Page 67 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

But I knew better. He didn't belong in a tiny shop. His world was the blood-soaked underground of New York, the sprawling business empire that shaped economies—not me.

We left the restaurant and walked hand in hand along the beach, heading back toward the boutique. The sea breeze tangled my hair. Dante turned and blocked the wind for me.

"Elena, will you be with me?" he asked softly. "Not because Salvador forced you. Not because I made you stay. Because you choose it."

My heart pounded like the crashing waves. In that moment, this powerful, fragile man had laid himself completely bare before me. I couldn't lie to myself anymore. Couldn't resist him for one more second.

"I love you, Dante." I threw my arms around him, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Yes."

I don't remember how we got back to the shop. By the time I came to, Dante had stripped me bare. We were on the handwoven rug, fucking like animals.

Dante's body covered mine completely—heavy, relentless—driving into me with the kind of raw force that only came from almost losing the one thing that mattered.

My nails dug into the hard planes of his shoulders. Every thrust forced a broken sound up my throat that I swallowed at the last second. The walls of the shop were thin; I could hear the occasional car pass on the street outside, the distant bark of a dog. One loud cry and someone might hear. I bit down hard onmy lower lip, eyes squeezed shut as he buried himself to the hilt again and again.

"Fuck, Elena." His voice was wrecked, low and urgent against my ear. He hooked one arm under my knee and pushed it higher, opening me wider so he could sink even deeper. The new angle dragged over that swollen place inside me with every stroke. Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes, sliding hot down my temples into my hair.

I shook my head frantically, whispering, "Dante, please, it's too much."

He slowed only enough to press his forehead to mine, still buried deep, still rocking into me in short, grinding thrusts that made my thighs tremble. "Shh, baby. I know. I know it is." His free hand cupped my cheek, thumb wiping at the wetness there even as his hips kept moving. "You feel so fucking good. I've got you. Just breathe for me. Take it. You're doing so well."

The praise only made the tears come faster. I turned my face into his palm, muffling another broken whimper. He was everywhere—his weight, his scent, the thick stretch of him filling me over and over until I felt split open and claimed. When he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, my back arched off the rug and a soft, desperate "ah—" escaped before I could stop it.

Dante's hand slid from my face to cover my mouth, gentle but firm. "Quiet, love. Don't want anyone hearing how pretty you sound when I'm inside you." His eyes were dark, almost black in the low light, and the look in them was pure possession mixed with something softer. "I almost lost you. I'm not going slow. Not tonight."

He shifted, rising onto his knees without withdrawing. Strong hands gripped my hips and flipped me onto my stomach in one smooth motion. I barely had time to push up onto my elbows before he was over me again, chest to my back, kneesspreading my thighs wide. He sank back into me from behind in one long, devastating thrust that forced my face into the rug.

The new position made everything sharper. I could feel every ridge, every thick inch of him dragging along my walls. His weight pinned me down. My fingers clawed at the woven fibers as he set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping against my ass with wet, filthy sounds that filled the quiet shop.

"Dante, oh god, please—" The words were muffled against the rug, half sob, half plea. Tears soaked the fabric under my cheek. My body was shaking, oversensitive, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

He leaned down, mouth against the side of my neck, voice a rough caress. "I know, baby. Just a little more. Be good for me. Let me feel you." One arm slid under me, hand splaying across my lower belly so he could hold me still while he fucked into me harder. The other hand found my clit, two fingers rubbing tight circles that made my thighs jerk.

My whole body went rigid. A high, thin sound tried to escape. The dual stimulation was merciless. Every thrust shoved me forward on the rug; every stroke of his fingers pulled me higher. I was crying openly now, silent tears streaming, shoulders shaking as I pushed back against him despite the overwhelming intensity—because I needed it, needed him, needed the proof that he was real and here and not leaving.

"That's it," he murmured, voice cracking with his own restraint. "Fuck, look at you. Taking me so deep. Crying for me. You're perfect. My perfect girl." He kissed the wet track of a tear on my cheek, never slowing the relentless drive of his hips. "Almost there. I'm close. Gonna fill you up. You want that? Want me to come inside you while you're shaking like this?"

I nodded frantically against the rug, unable to form words.

Dante's rhythm faltered, grew erratic. He pressed his mouth to my ear, voice wrecked. "Come with me. Right now. Let go, Elena. I've got you."

The command shattered me. My orgasm ripped through me in a silent, violent wave—muscles clamping down hard around him, body convulsing as white-hot pleasure crashed over me. I sobbed into the rug, the sound swallowed by the fabric and his hand still half-covering my mouth. The pulsing of my walls dragged him under with me.

He buried himself to the root with a broken groan and came hard, flooding me in thick, hot pulses. I felt every spurt, the heat of it, the way he kept rocking through it as if he couldn't bear to stop. His arm around my middle tightened until I could barely breathe, holding me flush against him while we rode it out together—shaking, gasping, completely undone.

For long seconds there was only the sound of our ragged breathing and the distant city night beyond the thin walls. Dante's weight stayed heavy on my back, his cock still twitching inside me as the last aftershocks faded. He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder, my neck, the damp hair at my temple, murmuring broken, tender things between each one.

"I've got you. You're safe. I love you. God, I love you so much."

My eyes stayed closed, tears still leaking slowly onto the rug, body boneless and oversensitive beneath him. When he finally eased out, I made a soft, involuntary sound at the sudden emptiness. He immediately gathered me into his arms, rolling us onto our sides so he could cradle me against his chest, one hand stroking down my spine in slow, soothing passes.

I collapsed against him, panting, limbs useless. I could feel our heartbeats tangled together. He laughed softly, chest rumbling beneath me. "Elena, you love me."

He said it like a knight who'd slain the dragon and won his princess.

I just closed my eyes and held him tighter.

The wind chimes inside were still ringing, their sound making me feel light. Dante and I had finally understood each other. Nothing had ever made me happier.