The Rocchetti Queen (The Rocchetti Dynasty Book 3)

by Bree Porter

  The key was beneath the welcome mat, and Alessandro had to shove at the door with his shoulder to open it. I wasn’t sure what I had expected inside, but the house surprisingly beat my expectations. Clean, vintage and homey, the holiday home looked like something out of a Christmas movie.

  I put Polpetto on the ground and he instantly went exploring.

  “I will get the stuff out of the car,” Alessandro told me, passing Dante to me. My son leaned his head against my chest, his little eyes looking around the new location with interest. “You go and have a look around.”

  Like most buildings that belonged to Don Piero in his lifetime, the place was decorated with beautiful works of art. After taking a peek at the Rocchetti books, I knew a lot of them were stolen–some even being actively looked for Interpol.

  When I asked Alessandro why Don Piero had refused to show the pieces off in a museum, he had laughed. My grandfather liked to keep beautiful things on display, but under his care.

  The statement had hit a bit close to home. Don Piero did like beautiful things, liked to show them off, but only if they belonged to him. I had experienced that—as had Nicoletta.

  I found the master bedroom and felt heat flush through me.

  It was one day until the wait was up, the race had been won. For the past six weeks, all the heated glances and stolen touches would finally reach their climax—both figuratively and literally.

  Dante gurgled in my arms.

  “I know.” I kissed his temple, shutting the door to the room. “Let’s go and find the fireplace.”

  By the time all the luggage was in, I had already warmed up the living room. Dante and I sat in front of the fire. My baby was on his belly, trying to lift his head, with my encouragement and support.

  “Don’t help him,” Alessandro told me when he spotted me with Dante.

  “He just needs a little help from his mama,” I cooed.

  My husband shook his head. “He will do it by himself or not at all.”

  Polpetto came dancing into the living room, heading straight for Dante. Alessandro scooped him up before he got close, holding him in one hand like a stuffed toy.

  I scooped Dante up off the ground, holding him to me. He was still trying to lift his head. “Are you trying to show off to your daddy?” I laughed, smoothing down some of his hair. The color had yet to darken but all the Rocchettis were convinced he would be a brunette, while I was still holding my hope that he would have my hair color. “My strong boy, holding his head up, all on his own.”

  Dante’s lips tilted, almost forming into a—

  “Alessandro, he’s smiling!”

  Alessandro leaned closer, taking in my son’s expression. “I think that’s just him figuring out his facial muscles, Sophia.”

  “Nope.” I kissed his cheek. “He is smiling at his mother. My darling boy, you’re giving your mother big smiles, aren’t you?”

  Dante kept trying to hold his head up, not really paying me any attention.

  “Come here, my boy,” Alessandro held his hands out. Dante didn’t fuss as he went to his father. “I’ll let you discover your face in peace.”

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help my growing smile as I took in my two boys. Alessandro held Dante to his chest, his hands strong but gentle with his son.

  “Where did Oscuro and Beppe go?”

  “They’re checking the place,” Alessandro said, “and then they will go to the guest house. It will be just us.”

  Just us.

  Polpetto barked and I scratched his head. “And you, too, my darling. We won’t send you to the guest house.”

  “We would put him outside.”

  “No.” I waved off Alessandro’s comment. He was still in denial that he liked Polpetto. “We will do no such thing.”

  The atmosphere was relaxed and warm as we went about our evening. I cooked while Alessandro bounced Dante around—who decided halfway through he hated it and threw up on his father.

  I laughed so hard that Polpetto looked genuinely concerned, while Alessandro disgustedly cleaned himself up and told me we were not having any more kids.

  Dante couldn’t have been more pleased with himself.

  Out of the window, I could see the lights on in the guest house, as well as the dark forms of Oscuro and Beppe.

  “Are they sure they don’t want to come in for dinner?” I asked Alessandro once he had changed.

  “I asked—they said no.”

  “Did you ask or did you ask?”

