“Is he working with my father?”
“I'm going to try to find out.”
“Is there anything else?” I search his eyes, but they’re unreadable. Even when the corners of his mouth curl into a smirk.
“Yes.” He reaches behind me and pushes the dishes to the side. “I haven’t had breakfast.”
“Tommaso.” My voice shakes, but for an entirely new reason. It’s not out of anger or fear; it’s need and want.
I understand what he did to keep me safe, even if it was underhanded. And I can see and feel the intensity of his love for me, just as I can feel the intensity of my love for him.
But we’re outside on the balcony; even though people can’t see us, they can hear us.
He senses my hesitation. “Everyone has orders to stay clear of here for the next hour.”
Then his hand encircles my throat, but doesn’t squeeze. He only uses the pressure to push me back, so I’m lying on the table. When he removes his hand, I find myself missing it, wanting him to keep it there, to apply a bit of pressure.
My heart races at the thought, as well as from the feel of his warm, rough hands caressing my bare thighs.
I feel his breath against my skin and the brush of his scruff, and it makes me whimper.
I shift, trying to subtly tell him to start ‘eating his breakfast,’ to devour it. But he doesn’t rush.
Instead, he teases me with light caresses on my thighs, slowly moving higher. When he finally reaches my core, to my extreme frustration, he doesn’t touch me there. He runs his arm up the middle of my body, the weight of it telling me to lie still, and his hand comes around my neck once again.
I melt into the table, submitting to his quiet dominance; his silent command.
“Tommaso,” I beg, my core pulsing, untouched and needy.
“Lie still for me, love. Can you do that?” He brushes his scruff over the extremely sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Lie still for as long as you possibly can while I worship your pussy. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” I say breathlessly.
“Good girl.”
I moan at his praise. When he goes to remove his hand from my throat, I gasp out, “Don’t.”
He chuckles, and I feel the vibration across my flushed skin. But he leaves his hand there and even gives slightly tighter pressure.
When his tongue licks up my core, I jolt and moan, but quickly remember I’m to lie as still as possible for as long as possible. With the next swipe of his tongue, I relax into it and concentrate on keeping still while feeling him worship me. Rather than splitting my focus, it narrows it so the only thing that exists in the world right now is Tommaso and me and the feel of his tongue and mouth on me.
It’s like I fall into a trance, and I float on gentle waves of pleasure. The orgasm isn’t rapidly building or urgent; it’s like we have all the time in the world, and the only thing that a busy businessman and crime leader like Tommaso has to do is to worship me. His wife. The mother of his child.
Tears spill free and run down the side of my face, but I’m not crying because I’m sad or upset; the complete opposite. I feellike I’m the center of Tommaso’s world, his universe, and it’s intoxicating and overwhelming.
As my climax slowly builds and reaches the pinnacle, my body starts to quake.
“That’s it, wife, come on my face, soak my tongue.” The tender and dirty words are my undoing, and the galaxy erupts with a burst of light.
“Tommaso,” I cry, no longer able to remain still, and my back arches while I hold his wrist of his hand around my throat and reach for him with my other.
I open my eyes to see him standing above me, gripping his cock from his unzipped pants while remaining fully clothed. He feeds the thick length into me, agonizingly slow, inch by delicious inch, and my body yields, welcoming him into me.
I sigh in drunk bliss when he’s fully sheathed in me and wrap my legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer. He starts to move, slow and steady, his eyes locked on mine and shining with everything he isn’t saying.
Love. Devotion. Obsession.
He keeps his right hand on my neck and places his left on my exposed stomach. The action is so tender and loving that more tears spill down my face.
