She pushes back against me each time my tongue thrusts inside of her tight hole. I’m taking this, too. I’m taking all of her and I’m fucking keeping her, no matter what she has to fucking say about it.
Wrenching my mouth away from her, I can’t wait a second longer, unbuckling my pants, I push them and my underwear down my hips and immediately wrap my hand around my cock, giving it a single stroke. Aligning the head of my dick with her dripping wet cunt, I slam inside of her without warning.
My fingers grip her hips and I groan at the tight feeling of being inside of her like this. Her legs are pressed tightly together, it’s fucking heaven. Restrained, naked, wet and all mine. Life could not get any fucking better at this point.
Gripping her hip with one hand, I slide my other hand to her ass and slip my thumb inside of her back entrance. Her entire body jumps, but she pushes back against me with a moan and I know that it’s my go-ahead to fuck her ass with my finger.
Shifting my hand, I pull my cock completely out of her, enjoying the sight of her pussy lips stretching around me, then I slide two fingers in her ass at the same time I bury my cock inside of her center.
I keep going like this, fucking her slowly, with purpose and enjoying the show of her body taking all of me in her holes.
There is no other way to describe Nicola Ricci, except to do it in three simple words—made for me. I can feel her body climbing again, dancing on the edge of a second climax.
I’d like to draw at least two more from her, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll personally be able to last.
She’s so goddamn tight like this.
So wet and pliant.
So fucking perfect.
Her body begins to shake and I feel her ass clench around my fingers at the same time her cunt does the same around my cock. It pulls my release from me in a rush that I wasn’t quite expecting.
I let out a roar as my cum fills her body, my eyes never leaving her pussy as I continue to slide in and out of her lazily, knowing that I’m the only man that will ever fuck her again for the rest of her goddamn life.
Chapter Sixteen
BENICIO
My phone dances on the nightstand and I groan as I reach over to answer it. It’s late, I’m fucking exhausted from well… fucking.
Nicola is passed out on my chest, curled into me like the sweetest fucking kitty cat. I didn’t know that this position, her nestled into me and me wrapped around her would feel like goddamn bliss, but it does.
“Benicio,” Arlo’s voice greets after I slide my thumb across my phone screen.
“You know I’m not really working with Gavino much anymore,” I point out, recognizing his voice immediately.
He laughs before he gets on with what he wants. “This isn’t about the famiglia. This is personal.”
“Personal? Do tell,” I murmur.
“My wife, I need her cell phone records. I need her text messages, her contacts, all of it.”
I hum, thinking of his new wife, Wynter Zanetti, and frown. She’s a fucking bitch, entitled and spoiled as far as I can tell, but I’m curious as to why he wants her monitored.
Nicci moans against my chest and slowly sits up. Her hair is a mess, but fuck me, she’s never looked more goddamn beautiful than she does in this moment.
“Who is it, Benny?” she asks, forgetting herself, too sleepy to follow the rules that she’s made up for herself.
I place my hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Go on, Nicci. I’m on the phone. It’s business, babe.”
She nods once, then I watch her slip off of the bed and slowly make her way into the bathroom. I know her, she won’t listen, she knows the rules and she’s awake enough now that she’ll be a good girl. The bathroom door closes and immediately I hear the shower water run.
Good fucking girl.
“Nicola Ricci? At eleven o’clock at night, pray-tell what are you doing together so late, my friend?” he asks on a chuckle.
Fuck, I thought that it was later than that. Nicci has absolutely fucking worn me out tonight. My lips twitch in a satisfied smirk.
“None of your business, Zanetti,” I growl.
“Touchy, touchy.”
“You want the full digital workup on the wifey?” I ask, changing the subject back to him.
“I do. She’s hiding something and I think that I know what it is, but I need proof. I also need her personal bank records.”
“This will cost you,” I inform him.
“I have no doubt. You can bill me or I can owe you a marker. It’s up to you, Benny.”
I think on it for a moment, shifting my gaze to the closed bathroom door, thoughts of Nicola on my mind. Thoughts of the future, our future, at the forefront.
“I think I’ll take a marker on this one,” I say.
“When can I expect the information?”
“Since I doubt she knows how to do any firewalls, or anything, probably tomorrow sometime.”
Ending the call, I think about what I could ask Arlo for as a marker. I may want something in the future. Something with Nicci, I wonder if this would be enough to secure Nicola in my future, as more than my comáre.
Maybe if enough people owe me markers, enough people like Arlo who is an Underboss, then I can keep Nicola as my own.
Maybe, that is, if I want that.
I’m still a bit torn when it comes to her. I’ve mostly forgiven her for the past, and I do understand why she did what she did, but I still don’t feel like I can wholly trust her. Not yet.
The bathroom door slowly opens and I shift my gaze over to it, watching as she pokes her head out. Her eyes slide over me and she takes a step out of the doorway when she realizes that I’m no longer on the phone.
“Everything okay?” she asks, shifting from foot to foot.
The towel is wrapped around her body and for the first time in my life I find that I hate an inanimate object, I’m jealous of a fucking towel.
“Not really,” I grind out.
