Page 99 of Mafia Queen
He doesn’t get up. The rain drips in his open eyes and rinses the life from them.
Santino’s erection is hard and thick against me as he squeezes our hands again, pulling the trigger to hit the fallen man’s chest.
It’s over.
It takes me a few seconds of leaning against my rock-hard husband, watching the rain hit Damiano’s dead body, to fully realize that my king is with me again, and it’s over.
I feel as though I’ve been holding up the entire world, and now that he’s here, collapsing seems like the only reasonable response. But my knees stay steady, and my shoulders do not drop. My arms lock around him and my lips taste the rain falling from his.
Santino is all right. This isn’t a dream. I’m not between life and death or in a delusional state. He’s with me, standing, breathing, telling me how completely alive he is.
How alive we both are.
And how dead the man who hurt us is.
My brain fires a million miles a minute, flooding with dopamine.
“You’re here,” I say, clutching what’s left of his shirt.
“I’m here.” He drops the gun, takes a fistful of my hair, and forces me into a kiss that’s not meant for a sweet reunion, but a demand. “Pull your pants down so I can prove it.”
They’re soaking wet, so I can’t get them down fast enough to satisfy my own lust. When they’re around my thighs, he pushes me into the Suburban’s open door. My back is on the seat and my head against the gear shift. He pushes my legs up, and with my legs still bound by my waistband, he gets out his cock and shoves it in me.
As he drives and thrusts, he rips off my pants, pushing my legs apart so he can split me in two, proving to himself that he’s killed a man but is still alive.
It’s a victory screw. A murder fuck. It’s blood and gunpowder and a rush toward the sharp edge of death.
I slap his face. “You left without me.” I slap it again. He drives into me so hard the pain is exquisite. “Don’t do that ever again.”
“I’m not sorry,” he growls, laying his right hand on my throat to keep me still.
I slap him, and he tightens his grip, pounding hard enough to break me, and I want him to. I claw at his face to rip him apart. Taking a man’s life took me to an edge, but not all the way. It’s not enough. I’m still cracking from the inside, and Santino needs to shatter me until the life drains out.
“Kill me,” I cry, scratching his chest. “Kill me with it.”
“We go to death together.” He squeezes my throat until his face is at the end of a long, dark tunnel. “And come back.”
As the tunnel closes and my senses shut down, my body explodes in pulsing electricity.
I am dead. I’m sure of it. No one can feel this much pure pleasure and live.
My lungs take in air as Santino cries out, coming inside me while I’m still inside my orgasm. Gradually, the sound of pattering rain enters, and reality returns.
He’s here, above me, eyes half-closed with release, and it’s a better reality than I ever hoped for.
“We won,” I say, caressing the face I just slapped.
“I found you.” He kisses my throat. “My queen.”
“My king.”
He pushes himself away as if reminded of something. He puts his dick away. “Get in.”
Grabbing my wet pants, I scoot to the passenger seat. He walks away to stand over Damiano’s body, then crouches by him. A minute later, Santino strides back, hands together as he puts my father’s ring back where it was meant to be.
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VIOLETTA