  He frowned. “You said the same word twice, Sophia. How many different ways of asking someone if they want dinner are there?”

  I laid out our plates. “Did you imply they weren’t welcome?”

  Alessandro placed a mocking hand on his chest. “My love, I am the most welcoming person in the world.”

  Dante’s lips tilted again.

  “Are you smiling at your daddy?” I crooned.

  “You’re always going to be on your mama’s side, aren’t you?” Alessandro asked him, pretending to be grumpy but failing miserably.

  “Hopefully, the next one is your teammate, no?” I mused.

  Alessandro smiled slightly, the action soft and surprising. “If I was them, I would be on your side as well.”

  When Alessandro came back from soothing Dante to sleep, I was suddenly filled with a burst of anxiety. And not only because this was the first time Dante would not sleep in the same room as me.

  Our six weeks had come to its end, its finale. Maybe we were a day early but waiting was no longer an option.

  I knew this time would be different. The next time we slept together, we would be different people, have a different relationship.

  I wondered if Alessandro knew that too.

  “Are you cold?” he asked me as he stepped into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. His eyes roamed over my short nightgown, lingering on my bare legs.

  “A little.” Not at all. All I could think about was his lips on mine, his hands on my skin, how it would feel when he entered me—

  Sophia!

  I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my brain of all dirty thoughts. “I’m probably going to go to sleep.”

  “You don’t want to stay up with me?” he asked.

  “What are you going to do?”

  The low dip to his smile told me all I needed to know.

  I felt warmth rise up my neck. “Not for long...”

  I snuggled up in bed while Alessandro got ready. I leaned on my elbow, watching him strip to his boxer briefs. The strong outline of his muscles, the cuts and creases to his olive skin, made me flush to my roots.

  Alessandro eyed me. “Are you watching me, Sophia?”

  I had been caught. “No. Just thinking.”

  His eyes gleamed at the lie. “What are you thinking about?”

  You, me, naked. “Nothing interesting. My mind is a place of vapid thoughts regarding nothing but the latest fashion trends and nasty gossip about my friends.”

  “I am not on your mind?”

  “Are you a pair of Louboutin heels? It not, then no.”

  Alessandro prowled to the end of the bed. He grabbed my foot under the blanket, quick as a viper.

  I squeaked, laughing, and tried to wriggle him off. His grip did not loosen. Trapped, I tried, “What if you were on my mind?”

  “I would want to know what I was doing.” His eyes trailed up the length of my leg, starting from my ankle in his grip to the spot in between my thighs. A steady throb had begun to grow there, only becoming more undeniable under his hungry regard.

  Even through the blanket, Alessandro could tell. He slowly smiled, the look so ravenous, so feral, that my toes curled.

  “Paying taxes.” It was the first thing that came to my mind and the least sexy thing I could think of.

  My answer surprised him because his grip loosened. “Paying taxes?” he chuckled. “Anything else?”

  If I detailed all the dirty thoughts I had had, Alessandro might fee
l scandalized. I shrugged, smiling to myself, “No. That was all.”

  “Are you lying again, my love?” His expression darkened again, directly making my core tighten. He clicked his tongue. “I thought we agreed not to do that anymore.”

  “We should make room for exceptions,” I breathed.

  Alessandro snatched my other ankle beneath the blanket, now pinning both of them down. He didn’t need to. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Why he wanted control over my legs became clear when he began to slowly spread them apart, the blanket stretching. Despite still being protected by a layer of fabric, my pussy felt exposed, achy.

  Soaked.

  Alessandro yanked himself onto the bed, sliding in between my knees, stopping them from snapping back together. He loomed over me, half-naked, covered in scars and tattoos.

  “Are you still tired, my love?”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s handy.” Alessandro pressed a hand down on either side of my head, poising himself above him. His scent, his warmth, was so overwhelming, so consuming. He wrapped a finger around a strand of air, pulling. “I plan to keep you awake for a very long time.”

  “Okay,” was all I said—like an idiot.

