He slows, then stops, breathing hard.
Fuck.I’m still shaking, face buried in the pillow. He slides out and flips me over, gathering me in his arms. For a long moment, he holds me so tight I can barely breathe. I feel the wetness of his lips on my temple, the press of his chest against my ribs, the wild gallop of his heart.
“Good girl,” he says, and those two words areeverything.“I love you. Whether you miss a feed or sleep in, you’re the right girl to raise my children.” He holds me as I come down from that lesson. “You’re the perfect choice.”
CHAPTER FIVE
clay
Saturday morningsusually unfold with my sweet girl pinned beneath me—an unhurried claim—followed by a plunge in the heated pool with my boys, while Maggie, our cook, assembles breakfast on the veranda. It’s our tradition, routine, sun-drenched, easy.Domesticated… perhaps.
But not today. Today, I’m at my desk, eyes scanning the draft security plan for the wedding, mind running contingencies, the pool a distant priority.
After two hours, I’ve had enough for the morning. Leaning back in my chair, I exhale, my mind drifting to her. I know she wasn’t convinced by what I said this morning. I should have spanked her, kept her panting, left her wrung out and shaky until the only thing on her mind was how to keep from limping through the mansion, but here I am, focused on security and the Family.
‘This is supposed to be fun, Sir.’
Christ.The memory of my little deer’s words causes me to clench my teeth. I pick up my mobile and text Bronson.
Clay: Take Fawn out today for… fun.
Bronson: Fun is my middle name.
Clay: As long as you remember your last name and what it means. You will take eight members of security with you, and you will call each place you visit ahead of time.
Bronson: Aye, aye, Captain.
I’m going to regret this.
I set my phone on the desk.
But I want everything for her—even fun. Her insecurities run deep through her sweet young heart that was never loved. The scars from decades of deceit will not simply pale, so I will spend the rest of my life making sure she feels seen, heard, safe, and entitled to every fucking thing I can offer her. Which is—the world.
I want her mouth and mind spoilt, want her wardrobe full of frivolous, lavish things. I want her as needy, greedy, and entitled as her tight, wet pussy has become.
My desk phone rings—a landline call.
Interesting.
I pick up the receiver, and a scratchy, familiar Italian voice crackles down the phone. “I will be there, my boy,” Alceu announces. “As is proper.”
My palm flattens to the table as I recline in my seat again, glimpsing blonde hair drifting from behind the doorframe.
Hello, little deer.
Hiding and listening.
Such a nosy little thing.
“I expected as much,” I say smoothly. I have respect for this man, the Don of theCosa Nostrain Sicily—oldest and purestblood of the Five Families. Respect,yes, but now I demand it in return.
“Se?” His tone bristles. “You do?”
Once, I would’ve advised he needn’t come. Out of esteem, out of politeness, out of courtesy for his age; his final years are nigh. Now, I reply evenly, “Times have changed. You are required to attend my wedding. We will fly the entire Family here on my private plane, hire security, and provide accommodation.”
“Large words, my boy.”
Indeed.
