Dominance, Threatened, page 27
“Hey,” I start. “How do I get a face like yours on there? I want it to look like me, too.”
At that question, Vince starts explaining what a bitmoji is and how to make one. He helps me download the application, and together we spend close to an hour looking through each option to build a character that looks similar to me. By the time we are done, I’m yawning and Vince’s eyes are drooping.
“Let’s go to sleep,” I suggest.
Vince nods, adjusting us so that we are in our usual sleeping position: facing each other. This time, though, we are closer than ever and he brings one hand up to clasp mine in between us.
Somewhere between softly kissing each other and talking about what there is to see in Rome, we fall asleep with our faces so close we’re almost kissing.
My dreams are filled with scenarios of Vince.
One, we’re slow dancing at the wedding together, waltzing in and out of the crowd as our foreheads touch gently. Neither of us cares who is watching, and Phoenix has even given us a thumbs-up already. I should have known right then it was a dream because I don’t think Phoenix knows how to do a thumbs-up.
The next, we appear to be in some type of utility closet, and Vince is kissing all over my body. Our clothes are coming off, and I’m dropping to my knees to suck his length into my mouth this time. There is no hesitation in the movement which gives me even more confidence. The Italian man writhes against my mouth, letting me fuck him at my own pace as he stands there with a look of utter bliss. When he comes, the hot ropes fill up the rest of my mouth not already full of his cock, some spilling out and dripping down my chin.
Then, we’re wandering the streets of an unknown city, hand in hand, as Vince talks animately about something he finds interesting. Maybe it’s his compost, or the new defense move he found, or maybe he is just humming his favorite Taylor Swift song while swinging our interlocked hands to the beat.
I’m on top, thrusting in and out of him at a brutal pace, and he’s taking the pain and pleasure I give him, writhing and begging for more.
We’re in the kitchen, making pasta as he shakes a hand at me. I’ve done something to offend the pasta again, so I have to audibly apologize and ask for its forgiveness before correcting my mistake.
We’re spooning on the couch, and Vince slowly slides his hard cock between my legs and across my ass teasingly, our light moans filling the living room.
He’s sitting on my desk as we share our lunch, trying bites of each other’s food and wrinkling our noses at things we don’t like.
The gym, his apartment, work, the SUV, Phoenix’s jet, my apartment, Adam’s house, my office bathroom, my office elevator, the smoker’s area at my work building, under my desk, in my bedroom, in his bedroom, in his kitchen covered in flour and squished pasta dough . . .
My dreams are full of wonder and excitement and exploration and — best of all — Vincenzo Bernardi as he smokes menthol cigarettes, talks with food in his mouth, smiles beautifully, and shares the most passionate of touches with me.
I know there is a smile on my face for the entirety of those few hours when I sleep in Vince’s arms without a concern in the universe.
21 M’attizzi
Vincent Bernardi
“Cay,” I call softly while brushing some of his brown hair from his forehead. Sometime during the excitement of last night, or maybe just from sleep, Caiden’s hair had fallen from its usually perfect style. I’ve only seen his hair in disarray like this in the early mornings when we wake up together or from the occasional daytime nap on the couch, also where we wake up together. He doesn’t respond, so I raise my voice as loud as I dare. “Cay, you have to get up. Your friends will be waking up soon.”
At that, his gorgeous hazel eyes — more green and gold this morning than brown — blink open sleepily to look up at me from his place on my chest. I’m on my back, and our legs are a tangled mess under the sheet that hangs low around our waists. Despite only being in boxers, I can still feel a thin sheen of sweat trying to make itself known on my body. In addition to that, I can’t control my hardened dick as it nudges slightly against Caiden’s hip covered only by his thin pajama pants.
Last night’s adventures seem like a fantastical dream, and if Caiden hadn’t been here when I woke up, I would have thought that was all it was. I smile at the affirmation that it was, in fact, real. This handsome man asked me to kiss him, actually kissed me, flirted with me, and snuck away into my bedroom where we did things ‘just friends’ most certainly do not.
