water washed away the torment. If only briefly.

I had no escape from what had become of my life after my arranged marriage, and I didn’t even think I wanted to anymore. But I needed this pause more than I needed my next breath.

“Go on,” said Rafe, motioning to the pool where steam lingered on the surface.

I stripped out of my shorts and tugged off my tank.

“Adelina, wait!” yelled Graff somewhere behind me. “It could be dangerous.”

My whole life was dangerous. What was one more thing?

Rafe’s voice soothed him. “It’s not. This one is hot and the one downstream a little is cool. I used to come here to get away from, well, everything.”

The water warmed my legs up to the mid-calf as I walked in and turned around. “It’s perfection, Rafe! Why haven’t you told me about this place?”

“It’s mine. I didn’t want to share until...” He swiped his hand over his military cut.

“Until now,” finished Graff as he stripped off his boots and jeans then tugged his T-shirt over his head. “I’m going in.”

Rafe sat on a boulder.

“Aren’t you coming?” I asked.

“Not yet. Watch out though,” he said as I backed up. “It’s deep on that end. Over my head.”

I smirked at him. “I think we’re all in over our heads, but I’m a strong swimmer.”

Graff reached me and locked his arms around my center, dipping his head to kiss me under the ear. Despite the warm water, his hot mouth sent chills through my body all the way to my core. And then fire chased them away as my insides melted under his talented lips.

I started laughing, and Graff jerked back like I had slapped him. For some reason, I lost control, and the hysteria burst free from my throat. He didn’t release his hold on me, keeping me close to his chest. His breaths heaved and his cock hardened against my ass.

“What’s funny?” Graff asked.

“Nothing, really,” I managed through my giggle. “Everything. Rafe’s face. Yours.”

“My face?” Graff swept my hair away from my shoulder, and his breath gave me shivers. “Is this a joke for you?”

“No.” I pinched my lips tight, shaking my head. “No. This is a terrible situation.”

“Most of it’s terrible, bella. Has been for you since your father made this deal, yes?” He kissed my neck, distracting me. Then, he looked up, his stubble scratching my shoulder. “But not all.”

All the muscles in my body were weak, but I followed my sweet Graff’s gaze up to Rafe.

Graff held me from behind, almost supporting my weight, while Rafe stripped down to his trunks and waded into the water. A scowl tried hard to draw his brows together, but he fought it off and replaced it with a crooked, tentative smile.

I reached for him, not leaving Graff’s embrace, and Rafe waded over to us. His uncertain gaze flitted between mine and Graff’s. What had they talked about in this situation? Graff had pushed Rafe a little in the bridal chamber, and he’d made it clear that this was better than okay.

My gentle artist.

While Rafe still struggled, something had changed in him. It almost felt like one of his tethering strings had snapped. And between the tattoo stretching over his muscular shoulder and biceps and the smattering of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband, I went weak under the vision of him. As weak as he was tormented.

The corners of my mouth flooded, and I wasn’t sure if it was watering for these two men, or if the knot in my guts would win out and have me barfing in this clear water.

Silently, I held out my hand to him, and he stopped a few feet away. The sun kissed his bronzed skin, setting it aglow as he hesitated. His eyes dropped to my open hand, and he waited.

Graff ghosted his lips over my neck, but I didn’t take my eyes away from Rafe. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I could. I watched as his eyes seemed to go out of focus, the way they always did when he let himself get wrapped up in his past—either his outcast childhood or whatever haunted him from his time in the Marines.

“Hey, Rafe,” I said on a breath, intent on bringing him back to me. To now. When his pupils narrowed again, focusing on me, I smiled. “Is this your surprise?”

He reached forward, at last, and laced his fingers with mine, but still kept his distance.

“One of them,” he said, his voice strained.

“Is this where you came when you told Papà you needed a day away?”

Graff’s hand came around my waist, warm and wet on the front curve of my belly, and he pulled me back into his chest. As hard as it was, I fought to keep myself whole, to not melt into him like molten chocolate.

Rafe gave a tight nod.

“You don’t answer to him,” I said, referring to my father. His brother. A man who expected too much from us both. “You know that, right?”