  He leaned down to my lips, breaths mingling. His eyes were so deep, so dark, he looked almost possessed. Something in my expression made him pause. “We can wait until tomorrow. Until you’re ready.”

  I was ready now.

  I wrapped a hand around the back of his head, pulling him down. We met in a collision of lips and teeth and tongues. I could taste a hint of tangy tomato sauce from dinner.

  Alessandro leaned further into me, our bodies still separated by the blanket. I felt his chest press against mine, his hips against mine, his pelvis between my legs.

  I only grew hotter at the feel of him. All that coiled up strength, reined back only for me. Only ever for me.

  We built up a slow rocking movement, our bodies rubbing against each other, searching for the release they sought.

  Alessandro got frustrated quickly with the blanket, tearing it to the side. I kicked it off my legs, laughing as he broke away to throw it off the side of the bed.

  Cold air hit me, but within seconds Alessandro was back against me, flesh against flesh. One of his hands roamed my now exposed skin, from my thighs to my arms, like he was checking it was all there. When he met my nightgown, he broke away, breathing hard.

  “Alessandro.” I tightened my grip on his hair, trying to pull him back down to my lips.

  “Ah, ah, my love.” Alessandro leaned back on his heels, catching both my knees with his hands. He stretched them out, then brought them back together before stretching them out again.

  The throb between my legs only grew more intense.

  “Do you see what is wrong with this picture?”

  “You’re not kissing me?”

  His teeth flashed in the dark. “That’s not it.” His hands slid from my knees, disappearing under my nightgown. I felt him tug at the ends. “You have too many clothes on.”

  Alessandro torn the nightgown in half in one smooth movement.

  “Alessandro!”

  “What?” he said innocently, peeling the delicate silk off me, revealing my heavy breasts and stomach.

  I slid the rest of it off, tossing it over the side of the bed.

  Before I could say anything else, Alessandro cupped my breasts, his palms rough against my sensitive nipples. He kneaded them gently, glancing at me as I gasped.

  “These keep changing.” He didn’t sound upset—rather delighted. “I wonder if they taste the same.”

  Alessandro answered his own question. He bent down, taking my left nipple in his mouth.

  They were so much more sensitive now, and I hissed at the contact, pressing my heels down into the mattress. An attempt to try and anchor myself from the growing heat, the lack of control, the need.

  With his other hand, he cupped my right breast.

  “Alessandro.” I dug my head into the pillow, squeezing his hair.

  “Mmm?” he murmured around my nipple.

  I felt his teeth tug lightly, the sensation darting straight down to the crook between my thighs. I let out a breathy moan.

  Alessandro titled his head up. His dark eyes threatened to swallow me whole. “Look at you,” he said darkly. “Because I love you, I will let you choose. Your right nipple or...” His fingers trailed down my stomach. “Or your pussy.”

  A no-brainer.

  I lifted my hips, meeting his fingers. The area was so ready, so wet, that the first stroke of his finger was like lightning to my bloodstream.

  “Oh, fuck, Sophia,” Alessandro hissed when he felt me. “You’re going to kill me.”

  Not if you kill me first, I thought.

  Alessandro pinched my clit, my hips jerking in response. He used two fingers to outline my pussy, pressing down on the sensitive flesh.

  I lifted my hips up. More, more, more.

  “Do you like that, my love?” he crooned.

  I nodded.

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  I swallowed down my pride. The only thing on my mind was the feel of his fingers against me. “I like that, Alessandro. I really like it.”

  He grinned. “My heart. How about if I...” He slipped one finger into me.

  A moan escaped my lips. I grabbed his wrist, making sure he didn’t move it.

  Alessandro laughed, easily able to overpower me but humoring my attempts by adding another finger. I could feel him pressing against my walls, moving slowly in and out, in and out, building up a rhythm–

  “No, no, not yet,” he tutted when he felt my body begin to tense.

  I cried out in annoyance. “Alessandro!”

  “You’re going to come with my cock inside of you,” he said conversationally, “so I can feel your flesh, your pleasure, around me. Got it?”