She pauses, freezing in her spot as she watches me. Her hair is pulled up into a knot at the top of her head. Her face is void of makeup and I know beneath that hated towel she’s warm and naked. She presses her lips together, her eyes shifting to the side then back to meet my own.
“You’re wrapped in a towel, standing across the room from me,” I point out.
Nicola blinks, then her lips lift into a small smile as she untucks the towel from around her chest and I watch it fall to the floor at her feet.
“Slowly, Nicci,” I gently demand.
It is a demand, too. I want to watch her walk toward me. Never away, always toward me. Her tits sway with each step that she takes, her hips shifting from side to side, her eyes never leaving mine.
Every bronze colored inch of her skin is on display and I wonder if I will ever get tired of staring at it. I doubt it.
She sinks one knee in the bed then climbs on top and makes her way over to me. I watch as she straddles my knees, bending over and placing her palms on either side of my hips as she lowers her head, her eyes still so fucking focused on my own.
My cock twitches as soon as her breath washes over my skin. She smirks, her lips touching the head of my dick, her eyes looking up at me the entire time.
Moving my hands, I place one behind my head, the other I shift to wrap around the back of hers, gripping her hair at the nape of her neck.
“What do you want?” she asks on a breathy whisper.
With a grunt, I shake my head once. “You know what I want, passerotta.”
She watches me, her eyes growing almost sad looking. “No, I don’t.”
She’s not talking about sucking my dick, she’s talking about so much more, but I can’t have that conversation with her.
She knows her place, for now. It’s all that I can give her. She needs to accept that for now, maybe forever, she will be nothing more than my bedmate.
Dipping my chin, I refuse to delve into that conversation with her, not now, not again,
not ever.
Without a word, she opens her mouth, flattening her tongue and licks the entire length of my cock. My eyes slowly close and I let out a groan at the feel of her warm, wet tongue against my dick. Then, without warning, she takes me all the way down her throat.
I’d almost forgotten that she could do this, that she could take all of me without hesitation. My eyes fly open, my hand in her hair tightens and I growl at the sight of her taking me.
Her full lips are stretched around me, her eyes focused nowhere but my own and it’s fucking heaven.
I guide her along my length, showing her the rhythm that I want for tonight, slow and steady. Nothing too hard or too fast, slow satisfaction to end the evening.
I want to blow down her throat, but I also want to come inside of her, so before I climax, I tug her off of my length and breathlessly stare down at her.
“C’mon, passerotta, ride me,” I order, releasing my hold on her hair.
She has saliva dripping down her chin, her eyes are wild and I know that her pussy is wet and ready for me. Without hesitation, she climbs up my legs, until her pussy is hovering right above my hard, wet, aching cock.
Without a word, she reaches between us and aligns my dick against her center before she slowly sinks down, taking all of me inside of her. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her hips, keeping her right where she is, my cock buried deep.
“Benny,” she breathes, leaning forward and placing her palms against my chest. Grinning, I look up at her, so fucking beautiful.
“I want to trust you, Nicola. I want all of this to be real. I’ve never wanted anything more,” I lamely say.
Her tongue peeks out and I watch as she wets her lips. “Me too,” she whispers.
I grunt as she slowly lowers her upper body so that her lips are just above mine. One of her hands slide beneath my head, her fingers twisting in my hair.
The other reaches up and wraps around the edge of the headboard. I can feel her tits pressing against my chest, her body so fucking soft against my own.
“I’ve never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you, Benny. I want to trust you, but I don’t know the man that you have become over the last almost two years. A person can change a hell of a lot in that time. I know, because I have,” she admits.
Shifting my hips, I lift them slightly, nipping her bottom lip when I do. “We’ll figure this out, Nicci. No matter the circumstances, you were always meant to be mine.”
We don’t speak again. Instead, she fucks me, her chest pressed against mine, her mouth hovering above my own and we just fucking feel one another.
There are so many words left unsaid, so many doubts floating around, so much uncertainty, but we only know one thing. Our bodies were made for one another, that is fucking one hundred percent the goddamn truth.
NICOLA
Each day that goes by, I wait for it to be the last. I feel like I’m living on borrowed time when it comes to sleeping next to Benicio.
It’s the truth of it though, I am living on borrowed time. Soon he’ll need to marry, need to produce some sons, and while he still wants me, I’ll continue to be a someone that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world, his secret.
I’ll always be a secret, no matter who or what I end up being. Whether it’s Benicio’s comáre or a call girl for Gavino. Always some man’s secret, tucked and hidden away so that I don’t tarnish their name in public.
It’s been a week since I moved into Benicio’s bedroom. He’s not around nearly as much as he was when he first arrived. In fact, most days I don’t see him until he slips into bed beside me sometime in the middle of the night.
Sitting alone at the large dining room table, wearing my normal tight skirt, high heels, and slightly low-cut blouse, I eat my dinner in silence. I keep hoping to run into the cook, maybe try and strike up our old friendship, but she comes and goes without me even realizing it.
