After Griffin made sure everyone on the flight to Verona knew it was her birthday, the crew threw a small party for her in first class. While she drank mocktails served from the airplane's private stash, Vincent told everyone the story about her first birthday when she climbed onto the table and launched herself into her cake.
As usual, my charismatic mate held the attention of everyone within earshot. One attendant named Daphne continued to flirt with him shamelessly throughout the trip. When we were making our final approach, I was this close to telling Daphne to bugger off without a parachute.
We arrived at our hotel late, so Vincent ordered room service at the concierge desk before we made our way up to the top floor. He'd reserved a two-room suite, giving Griffin her own bed and bath, which, of course, offered us the added perk of privacy. But that didn't mean the girl was ready to retire anytime soon. She was squeezing every minute out of her birthday before the clock struck twelve.
"I think it's the most beautiful city I've ever seen," she said as she stood at the large bay window. "The bridges here glow differently than the ones at home. I want to walk across one while we're here."
"I'll try to make that happen, but our sightseeing time hinges on the hearing." Vincent reclined on the couch, his laptop parked on his knees and his fingers working the keys. I was on the couch with Vincent, doing absolutely nothing. Griffin turned her eyes on him, her arms crossed stiffly at her chest. It was the first time she looked annoyed since her perky arrival that morning.
"I wish we didn't have to attend this stupid hearing. I don't want to see Boris."
While her complaint was aimed at Vincent, her gaze flicked to me, and I read her body language perfectly. She would choose me over her asshole of a great grandfather any day.
Vincent glanced away from his computer to let her know he was listening. "You don't have to talk to him, Griffin, but it will be good for him to see you. Maybe he'll find some humility."
"Not if I tell him his humility stinks."
"I won't condemn you for a slip of the tongue."
The two exchanged wily grins, and I chuckled under my breath. Vincent had an easy way with Griffin, and it had me imagining, not for the first time, how he might be with his own child.
Room service arrived, and we filled our bellies with excellent Italian hotel food. Then Griffin wanted to watch a funny movie. Vincent and I dozed on the couch, despite Griffin's laughter, and the clock read two-thirty when she finally announced she was putting herself to bed.
"See you in four hours. Sleep tight."
"I'll have breakfast delivered to the room at seven." Vincent told her as he helped me to my feet.
Griffin's tired eyes had enough life in them to flutter. "More room service? Excellent!"
She skipped out of sight, and we did the same. Ours wasn't quite skipping, but Vincent had a pep in his step as he escorted me to our king-sized bed.
"I've been wanting to do this to you all night," he said as he laid me down and prowled across the starched-white duvet. Caging me between his legs, he buried his face in my hair and took my earlobe into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. I could sense his readiness by the strong gollum scent that surrounded him, and I let it pull me under like a sedative. "How are you feeling?"
"Are you looking for a specific answer?"
He lifted his head, letting me see into those gray orbs. "I'm looking for the truth."
"I'm horny," I said. It was always the truth around him. "But I'm sure Griffin will know what we're up to."
Vincent didn't even raise an eyebrow. He just resumed his seductive play. "She has parents who sleep across the hall. I'm sure she's used to it. But if you'd rather we take this into the shower, the spray will muffle your cries of pleasure."
I saw him coming in for a kiss, so I figured he wasn't looking for an answer. It didn't matter anyway. At the first sign of my submission, Vincent slipped into predator mode, commanding my mouth with his urgent tongue, sucking me in like his last hit, and I lunged with my hips to grind against him. He reached for my zipper and I reached for his, and we stripped each other naked, barely coming up for a breath as we climbed out of bed.
The bathroom had been created from an endless slab of black and gold marble, and the shower followed the length of the room, with dual shower heads and bench seating. But I wasn't paying attention to The Savoy's gaudy taste, not while being seduced by a gollum wielding his weapon of pleasure. Vincent half-carried, half-tackled me into the shower, still holding me captive with his mouth, and when the water hit us, the blast of cold felt amazing.
