Page 82 of Mafia King
“Slow, my violet,” he whispers, pulling out. “If we go slow, it will only hurt for a moment.”
“I trust you.”
“Bene.” He shifts me to my side, puts one of my legs over his shoulder, and straddles the one on the bed. Now I can see him and the expression of care he intends to take, and that relaxes me.
“Bene,” I say, smiling.
He pushes into my ass again, and I’m split again. As gentle as he is, the act is not. It tears and expands, distends and breaks, marking and scarring a piece of my body forever.
We work into a careful rhythm, thrusting and rocking. He stops every few strokes and massages my clit so my body can catch up, then, without warning, the pain is rerouted into pleasure, and the stretching turns into submission as he drives deep and stops to close his eyes as if in prayer.
“Violetta,” he whispers.
“Santino.” I pant. My body begs and pleads. “Don’t stop.”
“Not yet, my blood violet.” He bends the leg over his shoulder, exposing more of me. “We come together.”
“Tell me when,amore mio.”
My Italian cracks him. He slides one finger over my clit and uses the other to steady us as his thrusts grow harder.
“Now,amore mio,” Santino commands.
We come together with broken shouts and tight grunts. My body stretches and contracts. I shake, I cry, I scream. Santino works my clit as we ride the waves together. As he marks me deep inside, I surrender to the man he is and the man he promised he could be.
* * *
Santino padsback from the bathroom with a warm, damp towel. He cleans me up carefully, whispering in two languages. How much he loves me. How much I am his. How much he is mine. Then he lays next to me and pulls me close, kissing me hard, his breath minty and clean. “I thought I would lose you today. It made me crazy.”
“Would you have given me the annulment if I wanted it?”
He’s silent for a minute, looking at me with a gaze deep into himself. Then he snaps his focus back to me.
“Yes.” He frowns, brushing the hair from my face and stroking my cheek. “But there would have been consequences.”
He rolls onto his back, and I scoot closer to him, tucking my head on his shoulder.
“Such as?” I figure the answer will be a few words about the consequences to me. Being chased forever. Being caught and broken over his cock like a twig. Or the consequences to him. Shattered heart? Endless sadness?
“What I gave up, other men would try to take. I would be unable to protect you unless I locked you in my basement.”
I get my elbow under me and put my face between his and the ceiling. As over-the-top as the declaration of love I expected might have been, it probably wouldn’t have demanded a reasonable response the way this one does.
“I’m just a nursing student who didn’t marry well.”
“You’re a treasure worth stealing.”
Our sweet love talk got very serious, very quickly, and there seems to be something besides his subjective feelings about me at the core of his promise.
Getting my knees under me, I straddle him and put my hands on his chest as if that’s the way to speak to his heart. “Like you did?”
His manner snaps from tranquil to alert like a folding magician’s wand released from inside a sleeve. Our postcoital cocoon has been torn open.
“Like I did. But I’d throw the pieces of the crown away before I hurt a hair on your head. You are the precious thing,Forzetta. You are unique, and powerful, and beautiful. That crown puts you in danger, and it keeps you safe. That’s why I want it.”
“Too bad. Your lust for power is kind of a turn-on.”
He laughs, cupping my jaw and stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. “What is power, my blood violet?”