Fuck, my dick gets harder just thinking about it — thinking about Caiden returning the favor by wrapping those pink lips around me next time.
I’m a smart man, so I didn’t even give him the option last night. Uncovering a new part of your sexuality can be overwhelming, no doubt, so it seemed the best thing would be to introduce everything slowly.
At least, that’s what I try to tell myself.
There is still that uncertainty in my mind that we will only go so far before he turns around proclaiming his straight-ness once again.
I am well on my way to heartbreak, but the path is so damn irresistible.
“Good morning,” Caiden hums to me, a sleepy smile forming across his lips.
“Buongiorno,” I rumble in return. I know he likes when I speak my native language, and I watch as goosebumps rise along his arm thrown around my waist. As Caiden moves that arm, the side of it grazes my hard-on, and we both groan quietly. “Cazzo.”
Pink tinges on Caiden’s cheeks, but his mouth parts as he tries to take a steadying breath. “I should have made a move before this weekend,” he says ruefully. “This is torture.”
“You’re telling me.”
Only hesitating for a second, Caiden leans closer to place his lips on mine, delicate yet firm. He pulls back a second later with a sheepish look. “Morning breath,” he explains.
I don’t give a fuck, I think to myself, though I don’t say it out loud. We might both take that as an invitation to continue, and as it stands, he may still be caught coming from my room by one of the men in the plane cabin. “As much as I hate to admit it, you really need to get out. Unless you are wanting to explain the situation to my brother?”
I know the answer is no, but Caiden doesn’t make me suffer by saying it.
Caiden stretches as he stands, the pale skin of his abdomen pulling taught over the hidden muscles there, arms flexing behind his head. Before I can stop it, a strangled groan slips from my throat, and I roll to bury my face into the pillow beside me. “M’attizzi,” my complaint is muffled by the fabric against my mouth.
“What does that mean?”
“You turn me on,” I translate without moving. “You are killing me. You’re so sexy and as much as I love seeing my love bites all over you, I’m afraid I have to ask you to wear a shirt for the entirety of this weekend — a turtle neck sweater might be better, honestly. I might not be able to keep my hands and mouth to myself otherwise.”
The bed dips, so I turn my head to face Caiden as he sits. “You mean that?”
“Of course,” I say without a second thought. “Why would you even ask?”
He sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m attractive to most women, but . . . IamnotasmuscularasyouatalllikeyourabsareoutofthisworldandIfeellikeIneedtogotoagymorsomethingbecauseyouaretotally—”
“Cay, baby, basta, wait. I cannot understand what you are saying.” I try not to laugh because he seems to be having some type of insecure, serious moment, but his words are fast and mumbled and completely incomprehensible. Maybe if English was my first language, then I would be able to understand. But it is not, and I cannot.
Caiden takes a very deep breath. “You’re all muscles and abs, and I’m all . . . not,” he finishes lamely.
Choking down a laugh to not wake the guys in the cabin, I turn onto my back and prop myself up beside him, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out behind him. I let my bent leg fall to the side, revealing the large tent in my black boxer briefs. “Look what you do to me,” I murmur, then grab his hand and rest it in my lap. I make sure he doesn’t seem uncomfortable or like he wants to pull away, and to my delight, he spreads his hand across my dick. “Feel what you do to me, Cay,” I whisper.
His lips part as he draws in unsteady breaths. “But—”
Not liking this self-deprecating Caiden, I snap my hand up to his throat, grabbing tightly enough that he knows to shut the fuck up. “I find you so incredibly sexy, it keeps me awake at night — unless I have you in my arms. It takes double the amount of time to shower now because I know you’re just one room over getting dressed for work. Sometimes, I have to fuck my hand twice just to be able to walk out of that bathroom without a raging boner for you. You may not have as much bulk as I do, but I don’t have as much as my brother. I’m still attractive, right?” He nods. “See? You are attractive, and you’re attractive to me.”
“What about Theo?”
