“There are so many ways I could fuck you,” I growl, letting go of her breast with apopas I curl my hand around the back of her neck and drag her mouth to mine. “So many ways I could make you come for me.Fuck, Annie, you feel so fucking good?—”
I press my forehead to hers, rolling my hips up into her, my thumb working her clit as I drive us both toward another climax. She’s panting now, her chest heaving, gripping my shoulders as she tries to ride me and I fuck her as hard as I can manage. She cries out again, arching her back, and I find her throat with my mouth, sucking hard as I feel my cock twitch, and I know I’m on the edge.
“Come for me,cuore mio,” I whisper. “Come on my cock so I can come for you.”
Not spurting inside of her is the hardest thing I’ve ever fucking done, as she throws her head back and moans, her inner muscles clenching me hard as she starts to orgasm again. I’m so fucking close, my balls tight and heat burning up my spine, but I can’t make the same mistake twice. I cling to my release as long as I can, my cock throbbing as Annie moans and grinds on my lap, nearly sobbing with pleasure as I rub her clit through her climax.
The moment I feel it start to ebb, I lift her off of my cock, pulling her tight against the base of it as I grab my length and give it two quick jerks. I feel it spasm in my hand as I start to come, thick white spurts jetting up over her stomach, her breasts, up to the hollow of her throat as I paint her in my cum, holding her tight against me as I push the head into her belly and drag it through the splatters of it on her skin.
“Elio—” Annie gasps, her hips still arching against me. “Oh god, I want you to fuck me again.”
I laugh raggedly, feeling myself finally starting to soften in my fist. “Maybe later,” I murmur, knowing that this is a losing battle. I don’t know how long we have left, but I don’t want to spend it all fighting with her over whether or not we should make the most of it.
At this point, I’m not going to win that fight. Not with her or with myself. I might as well give myself something to remember while I have her.
“I’ve never gone twice back to back like that,” I tell her, standing with her still in my arms as I carry her to the shower. “You’re the only one who gets me that fucking hard.”
Her expression is pensive when I set her down, almost sad. “I wish I’d been your first, too,” she whispers. “I wish we hadn’t stopped that day. I would have been, if we hadn’t, right?”
Something in my chest clenches tightly. “Yeah,” I admit. “I didn’t sleep with anyone until I went to Chicago. You would have been my first.”
“We shouldn’t have stopped,” she whispers. “Even if you had to go. We should have had that much, Elio.”
The pain in her eyes wrenches something inside of me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I mean it. I cross the room to her, tangling my hand in her hair, and I kiss her, long and slow and deep, whispering the words against her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Show me.” She arches against me, my cum still warm on her skin, andChrist, my cock starts to fucking harden again. “Show me how sorry you are, Elio.”
I lift her up, setting her on the edge of the counter. She spreads her thighs, pulling me to her, and I slide into her, groaning as I feel her take me.
This time, it’s slow, and it lasts. I fuck her until we’re both close, and then I slide out of her and kneel down, licking her until she comes on my tongue while I stroke myself to the very edge. I pull her down from the counter, turn her around, and slip into her once more, giving myself a few more blissful thrusts before I pull out and coat her ass and back with my cum the same way I did her stomach and breasts a little while ago. She looks at me in the mirror as I come, her gaze fixed on mine, and I swear I’ve never come so hard, even though it’s my third in an hour, something that’s never fucking happened before.
I can’t get enough of her. And as we both step into the shower together, all I can think is that I have to find some way for this not to end.
I wonder, as I stand there under the hot spray, what would happen if I offered to give up everything. If I told Ronan that I didn’t come back for enough power to have Annie. That all I want is her, even if it means I have nothing else.
More than likely, he’d say that means I’m not good enough for her. I wasn’t good enough for her before, when I was just Elio Cattaneo, and not a don.
But I know if that was what it took, that’s what I’d do. There’s nothing in the world more precious than her.
And there’s nothing I wouldn’t give up, even my own life, to have as much time with her as I can possibly get.
23
ELIO
Aweek after the church, Desmond Connelly is still a ghost.
I've had men watching every property he owns, every business he's connected to, every known associate. Nothing. It's like he vanished into thin air after escaping St. Catherine's, and the not knowing is eating me alive. Every hour that passes is another hour Annie isn't safe, another hour this web of lies grows more tangled, another hour closer to everything falling apart. Ronan grows more suspicious with every passing day, and I struggle to find ways to believably make it seem as if I’m getting closer to finding Annie.
When I’m back at the safe house, with her, there are moments when I don’t think about it. When my face is buried between her thighs, when I’m deep inside of her, when pleasure wipes everything else away—I can pretend that none of this is happening. That we’re on a honeymoon. That we’re on a vacation. That our marriage is real and sanctioned, and that the marriage certificate might not also be my death warrant.
I'm standing in the safe house kitchen, staring at the map spread across the table, marked with red pins for every locationwe've checked. My phone buzzes with another update from Diego:Still nothing. Checking some spots near the docks next.
I toss the phone down harder than I mean to, and it skitters across the table. The sound makes Annie look up from where she's standing by the stove, making tea. It’s about the only thing she can make without burning the house down, but I don’t care. I like cooking for her. I wish I’d had more time to, these past days, but the situation is rapidly deteriorating.
It’s made worse by the fact that I both want Desmond dead and Ronan’s mind set at ease, and at the same time, not to have to let Annie go. But those things are mutually exclusive.
"Nothing?" she asks quietly.
