His mouth moves lower, nipping at my collarbone, then my breasts. He bites down on one nipple, teeth grazing just hard enough to draw a gasp from me, before soothing it with his tongue. I writhe beneath him, the sensation shooting straight to my clit. He continues downward, licking a path over my stomach, his free hand parting my thighs.
When his head dips between my legs, I feel his hot breath first, then his tongue flattening against my folds.
He eats me out like he's savoring every inch, lips closing around my clit and sucking gently at first, then harder, sending sparks through my nerves. It's slow, agonizing, building the pressure without mercy.
I squirm, hips bucking up, but he holds me steady, his grip on my wrists unyielding. Moans spill from my lips, growing louder as the ache intensifies. "Giovanni... I can't... please..."
My begs turn incoherent, a jumble of his name and pleas, my body trembling on the edge.
Finally, he sucks harder, tongue flicking relentlessly, and I shatter, coming with a cry that leaves me shaking, waves of pleasure crashing over me.
He doesn't give me time to recover. Releasing my wrists, he positions himself between my legs, his cock hard and pressing at my entrance.
He thrusts in deep, filling me completely, and I wrap my legs around him as he fucks me into the mattress. Each powerful stroke hits that spot inside, building me up again fast. I claw at his back, moaning into his shoulder, and he drives harder, grunting with every plunge.
My second orgasm rips through me, clenching around him, and he follows right after, coming inside with a low groan, his release hot and pulsing.
We lie there panting, his forehead against mine, until his phone buzzes on the nightstand. He reaches for it, glancing at the screen, and his expression shifts—jaw tightening, eyes sharpening. He answers in clipped Italian, listening more than speaking, then hangs up.
"I have to go," he says, voice tense. "Business. You stay here, alright? Spoil yourself. Use the jacuzzi, relax. Don't even think about going to work. I'll handle everything. You, the bills, looking for Coral, checking on Rose. All of it."
I can see the call has wound him up, a shadow crossing his face, but his words ring true. I trust him on this. And if I’m being honest, I need this. Someone who’s willing to help me carry it all, let me catch a breath and stop spinning.
I nod and pull him down for one more kiss at the bedroom door, my hands lingering on his shirt. "Be careful.” From the little I know about mafia Dons and their worlds, it can get intense and dangerous. After the last few hours we’ve spent together, I now worry for Giovanni’s safety.
He nods. One second, he’s squeezing my hand and the next, he's gone, leaving the room echoing with quiet.
18
GIOVANNI
Brooklyn looks different from above.
Sharper. Angrier. All hard lines and impatience, steel and glass stacked high like the city is daring someone to blink first.
I keep my back to the concrete ledge of the opposite building and my eyes trained on the skyscraper across the street, its windows dark at this hour except for a handful of floors near the top.
Twenty-seven stories.
Private garage underneath. Limited exits. Too clean to be legitimate.
Matteo’s voice echoes in my head from earlier this morning, clipped and furious. Rose had been taken straight out of his house. From under his roof. A humiliation he wouldn’t forget and wouldn’t forgive.
Anton Pavlov forcing a marriage.
I roll the thought around and feel something cold settle behind my ribs. Anton had always liked ownership disguised as tradition. Matteo, on the other hand, doesn’t love easily. But when he does, it’s with enough force to destroy the world.
He hadn’t looked like a man planning a rescue. He’d looked like a man preparing a massacre.
Good.
My role tonight is simpler. I’m not here to storm the building or kick down doors. I’m here in case something slips through the cracks. In case someone runs.
Amber doesn’t know about this.
I made sure of it.
She’s relaxing in my bed, tangled in expensive sheets, breathing slow and even for the first time since the docks. Or sank in the jacuzzi, enjoying the hot water and luxurious soaps on her beautiful bronze skin. I picture her there for half a second longer than necessary, then push the thought away. This isn’t the moment for softness.
