Sophie falls asleep from her adrenaline crash shortly after we take off. After carefully removing her jacket and leaving her in her T-shirt because the plane is warm, I don’t move during the flight, trying not to wake her. She needs her rest for when we land and meet my family. Plus, she needs her rest for what I have planned for her.
Andro gives us whatever privacy he can on the plane. Not that Sophie needs privacy to sleep, but I want her to myself as much as I don’t want to disturb her.
When we land, and the plane stops at the hangar, I tilt her head, rub my thumb over the sensitive spot behind her ear, and my lips trail over her jaw. She shivers and shifts. Curled like a cat against me, she rubs her thighs together as if she’s seeking my touch there. I smile against her skin, pleased by her reaction to me, even while she’s still asleep.
“Creed.” My name is the softest whisper, floating from her lips right into my heart.
“Angel,” I whisper back, licking along her jawline until I meet her ear. “I’m going to devour you later…” Her hitched breath tells me she’s finally awake. “But first, we have things to do.”
I’m not a good enough man not to feel arrogant satisfaction at the want and need on her face when she looks at me, but I won’t do anything to appease that right now.
Technically, I could order everyone off the plane and ravage her on the sofa, but I’m not going to. Because I want to torture her a bit; I want her need and want to increase. After all, she’s denied us for four months, and that can’t go unatoned. But her punishment will be delicious for both of us.
“Come on, angel.” I stand, adjusting my throbbing cock in my pants, and pull her to her feet.
She sways, both from still waking up and from her arousal. I drag my thumb over her shirt and the lace of her bra, feeling her taut nipple underneath. Her eyes are locked on mine, completely under my spell.
Leaning down, I touch my lips to hers, pleased when she instantly parts them to receive my tongue. But I don’t tongue fuck her like I want to. Instead, I suck on her full pouty bottom lip and pull back, grazing it with my teeth as I do so, making her shiver again.
“I want you so turned on that I’ll be able to smell you,” I say huskily, and her cheeks pinken. “I want you to feel the wetness you get only for me, soaking your panties.” Her breath hitches again, making me flash a smug smile. “I want to see your hard-rock nipples through your shirt, knowing that your tits are waiting for me. To touch, play with them, and to make you come without even touching your perfect, pretty pink pussy.”
She closes her eyes, leaning against me, and moans.
“But first, you’re going to meet my family, angel.”
Her eyes fly open in shock and a little horror, which makes me chuckle like the dick I am because she’s turned on. Horny as hell based on how she’s rubbing against me without even realizing it.
“I can’t… not like this, not right now.”
I lift her hand and graze my lips over her palm. “Yes, you can… like this, right now. Because you’re. My. Good. Girl.” I know how my calling her that affects her.
She groans, closing her eyes. “Don’t add to this, you bastard.”
Taking her hand, I rub it over my rigid length, just barely keeping control and not unleashing the beast from its cage to sink into her wet heat. “This is yours, my cock, every drop of my cum. It’s yours and only yours.”
“Forever and ever. Amen.” She licks her lips, looking at her small hand over the big bulge in my pants.
“We’ll meet the family.” I pull her hand from my aching cock, lift it to my mouth, and bite the tip of her finger I’m going to put a ring on soon. “Then I’m going to reclaim that perfect cunt.”
Her blush deepens at my vulgarity and her pupils dilate even more.
She’s such a paradox—a sweet, innocent angel mixed with a siren who loves the dirty and naughty. And I’ll embrace that.
I want to drench her in my cum, a nice cream pie right on her pussy, then have her walk around in beautiful, expensive clothes with my cum still coating her skin. I want her marked with my seed, my essence, my scent, all while looking like the innocent angel.
“Come on, angel.” I help her into her jacket, then kiss her lips chastely, hold her hand, and lead her from the plane.
