Page 32 of Vicious Secrets
“Siro,” I whimper when the vibrator finds my clit. “Let me. I need more.”
We fall away from each other like we’re yanked apart by invisible hands. I slump back on the desk and grab the base of the dildo, pounding myself to the point of an ache in my gut. My head thrashes from side to side, and my hair sticks to my sweaty forehead. I can’t see his face, but I know he’s continuing to watch me pleasure myself.
“That’s my pussy, Robyn. Don’t make it sore, or I’ll prevent you from touching what’s mine.”
I don’t get a chance to slow the thrusts before Siro’s possessiveness unleashes my orgasm. I scream out as my pussy flutters through strong contractions around the dildo, each one sending a new wave of toe-curling, teeth-rattling pleasure slamming into me. My vision alternates between flashes of colors and the ceiling.
“Pull it out. Show me the mess that should be on my cock,” Siro rasps.
With jerky movements, I manage to force my weak arms to pull the dildo out of me. An ooze of my wetness cools as it trails down my ass.
I lift my head and watch as Siro finishes himself. His head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth open as he gasps for air. His hips buck up as he cums in his fist. As he pants and writhes, I sit up to watch him, and something on the floor catches my eye. It’s a crumpled blue handkerchief with damp spots just beneath the desk.
A flush rolls over me, partly out of shame for not noticing the first time he came and partly out of a dirty type of pride for making him cum twice.
I strip my dress off and use it to wipe the arousal from my skin and the desk. Then use it as a place to discard the toys.
Siro’s fingertips ghosting along my thigh startles me. My butt bounces onto the desk as I jump.
“Are you sore?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “How are your ribs?”
“About to be a problem,” he huffs and winces as he sits up straighter, tucking his spent cock away. “I’m going to take a nap. Join me?”
I blink at him, feeling awkward about my nakedness and getting the sense I’m missing something. “Uh, sure.”
After cleaning the toys, giving my lower half a sink bath, and redressing, I find Siro in bed. Lying on his back, under the covers in the dead center.
“Will you lay against me?” he asks in a near mumble, his eyes closed.
I crawl into bed and lie on my back beside him. I press my arm against his. “Too much?”
Siro frowns and lifts his arm up. “Roll onto your side, facing away.”
As I follow his instructions, he loops his arm around me and pulls my back flush with his slide. I rest my head on his shoulder and fight the urge to snuggle in.
Several minutes pass in silence. When Siro snores softly, I finally allow myself to indulge in his embrace. Something’s changed, and I don’t think the pain meds are the source.
Chapter 11
Robyn
Siro’sarmslipsaroundmy waist as we climb the short marble steps to the mansion of his Capo Bruno for our sixth post-wedding event. Which takes place the day after Halloween and, much to my disappointment, is not a costume party. According to Siro, while both of us worked last night, most of the Fedeltà hit the clubs.
How Siro can attend these parties and then find the energy to run off to work is beyond me. Then again, he’s had years to hone his acting skills. At each event, Siro’s refused to match the behavior of the aloof couples around us and therefore reduce the amount I’m touching him. I drop the subject quickly.
“I want a pony,” I whisper over my shoulder after we’ve shaken hands with the hosts and grabbed glasses of champagne.
“No, you don’t. I might as well buy you a trampoline and an ATV,” he says around the rim of his glass, his eyes scanning the room. “You want a Ferrari or twice-weekly massages.”
I bite the insides of my cheeks to hold back a silly grin. “You know a lot about common ER trips?”
Siro’s thumb rubs my hip. He tucks me closer to his side and casts a glance down at me. “I read all of Fabi’s reports.”
“Oh yeah? Is he a riveting storyteller?”
“A knowledge of injuries is one of the few things we have in common. I try to maintain that.”
