Hearing her desperation bounce off the walls undid me. I drilled into her harder. “Goddamn, baby. You feel so good. Sei magnifico.”
“Oh, Ciro… I wish you spoke to me in Italian more often. When you do, I fall more deeply in love with you.”
No!
I stilled at her words and tugged on her hair so I could reach her mouth and shut her the fuck up.
“Ciro!” She shrieked in pain, her eyes tearing up. “Did I do something wrong?”
A pang of guilt stabbed me in the heart. It would kill me to hurt her, but I knew I would. If not by my own hand, then by one of my enemy’s.
I was a selfish asshole for keeping Isla and doing things to make her love me.
“Shh… Sei perfetta, tesoro.” I pressed a firm kiss to her lips and released her hair to grip her hips firmly. There might be bruises afterward. “You’re perfect.”
In one final thrust, I let go and filled her with my cum, grunting through my release while she howled her pleasure.
We were perfect together.
Made for each other.
Isla owned my heart. I only hoped she felt how much she meant to me.
However, giving her the wordsI love you?
I couldn’t go there. Ever.
2
CIRO
All evening,Isla captivated my attention. She always had, like no other woman before her, because her heart was as pure as ivory and as sweet as honey. But in the bedroom, she turned into a seductress on a mission to have her way with me.
It killed me how perfect we were together. Equal stamina. Same taste for depravity.
Outside of our incredible sex life, she cared deeply about people and the environment. She ate healthy, all organic, mostly vegan, unless the meat had come from one of the animals we raised on the estate.
Happy, well cared for animals were important to Isla. She also loved to cook and wanted to see what went into the pot, skillet, or oven.
And she didn’t douse her body in heavy, chemical laden perfumes. The one she wore was made with all natural ingredients. She didn’t apply layers of makeup on her pretty face either. Like tonight, she only wore enough to enhance her natural beauty.
Isla was stunning, a classic beauty. The kind of woman who could stand the test of time.
I was the luckiest man alive to call her mine, but the world would never know what she meant to me, nor would she.
From my vantage point, I observed Isla mingling with my guests. She smiled and laughed, despite hating these parties. The schmoozing and fake formalities grated on her nerves, as they did mine. But it was what it was, and part of my responsibility as the head of my famiglia.
We hosted a few parties a year, catering to celebrities, politicians, top leaders in our crime circle. Andmodels, who were only here to meet wealthy men and make them happy.
I, of course, was used to the fanfare, ass-kissing, and women fussing over me.
But after more than a year together, Isla hadn’t gotten used to any of it. Not the pictures I took with “leggy blondes,” as she’d called them. Or the occasional kiss on the cheek… and sometimes on the lips.
None of it meant anything to me. It was only an act. A small part of my lifestyle.
Regardless, it meant something to Isla. It meant a lot to her.
My lovely lady was hanging on by a thread, ready to snap at any second. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do to change who I was or shield her from my dirty dealings. God knew I tried.
