When Judge Hartford looked up, his heavy jaw was tight with resolution. “When can you make the introductions?”
Twenty-Nine
Dante
Free.
Libero.
Judge Hartford had returned to court looking mighty and solemn, Midas passing judgement at a tribunal in the Underworld. He knew I was guilty of crimes he had no evidence of and he was loath to see me walk away a free man, but in the end, his greed won out.
And he declared a mistrial.
I had Elena in my arms in a heartbeat, one hand fisting too hard in her lush hair, the other pressing her lower back to bring her hips flush against mine.
I kissed her like I was drowning because after a month without her lips on mine, her scent in my nose and that long body pressed to mine I felt like I was dying.
I drank from her, crushing out lips together so tightly I couldn’t breathe. But we didn’t need air. Everything I needed was in this woman. In her grace and immutable strength, in her loyalty and her undying love. In her willingness to do anything to see me free.
“Sei magnifica,” I rasped against her lips as I dragged in a deep breath. “You are so fucking magnificent.”
She laughed, her hands threading through my hair, stroking almost manically like she couldn’t get enough of the feel of him. “I feel magnificent because you’re free. We’re free of this.”
“Because of you.” I kissed her again, hard enough to bruises, secretly hoping it would leave a stamp of my possession in its wake. “My hero.”
She laughed again, tipping her head back so all that red hair went cascading over my arm and down her back. I stared into her face, blinking at the sheer beauty of her joy as it moved through me and tangled with my own keen happiness.
Around us, the clack and click of shutters sounded like crickets in a field.
“Ti amo, lottatrice mia,” I said each word like a vow.
“Ti amo,” she responded instantly, before pulling my head down by my ears so she could kiss me herself. “Chi vuole male a questo amore prima soffre e dopo muore.”
Whoever is against this love, suffers and then dies.
I growled as I sealed out lips again, eating the victory off her tongue.
We were so close to whatever kind of happily-ever-after two anti-heroes in love deserved.
Two villains down––Rocco Abruzzi and Dennis O’Malley––, and one to go.
I fucked her in the car.
It didn’t matter that Adriano was driving and would clearly hear what we were doing in the back of the Town Car. It didn’t matter that the windows were tinted, but anyone passing by might catch a glimmer of sweet golden flesh or raspberry nipples.
I hadn’t been inside my wife in a month.
In fact, I practically tossed her into the backseat, her back hitting the far passenger door. Instead of righting herself, she rucked up her skirt and let her legs fall open, exposing the thigh high stockings, black lace garter and thong I’d bought her from La Perla for Christmas to wear for me when I was free.
“Come here, Capo,” she said, her voice husky and her cheeks already flushed.
I moved into the car, slammed the door behind me, and fell on her like a crocodile surging hungrily from the swamp, snapping her up in my grasp.
I ate at her mouth, biting at those lush lips, one then the other before plunging my tongue into that sweet heat, rubbing it against her own, her teeth and gums. There was this ferocious, building need in me to own every single inch of her.
To remind her who made her body sing.
One hand went to her throat, needing the feel of her pulse thumping madly against my thumb. The other went between those splayed thighs cupping her pussy over the lace.
She was already wet.
The heat and stickiness seeped through the fabric to coat my palm.
A savage groan ripped through my throat. She echoed it greedily, clutching my head tightly.
“Fuck me,” she begged shamelessly, eyes flashing with the demand. “Fammelo sentire dentro!”
I want to feel you inside me.
My fingers curled into the lace of her panties and tore. She gasped against my mouth as cupped her mound again, sliding two fingers straight to her depths.
My hand tightened on her throat just slightly as I reared back to watch her writhe on my fingers, pumping them with ruthless precision against her sweet spot. She panted, her nails catching at my forearms as she held my hand to her throat, pressing even hard so her breath strained through her lungs.
“Dio mio,” she cried breathlessly.
I bent down to take that swollen, pink clit between my lips and sucked hard, moaning at the taste of her honeyed juices.
She broke apart.
Spectacularly.
Completely.
Her limbs flailed against the seats, her hips jacking up into my mouth as her cum seeped down her thighs, pooling beneath her ass on her seat. I shifted my mouth to her entrance, lapping up the wet leaking from my gently thrusting fingers. She shuddered, moaning my name like a prayer.
Her taste in my mouth, her scent in my nose and the feel of her coming for me, knowing she had never done the same for anyone else broke my civilized veneer in two.
I surged up from her pussy, open my pants with one hand, and fisted my cock. It was leaking, practically dripping precum like a broken faucet it. I pulled hard on the shaft a few times, slicking it with the wet. I was so hard, my steel under the hot, pink silk of my skin.
“Apri le gambe.”
She opened her legs.
“Più ampio.”
Wider.
She spread them as far as she could in the narrow space. Her pussy glistened in the cold winter light spilling into the car, pink and swollen as a fruit about to drop from the vine.
I notched the head of my cock at her entrance and warned, “Ti scopero’ fino a farti esplodere di piacere.”
I am going to fuck you until you explode.
I curled my arm around her upper back, my fingers curved around the opposite shoulder for leverage while the other found her throat. Her eyes were wide and dark as fire smoke.
I thrust to hilt inside that snug little cunt.
She cried out, neck arching as I set a punishing pace. She was so unused, so tight that even as wet as she was I had to drag my length in and out of her, friction on every stroke.
She felt like heaven on earth.
My mouth ran as I fucked her, telling her all the things I’d dreamed of in the dark of my prison cell.
“Love this tight pussy, Lena. You were made to take my cock.”
“You feel s-so huge,” she confessed on a broken sob, her hips writhing away from me.
“Take all of it,” I demanded, thrusting her down on my dick, grinding into her until she yelped and moaned then begged for it all over again. “This is my cunt, isn’t it, cuore mia?”
“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly, her legs quivering as I drove into her again and again. “Every inch of me.”
“Si, sei mio,” I growled as my heat sparked in my gut and spread like a wildfire through my veins. “You are mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to protect. Mine to love.”
“Sempre,” she cried out, eyes screwed shut as she began to shake.
Always.
I bent to seal my lips over her pulse, moving my hand to the other side so I could feel it on my tongue and my thumb. My teeth sunk into the elegant column and, like a trigger on a gun, she exploded.