  He sent me an expectant look.

  “Got it,” I breathed.

  Alessandro continued to play with my clit, tugging me to the edge before cooling me back down. I dug my toes into the mattress, gripped his hair in my fingers, cussed him out a few times, but still he didn’t let my body find its release.

  He brought up his two fingers, stretching them out to show me my moisture. “Look how wet you are, my love.”

  “Don’t tease,” I said, bringing one of my feet up, pressing it against the hardness resting against his thigh.

  My husband’s eyes flashed. “You’re playing with fire, Sophia,” he warned me. “You have to tell me what you want.”

  I pushed myself up onto my hands, breasts and hair tumbling with the movement. Alessandro’s gaze latched onto me.

  “Fuck me,” I breathed. “Fuck me, Alessandro.”

  In a single movement, Alessandro pushed forward, leaning above me, boxer briefs gone. I felt every piece of naked skin against my own, hot and flushed and sticky with sweat.

  Alessandro moved his hips, positioning himself. He paused once again, checking on me.

  I leaned up and caught his lips, the kiss hot and deep. Alessandro matched my pace, my lust.

  Slowly but surely, he pressed himself against my entrance, then pushed in.

  I cried out, breaking the kiss.

  I felt him everywhere. His arms around me, his pelvis against mine, his cock inside of me. There wasn’t an inch of me that Alessandro didn’t have, didn’t own.

  “Fuck, Sophia,” he breathed. “You feel like Heaven.”

  Alessandro pulled out slowly and then slid back in, building up momentum. His hips rocked back and forth, moving with me.

  I felt his fingers go back to my clit, pinching at the sensitive button.

  The sensations were too much. I could feel him moving in and out, his fingers tugging at me, his pelvis rocking against mine.

  The world could have exploded in that moment and I wouldn’t have noticed, wouldn’t have cared. All that mattered was Alessandro and me and this sliver of time.

&nb
sp; The throbbing grew more intense, my muscles tensing, my back arching. I felt it coming, felt my body preparing me—

  “Oh! God!”

  I came with a cry, contracting around Alessandro’s cock. He let out a groan, his hip bucking as he came inside of me, matching orgasm for orgasm. Neither of us willing to be left out.

  Alessandro lost his strength, rolling over before falling on me.

  I heaved down air, head still foggy from the climax of pleasure. Both of us were slick with sweat and God knew what else, but neither of us moved.

  It suddenly wasn’t so cold in the room anymore.

  I covered my eyes with my arm, continuing to take deep breaths.

  Alessandro’s hand came around my hip, briefly giving me a squeeze. “You good?” he asked.

  I dropped my arm and smiled at him. He was looking down at me, scanning me for any signs of discomfort. “I’m good,” I replied. “Thank you.”

  His eyebrows rose. “I should be the one thanking you. Letting The Godless lie with you...” He shook his head, expression dark.

  “I’m not so perfect,” I murmured. “Perhaps it is you who should be worried about me.”

  “As a general rule of thumb, Sophia,” Alessandro whispered, “I am always worried about you.”

  We kissed softly, sweetly, before Alessandro leaned over the side of the bed and pulled the blanket back up. He tucked it over us both, despite the need for warmth already met.

  I fell asleep in his arms, my dreams filled with bright colors and swirling stars.

  T he weekend passed too quickly. When Sunday arrived, neither of us really wanted to leave, happy in the little bubble we had created. But we had responsibilities and things to accomplish, so we needed to return to the city.

  “We can come back when things are more settled at home,” I said as we walked out to leave, Dante held tightly to my chest.

  Alessandro nodded. “I know.” But he still didn’t seem pleased.

  As we drove home, I saw holiday-Alessandro begin to disappear back beneath gangster-Alessandro. I knew he could only be certain parts of himself when he was home with his family, and I, too, followed that pattern. But still, it reminded me our break was over and we were back to being the Principe and Principessa of Chicago.