Page 26 of Mafia Queen
“The only place I want to be reigned over is the bedroom. And the bath.”
Smiling, he stands, slick with wet, patched with bubbles sliding down to gather around his erection.
“This, I can do.” He holds out his hand for me.
We get out of the tub together. He snaps a thick towel from the cabinet and covers my shoulders.
“We’ll have to get the crown,” I say as he carefully dries me from fingertip to under my arms.
“Yes.” He gets on his knee to dry my feet, moving upward. Over my breasts and collarbones, his touch is reverent, soothing, healing.
“Today. Before Gia does.”
He pats my face dry with gentle taps, then gives himself a quick toweling. “She can’t walk in and take what’s yours. The lawyers… It’s not acamorrafirm. The genius of your father’sconsiglierewas using outsiders, so it’s not like what you call a ‘mob priest’ or a ‘mob doctor.’”
He’s playfully mocking what I’ve said before, but with the mention of a mob doctor, a lump rises in my throat.
“No.” I try to swallow the lump, but it sticks, reminding me that I need to be looked at. I can’t avoid it too much longer. “I want to see an obstetrician. A real one. Not Dr. Salafia—the one who checks to make sure brides are virgins.”
“He died last May.” He hangs up the towel, not getting it.
“Not Farina. He’s no doctor.”
Hetsksa no. “There’s a doctor on Tamino Avenue. Aselli. We can go tonight.”
“Not here. On the other side of the river. A real doctor with no loyalties. I think I can still use the student clinic. You need to take me first thing in the morning or I’ll go myself.”
He holds up his hands to stop me, then puts them on either side of my face. “We go together. Always. Everywhere. Together.”
I believe him. God help me, I believe him, and inside that box of faith is a prize—a shining truth.
Trust. I trust him.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’ll call tomorrow and make sure they can see me.”
“No. I’ll call them and tell them when we’re coming.”
Santino leans down, picks me up in his arms, and carries me to the bedroom, where he lays me on the covers.
“It’s too early to sleep,” I say, even though I’m completely exhausted. “We haven’t even had dinner.”
“Just relax.” He stands at the side of the bed, body fluid, bruised, ready to get dressed and walk out of the room to whatever business awaits downstairs.
My cells and bones react to the thought of him leaving before I fall asleep. No. He can’t.
“You going to feed me this?” I reach for his cock, wrapping my hand around the base. He leans over and parts my legs.
“Again?” He kisses inside my thigh. “You’re insatiable.”
In answer, I pull him into me and wrap my legs around him. He kisses the unbruised side of my face, and I turn so his lips touch the broken vessels and still-swollen skin. He pauses, then gently kisses where I’m hurt.
I sigh. It’s exactly what I need.
Mostly exactly, but I want more.
Pushing into him, I press his erection on my seam. We kiss as he slides along the length of it. I moan into his mouth, jerking faster as all the pain and worry flow between my legs and transform into pleasure.
“Please,” I whisper. “Don’t make me beg.”