Vincent finally broke away from my swollen lips to glance at the shower head. "Grab that." Happy to oblige his fetishes, I lifted my arms over my head and curled my fingers around the pipe. The hardness of the metal reminded me of Vincent, and I looked down to admire him. "You'll get your chance to grab that later," he said. "First, I'm going to make you come."
Oh, goodie.
With my hands over my head, and my toes barely touching the floor, Vincent kneeled in front of me and lifted my ass in his hands. I wrapped my legs around his neck, remembering the maneuver from our first hook and pulley session. His powerful shoulder moved under me as he adjusted my weight to one arm so he could use the other to stroke himself. Then he ravished my sex with his mouth, using his gifted tongue to pry open the bud and expose the tender petals. His skill compared to no man.
Suddenly, he was nipping on my inner thighs as his throaty moans grew louder. I moaned right along with him, while the voice in my head told me I better find my happy place so we could lose it together. Once I set my mind to it, Vincent's frenzied tongue triggered the fall, and I squeezed his head between my legs as the avalanche crashed over me in a muscle clenching release.
Vincent released too, but it was a feral growl, and he rather abruptly lowered me to my feet, leaving my sex desperate and quaking. "You're burning up," he said as he stood and unpeeled my hands from the shower head. "My tongue feels like it's been scalded by hot coffee. We need to take your temperature."
Dazed and a tad disgruntled, I let Vincent wrap me in a plush towel and sit me on the toilet seat. Before I knew it, he was sticking a thermometer under my tongue.
"I'd rather have thumthing elth in my mouth," I said around the tip. "I feel fine."
"Well, it wasn't the shower burning my lips."
I pulled out the thermometer to make an important point. "And you were stoking my fire pretty good there, chief." I glanced at his penis, dripping with water, still ready for playtime.
"Humor me, baby. Then you can have whatever you want in your mouth." Vincent gestured at the thermometer, and I slid it back under my tongue. When it beeped, he took it and squinted at the readout.
"Well?" I said. "What's the verdict doctor? Will I live?"
Vincent scowled and I knew I'd gone too far, but I felt fine and he wouldn't listen. "Your temp is normal, but your sex is like a furnace. Don't you feel it?"
I smiled up at him. "What do you think I feel down there? I'm still throbbing."
My crude remark had him smirking. "I deeply apologize for the interruption." He abandoned the thermometer to help me to my feet, and I let my towel fall to the floor.
"Back into the shower, then?" I reached for his thickness, sliding my thumb over the slick head, and Vincent claimed my lips, taking control once more.
The water exploded from both shower heads, filling the room with steam as Vincent made another pass over my body with his tongue, devouring my nipples as I slid my fingers through is hair. If it grew any longer, he could tie it in a ponytail. I felt him at my entrance, dragging his swollen head across the sensitive folds, teasing my pleasure center. And there I was, skating on the precipice again. I wanted him in my mouth, but damn this felt so good.
"I need to fuck you. Turn around and support yourself against the bench."
I followed his command eagerly, lifting onto my toes to meet him as he grabbed my hips. I nearly lost my balance as he pushed inside with desperate force, and he leaned over my back, burying himself between my legs as he let go of a guttural breath.
"Baby, you're so fucking hot." Vincent moved carefully, hissing through his teeth with each thrust, as if the action was painful. Then, without warning, he pulled out and slapped his hand over his length. "Change of plans," he said as he aimed for my ass and came between my cheeks. Even with the shower pummeling my back, his release felt hot against my aroused skin, making me wonder if he wasn't the one with the fever.
Turning me around, he pulled me in for a hug, pressing his check to my forehead, probably checking my temperature. "I've never felt anything like that. The heat from your body was literally boiling my balls. Don't tell me you didn't feel it, too."
"I felt a lot of things, but there was no boiling. Are you okay? Do you need first aid? I can give you mouth to dick resuscitation."
Vincent smirked at my remark, breaking through the sober pout he wore. "If you did that, we would never leave the shower."
"I'm game if you are."