My brows furrow. We haven’t spoken about Theo, and I haven’t even seen him except in passing since I got shot. “Who gives a fuck about Theo?”
My hand still around his throat, Caiden has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Theo has that ethnic beauty, light eyes, soft ringlets, great cheekbones, and he is very muscular. You hooked up with him literally minutes after meeting him.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Vinz.”
I drop my hand and look away. “I hooked up with him because you hooked up with Ashlynn. Yeah, he is conventionally attractive, but I was just using him to get my mind off of you. Hell, I couldn’t even get you off my mind the entire time he and I were fucking. He could tell there was . . . tension between us and told me we shouldn’t hook up anymore. That was that.”
“But, you hooked up with him after minutes of knowing him, and I had to kiss you first.”
He’s looking down at the floor, not meeting my eyes, and this entire situation grates on my nerves. He has the gall to sit there and chastise me for moving too fast or slow when he made no effort to even make himself available to me. “Theo took one look at me and offered a fuck. Tell me, Caiden, are you gay?”
At my blunt question, Caiden’s eyes flicker to mine, then back down. “I don’t know,” he mumbles.
“So, you’re saying I should have tried to fuck you without even knowing if you like men? Do you hear how that sounds?”
“I like you.”
Fuck. Why did he have to go and say that? My frustration softens into something I can’t quite describe. “You didn’t tell me that before, or we could have avoided a lot of drama.”
✧
My sister, Gaia, is a real piece of work. She looks a lot like Phoenix, Dante, and me with dark hair and eyes and a tan complexion. At only 19, Gaia hasn’t decided on any specific path in life. She’s tried making and selling about any arts and crafts thing she can think of, she walked the neighborhood dogs for about a week, went to (and dropped out of) beauty school, and worked as a temp for, I believe, all of 6 hours. Most of the time, she frolics around our Mother’s house, picking the carefully planted flowers to wear behind her ear and tracking mud through the house after dancing in the rain like the main character of a movie. She spends too much money on shoes and clothes and is a terrible gossip.
Despite all that, my sister is the most kind-hearted, loyal, and trusting person probably in the entire world. She is always happy-go-lucky and easy-going, which is why I am so skeptical of this new fiancé.
It’s also why she can be the most annoying little sister.
After Caiden successfully snuck out of the jet bedroom this morning, we had to go back to ignoring each other completely. That means when we were made to sit beside each other in the limo Phoenix rented, we had to angle away and busy ourselves on our phones.
Which, as it turns out, wasn’t so bad as we simply messaged back and forth about practically nothing. Caiden did ask a few questions about my family, but it was all pretty basic with the smallest bit of flirting mixed in.
Everyone grabs their bags from the back when we arrive at the house before following Phoenix and me up the many front steps to an estate larger than any of the guys’ living arrangements back in the states — and that’s saying something. The family home is located a bit out of town with lots of rolling green hills dotted with wildflowers and has enough space to house the entire Bernardi family. Thankfully, our cousins and their families will be staying at an inn in the city rather than our house — apparently due to Phoenix bringing his buddies as Ma did not want to overwhelm them.
Gaia should have stayed at the inn.
The large, wooden front door thunders open, tiny hands coming into view as someone struggles to pull it quickly. With a chuckle, Phoenix extends one hand to assist our sister in opening the door without her noticing. Her petite form pops into view from the other side just as Phoenix drops his hand casually.
“I think I’m getting better at that,” Gaia pants with exertion, hands on her hips as she stares up at the large door. They have been living here for close to seven years, so how she still struggles with the front door is beyond me. Gaia lets out a ‘hmph’ that is a well-known sound of all of the Bernardi family — especially Phoenix — before her eyes raise to meet our humored gazes. She lets out a shriek that has the three non-Italian men wincing. She flies across the threshold to throw herself against me.
I catch her, barely taking a step back to steady myself, and drop my duffle bag to wrap my arms around her slim frame. They overlap by a lot, and I give her a tight squeeze. “You should be eating more, Gaia. You are wasting away,” I scold. She has always been so thin.
