When he makes a move to switch our positions, I slam my palms down on his shoulders. “You’re exactly where I want you,Irlandese.”
He groans again. Taking my hips he thrusts upward, fucking me from below. He can’t seem to resist being in charge, even when I’m on top. I love it.
My head falls back as I brace myself against his muscular chest. I meet him thrust for thrust, our tempo going from slow and steady to fast and sloppy. We take every ounce of pleasure the other has to offer—then demand more.
“Cian!” I come around his dick, my pussy milking him.
With a roar, he slams into me, burying himself deep. He fills me with so much cum it seeps out and coats my thighs.
I collapse onto his bare chest. Our ragged breathing the only sound in the living room.
“You’re not spent yet, are you,broc meala?” His breath warms the top of my head.
My murmur’s unintelligible. I feel like my entire body’s been steeped in lead, even the thought of moving a single finger is exhausting.
Cian rolls us over, bracing his weight on his forearms as he peers down at me. “You’re the most beautiful, stubborn woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. After all this time, I still can’t believe you’re my wife.”
In my contented state, all I can do is offer him a lazy grin.
He kisses the tip of my nose, then my lips. Sliding down my body, he feasts on my pussy until I’m begging him to fuck me again.
I love this man with all my heart.
CHAPTER 50
Ravenna
Tragedy has struck my family again. My uncle Davide is dead. While the loss of him is greatly felt by all, it could have been worse. That terrible day, I could have also lost both my aunt and Gin. Thank God they’re safe. Although I can’t help but wonder how Aunt Rosa is coping. She’s a much stronger woman than my mother was, so I think she’ll grieve but ultimately be okay.
Aunt Rosa’s home hosts the after funeral service. The place is packed with mafiosos and their wives. Everyone from the other family’s leaders, to foot soldiers have turned out to pay their respects and mourn.
But there’s one face I don’t immediately recognize. A newcomer. He’s tall, almost as tall as Cian, but completely the opposite in coloring. His skin’s a deep bronzed tan, with wavy black hair, and the most stunning blue-green eyes I’ve ever seen. A short, trimmed beard adds a kind of maturity to his look. He’d appear more boyish without the facial hair.
He glances my way, then does a double-take. His dark brow furrows. Seeming to make up his mind, he stalks my way.
“Ravenna,” he cautiously says, though it’s far from a question.
“Yes. Ravenna O’Rourke. I assume you know my sister.” I offer my hand and he shakes it.
“I do. I’m Maximo Pontrelli.” He has a smooth Italian accent.
“Nice to meet you. So, I’m guessing we’re distantly related.”
He bobs his head. “We are. Our fathers were cousins.”
“Which makes you my second cousin.” I muse.
“That’s correct. I’m deeply sorry for your loss. I did not know don Davide well at all, but my father spoke highly of him. I did make a study of the family tree a while ago. You had a brother who also passed on, I believe.”
“Yes. Matteo.” I try not to grimace as I speak his name. I haven’t spared my dead brother a thought in a very long time.
“Right. Had he lived, he would have been don after your father’s passing, and certainly after your uncle’s early grave. Since you have no more male relatives in this country, it seems I’m next in line.”
“Next in line… to be don of the Pontrelli family?” I clarify.
“You seem surprised.”
“I am.”
