Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I want you in me,” she says in a plea that’s nearly a moan. “Please, Salvatore, I want your cock in me.” I thrust into her, grateful she can take me like this now. With her arms around my neck she holds on tight and her beautiful legs wrap around me. Every thrust feels like a claiming, a punishment, a branding. I fuck her until my balls clench and my release spills inside her, marking her as mine. She moans into another orgasm, gasping for breath as we come together.
I hold her. Her heartbeat hammers against my chest. My senses are alert, as if the lines of my existence are painted in bright swaths of color, vivid and clear.
“Was that a fucking triple?”
She sags against my chest. “I maybe lost count. Holy shit. I don’t know how I’ll be able to go to this party. I… can’t even walk. I don’t know how you’re still breathing.” She gasps again. “I’m trying to remember how.”
I hold her against me. I steal this one moment of peace with her before God knows what happens next. We can’t go on like this, I know it.
“Let’s do that again sometime,” she says with a grin.
“We will.”
It only takes a few minutes to clean up. She needs a little help getting ready for the party, but soon, she’s all dolled up and as gorgeous as ever. Grinning at me, she looks as if she wants to dance. I half wonder why it took me this long to get her a damn edible.
“I think a little bit of my lipstick is on your collar, sir,” she says with a giggle.
I look down. It’s barely noticeable. “Well, would you look at that.”
For some reason this makes her giggle. She damn near thinks it’s hysterical.
Fully dressed and put back together, I look down at my phone and realize I have ten missed calls. Fuck.
I pick up my phone and scroll—my mom, Cristiano, a couple of my men, including Federico.
Federico's message gets straight to the point. "Got what you asked me for."
A part of me wishes I could leave well enough alone, but I know better than that.
I take Marialena's hand. I wonder what my next course of action is. She's answered what I needed to know. She’s confirmed the truth.
I either shield her from what happens next or drag her straight through it.
“You okay?” she asks. “We just had like the most incredible sex ever and you look a little out of it. I feel like I could sleep for days, but I think we need to go play host and hostess, and I seriously hope they have some good desserts down there. I need—”
“Chocolate,” I finish for her. “I can arrange that.”
I evade the question. No, I’m not alright at all.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Marialena
I’m not really sure what’s going on with Salvatore. One minute he’s holding me, we’re making love with such intensity I see stars, and the next, he’s pulling away. I want to reach out to him and pull him back to me, hold him so he stays right here with me, so that I know nothing will change.
But I can’t do that. If we are going to love each other—really, truly love each other—I need to be able to trust that he’ll come back to me. I need to trust the authenticity of his feelings for me. I can’t control him and fear the loss of his time or attention.
That’s easier said than done, though, when you’ve seen what I have and experienced what I have.
“Okay, alright,” I whisper to myself. “Get your shit together. You have a job to do, and you’re no longer Marialena Rossi. You are Marialena Capo, and your husband is counting on you.”
I meet up with my sister and brothers, and we head downstairs.
“Shit,” Mario says to me under his breath. “Has he told you who’s coming tonight?”
I shake my head, suddenly apprehensive. “Uh, no…? Who?”
“Literally everyone. I guess it’s tradition down here for men like him to have a post-wedding party.”
“Right,” Romeo says. “Since most of the weddings are arranged, or a quick one like yours, they take the opportunity to spread it wide and clear that you’re married now.”
“Got it. So… give me names?”
I feel my eyes widen as I hear the names of our friends and enemies, associates and alliances, and names I’ve never heard before. “Castellanos… Campanelles… Regazzas…” And before he finishes, I see my cousin Sergio in the background.
“Montavios,” I supply.
“Yup.”
I look around the room to locate my husband, but before I can find him, he finds me. I feel his familiar warmth and his hand on the small of my back, his rough voice in my ear. “You look lovely,” he whispers. “No one would know how you got that flush on your cheeks…”
“Salvatore,” I hiss. “Behave yourself, please.”