The June air is warm against my exposed skin, but his breath is pure heat against my inner thigh. He hooks his fingers in my panties, dragging them down slowly, his green eyes never leaving mine. "Tell me you want this," he demands, even as his thumb finds my clit and circles slowly, making my hips lift off the stone. "Tell me you want me to worship you here, in your sanctuary."
"Yes," I gasp, my hands finding his hair, gripping tight. "Please, Alessandro. Make me forget everything but this."
His mouth descends, tongue sliding through my folds with devastating skill. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out, aware that guards patrol below, that anyone could walk onto this rooftop and find Alessandro Rosetti on his knees, devouring me under the stars. The danger makes everything sharper, more intense.
"Look at the stars while I eat you," he commands against my pussy, his fingers sliding inside me, curling forward to find that spot that makes me see constellations behind my eyelids. "Watch your precious Perseus while I make you come. Let him see who you really belong to."
I force my eyes open, staring up at the infinite darkness scattered with light while Alessandro's mouth works magic between my thighs. His tongue circles my clit while his fingers pump deeper, harder, and I can feel my orgasm building like a supernova about to explode.
"That's it, stellina," he encourages, adding another finger, stretching me. "Come for me under your stars. Let them all witness what you become when I touch you."
The combination of his words, his mouth, his fingers, and the vast universe above sends me over the edge. I come with Perseus and Cassiopeia as witnesses, my pussy clenching around his fingers while he laps up every drop of my release. The stars blur through my tears of pleasure as wave after wave crashes through me.
He doesn't stop, working me through the aftershocks until I'm trembling, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his shoulders. Only then does he crawl up my body, kissing me deep so I taste myself on his tongue, the evidence of my corruption and salvation mixed together.
"Tomorrow," he says against my lips, his cock hard against my hip through his pants, "tomorrow we go back to pretending. But tonight isn't over yet."
He stands, pulling me up with him, my legs shaky from my orgasm. The city glitters below us, dangerous and beautiful, but up here we've created our own universe. He backs me against the telescope, the warm brass making me gasp as he lifts me onto it, spreading my legs around his hips.
"I'm going to fuck you against the very telescope I gave you," he growls, working his belt open with one hand while the other grips my throat gently. "Every time you look at the stars through it, you'll remember this. Remember me inside you, claiming you in the one place you thought was just yours."
The promise in his voice, dark and possessive and absolute, makes my pussy clench with fresh need.
I trace patterns on Alessandro's chest and try not to think about the ghost that haunts this marriage. The real Frances is out there somewhere. Every day I wear her name, I'm stealing something that belongs to her.
What kind of woman abandons a mafia marriage and flees to Europe? Either a coward or someone with a better plan.
I'm starting to suspect Frances Hewson isn't a coward.
17 - Alessandro
The telescope’s brass is still warm from her hands when she kisses me again, and I taste stardust and truth on her tongue, everything I never knew I was starving for until this servant girl in designer heels tripped into my life.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer like she's trying to crawl inside my skin, and Christ, I'd let her. After twenty-seven years of calculated touches and practiced seduction, her desperate need makes every other woman I've touched feel like rehearsal for this moment.
"I've never," she says, breathily between kisses. "I don't want my first time to be up against a telescope."
Dammit, she's right. And I'm a selfish prick, as usual. My wife is a virgin, and I won't take her innocence on a damn rooftop.
"Inside," I growl against her mouth, the word scraping my throat raw. "Now."
Her pupils blow wide, and the way she nods, eager and nervous and completely present, makes my cock throb painfully against my zipper.
When I sweep her into my arms, she gasps, then presses her face against my neck. I feel her inhale deeply, memorizing my scent the same way I've been memorizing hers: vanilla and jasmine and something essentially her that no amount of designer perfume can mask.
Each step down the service stairs feels like descending into something sacred and profane at once. My bedroom door can'tcome fast enough. I manage the handle without putting her down, kicking it shut hard enough to rattle the frame. The lock clicks like a gunshot, sealing us in our own universe, away from telescopes and stars and the weight of who we're supposed to be.
City lights stream through floor-to-ceiling windows as I set her on her feet beside my bed. The silk sheets behind her gleam like sin, expensive and perfect like everything in my life that's never quite filled the hollow space inside me. But the way she looks at me, determined despite her trembling, hungry despite her innocence, nearly drops me to my knees.
"You're shaking," I observe, letting my hands slide down her arms, feeling the goosebumps rise under my touch. The scent of jasmine from the roof mingles with her natural vanilla sweetness that's been driving me insane since our wedding night. "Second thoughts about letting Chicago's most notorious playboy corrupt you?"
She yanks me down by my collar with surprising strength, crushing her mouth to mine. Her tongue slides against mine with shocking boldness, and I taste wine and starlight and decision.
"You’re corrupting me?" she says against my lips. "That's rich, considering you've had me dripping wet since our wedding night."
Fuck. Hearing that filthy confession from her innocent mouth, the same mouth that just taught me constellations with such patience, snaps something inside me. I grab her waist and grind her against my erection, letting her feel every thick inch of what she does to me.
"Careful, stellina," I warn, biting her lower lip hard enough to make her gasp. "Once I start, I won't stop until you're screaming my name so loud the guards think I'm murdering you. Until your pussy is so full of my cum you'll feel it dripping down your thighs tomorrow."
