Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
He holds my hands behind my back and thrusts into me. I grind into him as he licks my tits and sucks my nipples before letting me ride again. I go fast, in a frenzy, my hands on his sweat-covered chest. I stare at every inch of his incredible skin, at the rippling muscles and stacked abs, and I’m in pure ecstasy with each movement of my hips.
“God, yeah, what a good girl,” he moans as I move faster. “You want to ride me until you get every drop of cum, don’t you? You want me to fill you to the brim, you filthy fucking girl.”
“Oh, fuck, Davide,” I gasp as I grind harder, riding right on the edge of orgasm. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours. Tell me, please.”
“You are all mine, baby,” he says, thrusting and moving with me. “And I am all yours. Every inch of me, and every inch of you. We’re in this together now, baby, and I’m going to fuck you nice and deep until you come for me like the filthy, dirty little slut you are.”
That throws me over the edge. The orgasm washes over me and I come in a wave, unable to control myself as he keeps fucking me, merciless and gorgeous, like a demon made to pull all my triggers. He gasps, holding my hips down, burying his cock inside of me, and I feel him come in thick spurts as my pussy clenches down around his shaft, and I don’t care if this is an incredibly stupid idea, all I want is him.
I collapse into his arms, breathing hard, my heart racing. He kisses me and holds me there, cock still between my legs, staying hard for a surprisingly long time. But eventually, he cradles me in his arms and we go upstairs together, up into the shower. He washes himself, cleans off the smell of sweat and smoke, and he kisses me while he does my back and face, his gentle hands exploring me. It’s both intensely erotic and wildly intimate, and when he towels me off, I have to stop and kiss him just to remind myself that this is real.
We end up in bed together, his arms wrapped around my body.
“I want you to know something,” I tell him as I start to drift again, feeling relaxed and satisfied. Talk about being fucked into submission. “I know it’s hard for you, but you can tell me things if you want to. I won’t ever judge you. We’re partners now, right?”
“You’re right, baby,” he says, hugging me closer. “Let me take it slow, alright? Just let me take it slow.”
“As slow as you need.” I nestle in closer and shut my eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the safety of his arms lull me back to sleep.
Chapter 26
Stefania
I really start to ease into life in the oasis over the next week.
It’s not perfect—that supposed work-from-home job hasn’t materialized yet, and Davide’s work hours remain erratic—but it’s starting to feel like home. I’m even allowed to go for walks around the block as long as there are at least two guards watching over me at all times, which Elena says is pretty standard for the main family. I’m not exactly feeling like this is my ideal home and I still miss Philadelphia and my family like crazy, but at least I’m more used to living in a house that’s basically just two giant rooms.
And things with Davide are… good. Inconsistent, but good. When he’s around, he’s extremely attentive. His hands are constantly on me, and all he wants to do is shower me with compliments and fuck me until I’m sore. Which is honestly kind of amazing, because not only does that man have a beautiful, magical dick that makes my brain turn to prickly slime, but he’s also the greatest cuddler in the world.
Seriously. Davide Bianco, scarred and burned mafia enforcer, so fucked up from whatever trauma he’s still trying to process that he can’t handle walls, is really good at cuddling. It’s like the guy comes inside of me and suddenly turns into a puppy dog, and it makes me suddenly believe in guardian angels, because someone’s got to be putting in a good word with the big guy upstairs. Nobody’s supposed to be this lucky.
I’m humming to myself one afternoon, messing around with a flower arrangement that I bought from a nearby florist and wondering if Davide’s going to come sweeping into the house with a wild stare and a big old hard-on like usual, when there’s a banging at my front door.
Which is probably not my husband.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel to dry them before hurrying over. Nobody gets into the oasis, not even delivery drivers or the postman—all that stuff gets dropped at the corner and the Bianco soldiers deliver it themselves. Which means whoever’s knocking is either family or Famiglia.