I spend my days completely alone. Every now and then I’ll hear one of Benicio’s men coming and going, usually his Underboss, but he doesn’t speak to me. I have a feeling that Benny has told everyone that I don’t exist to them.
I wish that I could say that I don’t mind it, that I’m used to it, but I do mind. I’m tired of always being alone.
Pushing my food around on my plate, I jump when my phone alerts me to an incoming message. Before I look at my phone, I think about Q.
I haven’t heard from him recently. I haven’t reached out to him either and it’s because I know without a doubt that Benicio would lose his shit if I did.
I’m trying to be trustworthy. I’m trying to be the good girl that he would want to bring out in the public’s eye. Maybe, one day, if it was at all possible that is. Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I look down at my phone.
Q: ARE YOU DOING OKAY?
My heart begins to hammer in my chest. As if I summoned him to contact me, there he is. His words, they do something to me.
Not just the fact that he’s asking me, but also the fact that I know he is truly concerned. He’s probably the only person who has ever been concerned with my welfare. I shift in my seat, wondering if I should answer him or not.
Benny would hate it if I responded, but Benny may not always be here. I may not always be with him. Q is a constant, or at least has been for a year, which unfortunately is the longest that I have had someone give a fuck about me.
I’M OKAY.
I respond quickly and place my phone face down on the table. I don’t feel okay though. I lied. I feel completely out of control. Completely on edge. Benicio has restrained me twice since that first time, and while I enjoyed it immensely, I think just not knowing what’s to become of me is too much right now.
I don’t think that I can find peace and calm, I don’t think that I will be grounded until I know exactly what my future holds, or at least some kind of idea.
My phone doesn’t buzz again with any other messages and I reach for it at least half a dozen times while I stare at my plate full of untouched food.
Standing from the table, I abandon my plate and my phone and make my way outside into the darkness.
Once I’m out on the back patio, I slip my feet out of my shoes and start to walk out onto the grass. It’s a nice night, not too cold, but you can feel the weather shifting into the next season. I walk out toward the small Italian rose garden near the back of the property.
I should probably be wearing shoes out here in the grass and dirt, but there is something just so freeing about being barefoot outside. Finding my favorite bench, I sink down and inhale a deep breath as I lift my gaze to the bright full moon.
“Your mother loved sitting out here,” a deep voice murmurs.
I nearly jump out of my skin and turn to see a man sitting next to me. I recognize his jawline, his stature—him. Except he’s not wearing his mask.
“Q?” I ask with a hitch of my breath.
He doesn’t turn to me, instead, he keeps his eyes focused on the moon. I didn’t hear him walk up next to me, or sit down, but he’s here and my heart begins to race with excitement and concern all at the same time.
“My mother?” I ask, curious as to how he knows her, why he’s mentioning her.
“Milia and I were lovers. I remember you as a small girl, but you probably don’t recall me. I was one of many men around the house.”
My entire body freezes at his words. Slowly, he turns his head to face me and when I see all of him, head-on, my body jerks.
I remember him. I don’t remember a lot, but I remember that he was always kind. He smiled a lot when he talked to me, or to my mother.
“I remember,” I whisper.
“I loved her very much, Nicola. It was that love that I had for her that got her killed. It wasn’t her fault, it was mine. I will live with that for the rest of my life. That and the fact that I couldn’t save you when I damn well should have.”
Blinking, I try to let his words sink in. A thought flits into my head, and I frown. “Am
I yours?” I ask.
He smirks, shaking his head. “It would have been easier if you were. But, no. The baby that she was carrying when she died, he was mine. You and your brother are, unfortunately, Mauro’s.”
“Is that why you found me?”
Q smirks. “I never lost you, Nicola. I’ve always kept tabs on you. The club, that is the only time that I’ve ever been able to be near you alone. I seized the opportunity, and I felt like I could help you.”
Nodding, I look down at my lap, then lift my head and eyes back up to meet his. “Why are you telling me now?” I chance asking.
“I’m assuming Benicio didn’t tell you that he and I had a meet over a week ago?”
Shaking my head, my eyes widen as I think about that. I remember him, hearing his voice but I didn’t really put it together, the night that I overheard Benny saying that he hated me. Then later he gave me the picture of my mother. I pinch my eyes closed tightly, inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth.
“He was concerned about your welfare. I have to admit it was refreshing. However, I am concerned about his future intentions with you.”
Opening my eyes, I start to say something when I hear a booming voice from behind us.
“One more fucking word and I pull the trigger, Favero.”
Chapter Seventeen
BENICIO
If seeing red is livid, I’m beyond that. I don’t know what that makes me, but it’s what I am at the sight before me.
The alert that I received on my phone while I was driving home caused my foot to apply a bit more pressure against the accelerator. Then the second alert had me breaking a million fucking laws.
Once I slide my car into the driveway, I shift it into park, and take off running toward the back of the house. I don’t know what has me nervous, but my heart slams against my chest with each step that I take toward him.
Yanking my gun out of my shoulder holster, I lift my hand and point the barrel at the back of Quirino’s head. I don’t say a word, don’t move. I want to know what kind of shit he’s saying to Nicola. His words cause me to jerk.
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