Massimo’s armored Rolls Royce waits for us, parked next to the plane’s steps. Andro’s already in the vehicle, and Gabriele opens the back door, and I usher Sophie inside. A console separates the back seat. My big brother is still single and doesn’t have a woman he wants easy access to with the big bulky console in the middle, but the seats have leg rests.
“Thanks, Gabriele,” I say as he climbs into the driver’s seat.
He turns around, his eyes curious on Sophie. “I’m glad you all made it here safely.”
“Angel, this Gabriele, he’s a close family friend.”
Sophie flashes him a shy smile. I can see her hesitant uncertainty despite hiding it well.
“Hello, Miss Sophie, it’s a pleasure.”
“Just Sophie is fine,” she replies quickly, her unease at any formality of title or position within my family obvious. But she’ll have to get used to it because she’ll be a member of the Santoro family. Even if she and I have nothing to do with the criminal underworkings, the respect and power are hers to own and take.
Reaching over the console, I take her hand. She turns from the window and lifts her beautiful eyes to me—they’re sad and haunted. Her father—whatever his intent is or role with Morales that he’d risk his life by pissing off his cartel, who’s most definitely not the kind of employer to piss off—had come for her, sent men, aimed a gun at her. She stares at our intertwined hands, looking like the weight of the world is on her, and I remember that she wanted to tell me about her father.
“Whatever you want to share with me, angel,” I remind her.
“After my mom died…’ Her gaze rises to meet mine as I rub my thumb over the back of her hand. ‘I sought out my dad. I-I think he intended to give me to one of the lieutenants in his cartel. That’s why I never had contact with him again.”
Andro turns to look at me, and Gabriele meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. My jaw clenches, and my nostrils flare, but I don’t react otherwise.
“I was frightened he’d come to my grandparents’ home and grab me before I left for school. I felt safe here. I was stupid to think that… that he’d never come for me.” She squeezes her eyes shut.
“His days are numbered, angel.” Her gorgeous orbs fly to mine. “I will end him if I have to, Sophie.” I’ll do anything, break whatever fucking law I have to, to protect her. “However, I’m certain the Garcia Cartel will do that work for me.”
“Bane and Army said he entered another cartel’s territory,” she says.
My jaw clenches, wondering what else they let spill.
“Why would he do that?” She searches my face as if I might hold the answer. “It makes no sense.”
“Did you know that Morales and your father have a connection?”
“No.” She frowns. “They’d be similar ages, but Manuel Morales wasn’t from my home community. Not that I knew of.”
“Yet he’s a huge benefactor and makes big donations there,” I say. It might be a way to clean dirty money. “Has he always?”
She chews her lip. “I’m not sure. But he has really stepped up his game in the past five years, especially with the churches and groups with a youth focus.”
Reaching over, I press my thumb to her bottom lip, pulling it free from her teeth. “That’s mine to bite,” I say quietly, biting back my smug smile when she shifts in her seat and rubs her thighs together again. Her physical reaction to me and my dominance provides endless satisfaction; however, I know her lip-biting right now is because she’s overwhelmed.
She’s understandably upset by the ordeal she’s been through, likely rattled that she and I are starting up again, and more than a little nervous that we’re headed to my family.
I thread our fingers together and lift our hands to kiss her knuckles. Sensing she needs quiet right now, I don’t push her to talk as we drive through the city.
As we approach my family’s estate, we drive through Presidio Heights. The tree-lined streets offer a scenic view of the Tudor and Victorian-style houses.
Sophie watches intently out the window as Gabriele keeps driving. My family’s estate was several properties bought together by my great-grandfather, who built a gated, setback mansion on expansive, landscaped grounds. Sophie’s eyes are huge as we pull through the guarded high gate—the security measures, the guards, and the sheer size and richness of the place are a lot to process.
As the house comes into view, she turns to me, her throat bobbing and her eyes panicked. “I can’t do this, Creed. It’s too much.”
The wealth, the security… It will remind her who and what my family is, shoving that in her face.
Gabriele parks in front of the house, and he and Andro slip out of the vehicle silently.