~ ~ ~
Room service arrived promptly at seven AM, and Vincent was already working in front of his laptop, dressed like a CEO on holiday. His lapel pin was fastened to the left breast of his jacket, which didn't surprise me. He'd been wearing it with all his suits. Although it wasn't his father's; that one had disappeared at the time of Roberto's death, the replica did an adequate job of filling the gap. How would the magisters react to seeing it? Was Vincent trying to ruffle some feathers?
Griffin smiled over her plate when I walked into the room. "Reese is ready," she announced. "You can come eat breakfast now, Vincent."
Vincent hesitated as he tapped on his keyboard, then he glanced up to look at me, his eyes twinkling like morning stars, or was that just excitement from a merger he'd just made? "So, she is. Is that sweater new?" He made a show of checking out my pleated skirt and cable knit sweater ensemble.
"Yes. We bought it during my fashion show and coming out party at Todd's studio. You were distracted by Charlotte's legs, so you probably missed seeing this outfit."
"Who's Charlotte?" Griffin glared at Vincent, making no effort to conceal her judgment.
"A reporter whose legs I have no interest in," Vincent told her as he stood from the couch.
"But you used to, right? You dated this Charlotte?" Griffin pressed, still pinning him with the force of her overlarge eyes.
"Yes, I dated her, and now I'm happily married to the girl of my dreams." Vincent offered her his boy scout smile, which had me chuckling as I joined Griffin at the table.
"Let's give Vincent a break, Griffin. He's made excellent strides." I helped myself to breakfast as Vincent took his seat. He smelled divine. Better than the bacon I heaped onto my plate. Was it all the sex we'd enjoyed last night that had my senses piqued?
Vincent gaze flicked to me as he helped himself to his own breakfast, and I could swear he was thinking about the sex too. "I probably should mention that the hearing isn't the only purpose for our visit to Verona," he said. "The magisters will be nominating a number of candidates for the high magister position."
"Oh? So, Rudy doesn't want to stay in the amazing mansion on the hill? I'd take the position just for that privilege."
"Rudolph Montaglia has been Adamo's second for a long time. His son has already taken over as magister of his domus, and he is retired from battle. He has made it clear he does not want the position."
"Who are you going to nominate?" Griffin asked, scooting the last bit of eggs onto her fork with her finger.
"Unless he tells me otherwise, I'm going with George. I value his skills as a moderator, and we've never had a high magister from San Francisco."
"So, the high magister doesn't have to move to Verona when he's elected?" I said.
"No. When a new high magister is chosen, all related gatherings are held in the place of his residence. The house on the hill belongs to Adamo. He bought it several years back."
"Sounds like something he'd do, the self-righteous prick." My eyes snapped to Griffin the moment I heard my mistake, and true to form, she grinned at me.
"It's okay, Reese. I've heard worse."
Vincent's phone chimed, and he pulled it out to glance at the screen. As I watched his expression darken, my stomach tightened around the bacon I'd been shoving into it. "Well, it looks like the hearing may take longer than we anticipated."
"Why?" Griffin's mood darkened too as she shoved her empty plate away.
"Paolo Bourdain just arrived, and he didn't arrive alone. He brought Marco's mate, Manjari."
Bloody hell.
Not only was Paolo my uncle by birth, he was the father to my nemesis, Deidra Bourdain; a gollum willing to kill me to claim my mate. "Please, don't tell me he brought Deidra with him." I whispered the words, hoping nobody would hear me.
"No. Deidra is not with him, but Manjari is demanding her father be held responsible for Marco's disappearance. Apparently, she plans to ask for our help."
"Really? That's bold. Marco killed your father; a well-respected gollum magister."
"Marco is guilty of much more than that." Although he didn't have to look at me; I knew he was talking about my birth mom, he did anyway, because that was Vincent. "Manjari also claims she's in possession of a valuable item. She won't say what it is, but she hopes the magisters will take it in trade."
"Oh? There's not even a hint about what it could be?" I probed.
"Only one." He sucked in a breath, and it felt as though the air had left the room. "She has something that belonged to my father."