He runs a gentle thumb across my bottom lip. “Never.”
“Well then?” I raise a brow.
“I’m not stopping you, not if it’s what you really want.”
In answer, I undo his pants with only slightly shaky hands, pulling out his mostly-soft cock. It doesn’t stay soft for long, though. Not when I lower my head, groaning at the delicious sting from his hand in my hair, and take him into my mouth.
He grows hard as he slides along my tongue, and we both moan at the sensation. Allesandro lets me play with him for a bit, easing him in and out of my mouth, opening my throat for him as I get higher on my knees and sink lower on his dick.
Closing my eyes, all I can do is imagine his thick length filling my ass, his knife and teeth against my skin as he makes me his.
Swallowing him down, I groan, encouraging him to hold me there as he grunts and starts to lift his hips. When he realizes I won’t fight him, that Iwantthis, he gives in, owning my mouthlike he already owns my heart. And the pieces that still love my husband shatter, even as my soul sings at having my heart take what's rightfully his.
It’s rough and brutal, and for one panicked moment, I’m not sure he’s aware of who’s mouth he’s fucking. And then he pulls me back by my hair and kisses me, his mouth and tongue owning mine.
“I got you, Dolce Cuore.”
When he guides me back onto his cock, I know his words are the truth, and I have never felt safer, or more cared for.
Stripping off my shirt, I pause my workout. I’ve already completed one circuit on the equipment, but while my body is beginning to tire, my mind is not. Gearing up, I head to the punching bag.
I wish Ignacio was here to spar with,I think, hating the feeling of guilt that chases that thought. I didn’t lie to Cristian. It was his right to make the decision he did, but fuck. My Boys…
I give the bag several jabs before a side-kick. My mind ruminates on the issues hanging over my head. Part of me is impressed with Marcus. With all the training I poured into him, it’s an accomplishment that he managed to pull my supplier away from me. But fuck. That’s a hard hit to take.
I follow up with a couple of cross punches, visualizing my suppliers—or ex-suppliers, I suppose. It might be best to remind the cartel that Marcus is the reason several of their membersare dead…except, fuck. That may end with Marcus being killed, and that would be such a fucking waste. I still plan on getting my Boys back, and I want them alive when that happens. Even fucking Benjamin.
Emilio would never forgive me if something happened to his best friend, and despite my hasty words, I know I can’t kill the thorn in my side. I just need to figure out a way to manage the situation—after I get my Family back.
Growling, I step up the punches and kicks until sweat is pouring off me, interfering with my vision. Emilio… Fuck. That’s the biggest issue. I shouldn’t have crossed that line with Cristian. We both needed the connection, and my Sweetheart was willing to give himself over to me. But…fuck. I hate this sticky dark feeling.
Emilio and I have never had a closed relationship, yet it feels like I fucking cheated on him. Was it that way with him and Hollis? Did his system revolt in the beginning? Or fuck, did he not even care? While I sat there trying to keep Cristian and me alive…
The bag splits under the pressure from my next jab and I stumble back, collapsing onto the mat. I draw my knees to my chest and hang my head down, taking deep pulls of air that burn my lungs. Fuck. It’s no longer sweat that is dripping down, it's tears.
“Are you finished with your tantrum, Nipote?”
I scrub at my face, desperately trying to hide the evidence of my weakness. I clear my throat, trying to push away the lump that seems to want to choke me. Raising my eyes, I stare at my uncle as he drags a chair in front of me before sitting.
“There’s no tantrum, Zio. I was working out.”
“Ah. I never took you for a liar. Then again, I never thought I’d live to see you become your father, either.” His mournful stare hits me hard, but I shake my head, refusing his assertion.“You want to argue that? Despite almost all of your Boys having left?”
“They’ll be back.” I squeeze my hands into fists. The punching bag may have been a sacrifice to my issues, but it didn’t calm me nearly enough.
My uncle just sighs, running his fingers through hair that’s steadily turned white over the years, especially since losing my aunt. “And if they don’t?”
“Then I’ll go get them,” I spit out. “I’ll throw them in the black room, if I need to make one.”
Snorting, my uncle eyes me with pity. “That will no longer work. You know better. I’ve seen your Boys grow. I’ve heard how they all worked together to find you and Cristian. It’s impressive—and it could be to your credit, if you stop fucking up.”
I scramble to my feet, unwilling to take this sitting down. “That’s bullshit. And what did they do? Fall for other people. Break up. Betray us.”
“Us?” my uncle says lightly, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Ah, you must mean Cristian.”
“Yes. He is mine. Even though the Boys have chosen to be disloyal, he is here with me. I have him.”
I stumble back when my uncle starts to laugh. “Sei un idiota! You don’t have Cristian. You have a burning man. The feelings that are there aren’t real. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore than you do. You think because you faced something together that you owe each other? Idiota. Your Boys have stood by you for far longer, and yet you’re turning your back on them. Fedeltà. Have you forgotten that?”