I cup her chin. “Look at me, angel. Breathe.” I take a deep breath, which she mimics. “It’s just a house, just a yard. And they’re just people.”
“But they’re…”
“They’re my family. That’s all. Just start there. They’re Gina and Tommaso Santoro, Creed’s mom and dad. Massimo and Vito are my brothers. That’s it.”
“But my family… They’ll…”
I lean over, pressing my lips to hers softly. “We’ll figure it out, Soph. I promise. You’ll have me and your family.”
She kisses me back, then leans her forehead against mine. “What if your family hates me? I’m nothing like the woman they probably hoped you’d marry. I’m not an heiress or some fancy bitch.”
I laugh, taken aback. She rarely curses unless I’m denying her orgasms—then she has the mouth of a sailor. Her reference to marriage also takes me aback and makes me want to do backflips that her mind is pushing toward that track already.
“They could never hate you because you’re the woman who has my heart.” I kiss her forehead. “Forever and ever. Amen.”
She keeps my lips pressed to her forehead as she holds my face tenderly, her thumbs resting on my pulse points.
“Let me come open your door,” I say huskily, then get out and move around to her side of the car. She slips her hand into mine, reminding me how everything about her fits perfectly with me.
My family will know we’re here and will be waiting inside. I’m thankful they didn’t rush out, giving Sophie time to get her bearings.
Climbing the steps to the front door, I open it, keeping her close to my side as we enter. As I suspected, my family is waiting.
Mamma takes one look at Sophie, then at me, and her hands fly to her mouth as her eyes fill with tears. “Mio dolce bambino. Il tuo amore per mio figlio è così evidente e vero. Come il suo per te.”
“English, Mamma,” I remind.
“It’s okay, Creed.” Sophie looks up at me, then back to Mamma. “I understood ‘my sweet child’ and ‘your love for my son.’ I could understand the ‘evident,’ but I lost the rest, I’m afraid. I might be able to catch it if you repeat it slower.”
“You’ve been learning Italian?” I ask Sophie in shock.
“A bit.” She blushes and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “There are a lot of similarities with Spanish.”
But it is a huge deal to me. And to Mamma, because she bursts into tears and gathers Sophie close, wrapping her up tight.
Papá chuckles. Sophie sneaks a look at him, still crushed in my mom’s hug, and holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Sophie.”
The man whom people equally respect and fear, the man who has reigned and grown our family’s power and wealth, who has made hard choices of whether someone is to live or die, who has cut down our enemies with his own hands… That man nearly crumbles before our eyes. The softness he only ever shows to Mamma he bestows on Sophie.
Cupping her cheek, he says, his voice thick with emotion, “I know who you are, mia dolce ragazza.” My sweet girl. “Welcome.”
Massimo steps forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you finally, Sophie.”
Mamma relinquishes her hold on my girl, and Sophie faces my brothers. Slight wariness appears as she looks Massimo over. He’s a serious-looking dude, not to mention his size and the power that rolls off him.
“It’s nice to meet you finally, too.” Her voice is soft but steady. “Also, thank you for calling in a favor and having Bane pick me up.”
Massimo smiles and nods. Vito steps closer and holds out his large, scarred hand, and Sophie doesn’t hesitate to take it. “Glad you made it safe and sound, Triple S.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Triple S?”
“Yeah, for sweet, sexy—” Vito grunts in pain when I punch him. “Okay, sinfully… Ow, you motherfucker.” He tries to glare at me but laughs. “Stunning.”
“Let me guess, the third ‘S’ is for Sophie, yeah?” she asks, and Vito nods, laughing again at my possessiveness. “How about Spanish, then?”
Vito tilts his head, eyeing her. “Sweet Spanish Sophie… I can live with that. Welcome to the family, Triple S.” He grabs both of us and clamps us to his chest.
When Sophie bestows a content, happy smile on me, the last ravaged piece of my heart and soul is stitched back into place.