“Stop talking and more hugging,” her sweet voice sounds in my ear, and I listen. I swing her around for a second, then lower her gently back to the ground where she proceeds to grab my face and kiss both cheeks before pulling back to look around our group.
Almost immediately, she lets out another shrill cry and lunges at Phoenix this time (who doesn’t have to steady his large frame against her onslaught). Our brother releases his cold mask for a moment to hug her back, mumbling some greeting to her, and sets her back on her feet in less time than I did. She kisses his cheeks, too.
Gaia’s brown eyes move to Jackson next, and she squeals . . . again. She repeats the process while hugging and kissing each of Phoenix’s friends. Jackson gives his goofy smile and holds her just as tightly as we did — I’m pretty sure Phoenix lets out a warning growl at that despite how platonically Jax holds her. Adam stands like a statue without hugging her back, but that is nothing new for his socially awkward personality outside of work. Caiden gives a soft smile and hugs her somewhere in between what Jax and Adam both did, and for some reason, that tries to make my lips twitch up. I keep my smile internal rather than external, but meet his hazel eyes with a gaze of my own that I hope shows my appreciation.
It’s such a strange thing. Before the Gala — before meeting Caiden for real — I never expressed anything with my eyes. Actually, I tried not to show any expression unless it was basic stuff around my friends. I was a real Phoenix to people who didn’t know me and even to some who did.
I mentally reassure myself that I am still the intimidating bodyguard from New York, but here in Italy with my family, I can be the person underneath that is always being forced down. Here, I can show my energetic, jokester personality like I did when I was a kid. I can be me here, and that is something I have seriously missed.
“Gaia,” I say sternly to the girl dangling from Caiden’s neck long after he let go of her waist, feet wiggling in the air like she’s a kid excited for ice cream. “Get off of the man.”
Blowing a raspberry, my sister abruptly releases her hold and drops the twelve inches or so to the ground. I see Caiden flinch, starting to reach out to steady her before thinking better of it at Phoenix’s glare. “I know who they are,” she responds in English, head held high despite her struggle with the language. “Caiden, Adam, and Jackson.” Gaia points to each one as she correctly names them. “I am Gaia. It is very nice to meet Fenice’s friends,” she tells them.
“You don’t have to struggle with their language. I can translate for you.”
“Struggle?! Shut up, Vincenzo! I can speak English just as well as you!”
Gaia is also very proud.
Luckily, I told Caiden my name under my own terms before we got here because Gaia would have ruined that almost immediately. Maybe she didn’t know, which means Ma kept my struggles with Caiden to herself rather than gossiping to everyone. That would be nice for a change.
“Let me show you the house,” she tells the guys. “Fenice would only show you the many bedroom and the kitchen. I will show you all.” During her explanation, I remain quiet, shaking my head slightly. We can understand what she is trying to say, at least, but if she would let me translate, it would all go a lot faster and smoother. “Vincenzo will take your . . .” Gaia pauses, looking confused before grabbing my duffle bag from the ground and presenting it to everyone. “These. He will take them to your bedroom.”
“Bedrooms,” I correct with a glance at the guys, making sure they know they will not have to sleep in the same room.
Gaia drops my bag unceremoniously and slams her hands onto her hips. “You are lying. I am studying their language, and I know ‘your’ is singular, so bedroom would be singular, too!”
“I am not lying, Gaia,” I say in English, so the guys can back me up. “You were addressing all of them, so in this case ‘your’ is plural. ‘Bedroom’ would also be plural.”
“Stop embarrassing our sister,” Phoenix finally speaks up, growling words directed at me. “We all knew what she was saying. Gaia,” he addresses her. “Your English has improved very much. Please, lead the way. Vincent will take all the luggage.”
“Luggage! I cannot believe I forgot that word. Thank you, Fenice. Vincenzo, the luggage.” Her last words are snapped, and she turns with a hair flip that smacks me in the face.
