“Do not touch yourself. I’m the only one who’ll get you off,” I snarled. She shivered and I knew she’d be leaking by now. Fuck. The thought toppled me over the edge and I spilled my cum down her throat, holding her in place with a firm grip on her neck. I pulled her up to me, then rasped into her ear. “I’m still mad at you. That’s why you’ll have to go to sleep now without a second orgasm.”
She made a small sound of protest.
“Not a word, Valentina.”
“Dante—”
“No,” I growled.
I pulled up my pants and returned to bed. Valentina followed and stretched out beside me, watching me in the dark. She rubbed her legs together, obviously seeking relief and it was driving me insane, knowing how sopping wet she’d be.
Not saying a word, I parted her legs and thrust two fingers into her. Valentina clenched around me and arched up with a moan. Keeping my fingers inside her, I nicked her earlobe. “I’m too lenient with you.”
I pulled my fingers out of her, half tempted to shove them into my mouth to taste Valentina again.
“Can I taste myself?”
My cock lurched. This woman was so much more than I’d expected, so much more than I could resist.
* * *
In the following weeks, I fucked Valentina every night and engaged in polite but detached conversation, even as I craved more. I couldn’t explain the pull between us. This primal connection was new for me. It was something I might have been able to handle but the accompanying emotions for my wife caught me by surprise. I needed control, thrived on it, but around Valentina I often lost it completely.
Things in the Outfit were tense, so I couldn’t use my emotional instability in the slightest. Ever since Rocco had called me a few minutes ago to tell me Gianna had run away to escape the marriage with Matteo Vitiello, I needed a clear head more than ever. This could destroy peace with the Famiglia, could toss us right into a bloody war.
My fury threatened to spill over but when Valentina entered my office, her pale skin immediately distracted me from my turmoil. She looked sick. She had been feeling off for a while now but I hadn’t really paid much attention, still determined to keep my distance. Now my worry overruled my determination.
“You look pale. Are you still not feeling well? Maybe you should talk to the doc.”
She shook her head. “No, I…” Her eyes widened and she rushed out of my office. I quickly followed her toward the guest bathroom. She hung over the toilet and quickly flushed when I stepped inside. She tried to stand but swayed, so I grabbed her arm to stop her from falling.
“Valentina?”
She stumbled toward the sink and cleaned herself. Sweat glistened on her forehead. She didn’t look well. Had my dismissal led to her weakened state?
“I’m fine.”
She was lying. I followed her upstairs to our bedroom and touched her waist. “You know I hate it when you’re keeping secrets. Don’t make it a habit.”
Valentina swallowed and pressed a palm against her belly. Everything seemed to stand still when I realized what the gesture meant, and suddenly her constant sickness made sense.
“I’m pregnant.”
Valentina waited.
My insides were a raging ocean. The small sailboat of my joy at the news was soon tossed aside by the thunderous waves of my sadness, guilt, and anger. Carla and I had been trying to become parents. It had been her greatest wish, and I had been unable to give it to her. She’d died without ever holding her child in her arms, without ever experiencing the joys of motherhood.
And Valentina was pregnant after such a short time. Without a struggle. Without heartbreak. “Pregnant?” I asked.
“Yes. We never used protection, so I don’t know why you’re acting so shocked. Wasn’t an heir one of the reasons why you married me?”
“That was the reason why my father wanted me to marry again.”
“So you don’t want kids?”
“Is it mine?” Carla had assured me that her doctor hadn’t found anything obviously wrong with her. I had never gone to a doctor myself.
Shock and acute pain crossed Valentina’s face as she backed away from me.
“Answer my question.”
“Of course, it is your child. You’re the only man I’ve ever slept with. How can you even ask such a question? How dare you?”
Carla wouldn’t have lied to me. She had no reason to. Doubt nagged at me, and that only fueled my fury further. I didn’t want to doubt my late wife. “I’m not keeping track of everything you do, and there are many men who frequent the casino that wouldn’t say no to a night with you. You’ve made a habit out of keeping things from me. Do I have to remind you of Frank?”
“How can you even say something like that? I’ve never given you any reason to doubt me like that. I’m loyal to this marriage. There’s a difference between not telling you about Frank and cheating on you.”
“My first wife and I tried for years to get pregnant. It never worked. You and I have been married for less than four months and you’re already pregnant.”
“I don’t know why you act as if that’s impossible. If your first wife was infertile, then that’s your explanation. Have you never consulted with a doctor? Or did you think it was you who was infertile?”
“We never went to a doctor to find out why we couldn’t conceive. Not that it is any of your business. I won’t discuss my first marriage with you.”
“Too bad. We’re discussing it now. I know why you didn’t want to find out. You didn’t want to know the truth, because you worried it would make you less of a man if it was your fault that your wife couldn’t get pregnant. But now we know it wasn’t your fault. It was Carla who was infertile.”
Anger surged through me. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about Carla.”
“Why not? Because you still love her? Because you can’t move on? I’m sorry you lost Carla, but I’m your wife now.”
Valentina was right. Deep down I knew I needed to stop clinging to the past, but in this moment, I couldn’t. Anger at myself bubbled up, stronger than any anger I’d ever felt toward Valentina.
“I’m so sick of you treating me like a whore. You ignore me by day and come to me at night for sex. And now you accuse me of cheating on you? Sometimes I think you hurt me on purpose to keep me at arm’s length. When will you finally move on? Your wife has been dead for four years; it’s time you stop pitying yourself and realize that life goes on. When will you stop clinging to the memory of a dead woman and realize there’s someone in your life who wants to be with you?”
I stalked toward her, furious that she threw this at me. “Don’t talk about her.”
“She’s dead and she won’t come back, Dante.”
Acute pain pierced my chest at her words, making me want to lash out at everything around me. “Stop talking about her.”
Fear flashed in Valentina’s eyes. Fear of me, her own husband, but I was unable to apologize, unable to back down.
She raised her chin. “Or what? Do you want to hit me? Go ahead. It can’t possibly be worse than the knife you thrust into my back by accusing me of carrying another man’s child.” I was a brutal man, there was no doubt about it, but hitting Valentina was the last thing I’d ever do.