He let out a breath through his nose, blinking slowly. “Everyone in La Famiglia answers to Don Parisi, tesoro.”

I opened my mouth to tell him no. That I wasn’t going to abide by that anymore, but even I didn’t expect the words that slipped out. “We aren’t La Familia anymore, zio. We’re part of The Ridge MC.”

The notion made me shudder, shock running through every cell in my body when I realized that I truly believed the words with all my heart. When we had been dropped off in Bou’s shop, my father, Don Gambino before him, and all the posturing became part of our ancient history.

A muscle jumped in Rafe’s jaw, and I tugged on our conjoined hands. Truly, he was a rock, and I had no hope of moving him unless he consented, but I waited for that shift.

“Tesoro?” He searched my face.

For what answers, I had no guess.

I had to fight to stay lucid as I endured the torture Graff was still putting me through with his rock-hard body and cock pressing into my back. It was a good thing I was standing in water to hide how needy my pussy felt... how she wept for the pleasure she anticipated at Graff’s hands.

And Rafe’s too, if he allowed himself.

“Come to me, Rafe,” I said, almost an order, but still leaving room for him to refuse.

“To us,” said Graff, reaching out and latching his hand around Rafe’s wrist, just above where I held his hand.

Rafe’s eyes shifted between mine and Graff’s.

“You two”—Graff squeezed me as he paused, and I suspected he did the same with Rafe’s wrist—“You’ve been together for years. Not like this, but with how you read each other, don’t you think this is inevitable?”

“Rafaele,” I said on a breath. “You said yes after Graff left my bridal chamber when you let me taste you. When I got on my knees for you and swallowed your cum in my wedding dress.”

His abs clenched.

Graff groaned behind me. “Damn. I knew I was missing out.”

To Rafe, I continued, “And I said yes when I asked you to remove the vibrator, and you made me come. You brought us—Graff and me—here, to your special place.”

Behind me, Graff pressed his hips forward, showing me as much as telling us both, “You two don’t know how fucking hot all this angst is.”

“You’re a married woman, Ade?—”

“And my husband said yes !”

Rafe’s brows climbed his forehead.

But heat flushed into my cheeks as I added, “As long as I, um, tell him...” I covered my face, the shame of having to narrate everything to my husband making me not want to face others. I would do it, though, if it meant having all my men.

“No fucking way!” Graff barked a laugh, then shook his head with a small, knowing smile. “That controlling bastard.”

I looked up at Rafe to see his face getting quite the workout, and it made me laugh too.

“What?” he asked.

I rolled my lips between my teeth.

Thankfully, Graff answered for me, “She’ll have to tell him everything we do to her. He gets off on that kind of shit.”

I lowered my chin, looking up at Rafe through my eyelashes and hoping it didn’t chase him away. He dropped his head back on his shoulders, the sun casting his features in an amber glow. His fingers tightened on my fingers, and without his eyes on me, I dropped my gaze to his crotch.

And yeah, he was standing at full attention. Perhaps I wasn’t risking making him run after all. I still had no clue how to make this thing with the four of us happen. All I knew was how much I needed every single one of these men to complete me, to be the different people I needed in my life.

Rafe was so strong. So stoic. So reserved.

And I needed him to break for me.

“Rafaele, sei mio per sempre,” I told him. You’re mine forever.

His eyes burned with black, coal-like fire as he pinned me with them. “Sì, sempre.”

The words came out on a guttural growl, and he pulled on our joined hands. Graff anchored me, so Rafe’s body came to us. His mouth crashed down on mine as they trapped me between two walls of muscle, hard and hot, and I gave in to the want. To the emotional need and physical desire for both their cocks—one at my front and the other my back. I lost myself in the warm and slightly bitter taste of Rafe.

His kiss carried years of our trying to stay at arm’s length, but now, I had him wrapped in mine while Graff held me steady. Our lips tangled, tongues danced, and I wrapped my arms around him. One hand threaded into his hair and the other held on to his broad shoulders.

The hard ridges of him, of them. The pressure of their bodies against mine. The smooth, velvet-like strokes of Rafe’s tongue, and the wet kisses from Graff on the nape of my neck. This was who we were or who we would be.

Minus one.