My wife is undoing me.
I line up behind her and thrust in deep in one powerful stroke.“Take my dick, wife.All of it.”
Because she’s so wet, so fucking hot and responsive, I set a hard rhythm, moving my hips as the sound of skin on skin fills the room.
Her breasts sway beneath her, clamps tugging with every thrust, and I reach around to play with them—squeezing the soft flesh, flicking the clamps until she’s whimpering, pushing back into every drive.“These tits are mine.This pussy is mine.You’re mine in every fucking way.”
“Yes!Yes, Dante.”
I feel another orgasm building in her—the way her walls tighten, the desperate little sounds she makes.I reach down and circle her clit with two fingers.“Come again.Do it right now.Squeeze my cock while I fuck you from behind.”
She breaks, sobbing my name, body convulsing around me so hard I see stars.Only then do I let go.I bury myself to the root, hips grinding, and spill deep inside her—hot pulses that mark her, claim her, fill her until she’s dripping with me.
I collapse over her, careful not to crush her, forehead pressed to her shoulder.
Our breaths mingle, ragged and synced.My chest feels too tight, too full.Marrying her was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
She’s brilliant.
She understands the score.
She’s passionate in ways that wreck me.
Valentina Russo Moretti could well be the greatest ally I’ve ever known.
And tonight, with her body still trembling beneath mine and my cum inside her, I realize something deeper.I don’t just want her submission.I want her heart.I want her to choose this the way I already have.
I kiss her nape, soft now, reverent.“You’re everything, Valentina.My wife.My partner.”The words slip out raw and true.
Gently I remove the clamps, soothing the sting with my mouth, then roll us so she’s curled against my chest.My arms lock around her like I’ll never let go.
She fits here.Perfectly.And for a few heartbeats, I glimpse the future I want.
Until reality intrudes.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Valentina
Even a few days ago, there’s no way that I could have imagined that my life would look like this.
The Hill Country unfolds around us in slow, rolling waves of green and gold as the SUV winds along the narrow road toward Fredericksburg.Oak trees lean lazily over the shoulders of the highway, their shadows sliding across the windshield in long, shifting bands of shade.
Texas is much quieter here than it is in Dallas.
It’s not soft exactly—this is still a land of stubborn soil and hard sun.But there’s a kind of quiet that allows me to breathe.
Or maybe it’s because of the man sitting beside me.
The man I was forced to marry.
We’re in the back seat, and my hand is tucked inside his.And in this moment, the world feels strangely calm.
Almost normal.
Which is ridiculous, when I think about it.
Less than a week ago, I was acting as my father’s consigliere, helping him and my brother run operations.
