I took advantage of that, turned all my focus on her, then when she was a weeping, filthy mess, I pulled away from her completely, leaving her pussy and ass empty, leaving her wriggling mindlessly, needing what I wasn’t giving her.
Taking away her orgasm before she could have it.
Pleasuring her but never letting her tip over the side. A sharp and undoubtedly cruel contrast to the inundation of climaxes I’d bestowed upon her yesterday. Every action had an equal and opposite reaction, after all.
"Aidan!" she cried out, grinding her sopping wet pussy against my dick, able to do so now my hands weren’t down her pants.
"Get yourself off, little one," I directed, watching her eyes flare wide open at that.
But as she sensed my resolve, her hands went to my shoulders, and she did as I ordered. Riding my erection through the fly as fast and with as much pressure as she could add to it.
As she rocked against me, her breathing grew frenzied, and I reached for her tits, tearing open her blouse so I could see them jiggle. When her hoarse cries filled the room, I slipped three fingers into her mouth, loving how she sucked on them while she got herself off.
Hips bucking with her wild moves, I watched the show, delighted in her as she came, letting her follow through with the aftershocks too, savoring every moment.
When she slumped against me, momentarily spent, I held her to me for a second, squeezing her before I let her go, maneuvering her so that she was ass up, face down in the cushions.
Amused that she didn’t argue, I got to my feet, grimacing after the day’s strenuous activities made themselves known in my knee.
Damning the joint to hell because it made sex so fucking awkward, I twisted her some more so that I had better access, grinning when she just let me.
God, if she was this pliable in real life, it would be much easier. I already knew I had a nightmare ahead of me when it came down to keeping her safe in the future, but when it boiled down to getting her to behave how a good, proper mob wife should, I’d embrace her crazy and make it work for us.
She was worth the shit I’d get in the long run.
Tearing her pants open wider, I revealed that sweet ass of hers. Peeking between the baby pink folds of fabric, it made her pussy lips all the darker, especially now they were flushed with color, the succulent and juicy flesh an array of reds from her orgasm.
The urge to taste her was immense, but I wanted her ass. Fuck, I wanted it bad. Even if I couldn’t have it all as I had no lube, I wanted some of it. Some piece of it to take as my own.
Knowing I wanted to see those cheeks turn pinker still, I didn’t stop until the hole I made in her seat was big enough for her butt to peep through in its entirety, that was when the slickness of her cunt called to me, so I unfastened my cock, finally releasing it from its prison, and slipped it through her folds.
A shaky breath squeaked from her, followed by a high-pitched keening sound as I tortured us both. When my dick was slick, I pushed it home, while with my other hand, the clean one, I gathered her juices and used them to fuck her in the ass.
As I pounded her from behind, making sure to stretch out that hole good and well, I curved them down, digging them into my dick while I used my other hand to spank her.
With each thrust, I tapped that booty, making sure to get it pink and blotchy, and that mewling sound just fired on and on, the note hitting something inside me, resonating in a way that made me speed up.
Fucking her how I needed, loving that she took everything I had to give, I screwed her until the disastrous evening was nothing more than a memory.
Until all I saw, felt, heard, smelled, and tasted was her.
Always her.
And hadn’t it been that way since the first time we’d met?
Always her?
I moved faster, harder, slicing into her softness, feeling it welcoming me, beckoning me where I belonged—home.
This was home.
Her.
Her cunt.
Her warmth.
Her fucking heart.
And it was mine. All mine. No fucker else’s.
Unable to stop myself, I ceased spanking her and instead, grabbed her hair in a tight grip and forced her to sit up on her knees. She squealed as she straightened, and I grabbed her by the throat, being careful not to break her necklace, pinning her to me, my front to her back as, deep in her ear, I rasped, "Who do you belong to, little one?"
"You!" she screamed, detonating around me, coming so hard that I saw fucking stars as she drew me into the darkness with her.
Together, we exploded.
Together, we burned.
Which was, all told, pretty fitting for the life we were going to lead.
That was why, as I panted through my release, feeling the aftershocks settle deep in my bones, adding to my tiredness while also revitalizing me, as we both fell into the sofa, me wincing as it hurt my knee, her flopping into the cushions, I whispered in her ear, "Marry me?"
Drunkenly, she replied, "Only if you’ll wear a ring."
I smirked as she hummed Beyoncé’s All The Single Ladies.
"You liked it so you want to put a ring on it?" I asked dopily.
"Exactly," she slurred.
A thought occurred to me. "Where’s my necktie?"
She turned into me, twisting so that we were still joined, barely, hooking her leg over my hip, as she muttered, "I cut it off," before promptly falling fast asleep in my arms.
I might never see the heaven that Da was so obsessed with, but here, now, I knew this was as close to heaven on earth as I could be. I was more than okay with this being the only one I ever got to visit so long as I had it for the rest of my life.
Didn’t mean I wouldn’t tan her ass for ruining another necktie though.
Smiling, I closed my eyes and finally found some peace of my own.
Forty-Two
Aidan
"I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Your father must really have liked that gift of mine, hmm?"
Not bothering to turn around, I kept my face averted, gaze fixed on the outside world as I peered out of a window that had more grime on it than the floor beneath my feet. I meant it too—this was regularly cleansed for DNA. The window evidently wasn’t.
"Sometimes, a gift just keeps on giving, doesn’t it?" I replied.
"Heard on the news that the cathedral got torched. Your church as well." Valentini strode toward me, moving to stand opposite me before he leaned against the wall. "They’re saying that a charred skeleton was found there."
"I wonder whose bones they could belong to?" I questioned, finally catching his eye.
He grinned at me, and after sharing that smile, I took the opportunity to take a glance around the warehouse he’d agreed to come to, and to check out his men.
They were edgy, one kept flicking a knife in his hand, and though the blade was tucked inside a sheath, he was clearly nervous about being on Irish territory, in a place where bodies routinely had a habit of entering but never exiting—at least, rarely in one piece. Lean and tall, his agitation made him the focus of my men too.
Brennan was warily watching him like he was about to throw that knife, while my brother’s hand had tunneled into his pocket where I knew he was probably palming his own switchblade.
The other Italian was stocky, his features blunt, his eyes dark, but his expression was blank. Enough that it drew my attention.