“Come for me, Princess. Let go with me. Give it to me. Come.”
Her moans deepen, her hips lifting to meet my hard thrusts, welcoming me into her tight, wet heat. When she closes her eyes and lets out a loud moan, I growl harshly, “Eyes on me.”
She obeys.
Bracing my other hand on the mattress beside her head, I let go completely, feeling her body shudder beneath me. Her hands clench into the sheets as I release a deep, guttural growl, filling the condom while she trembles under my cock. She grinds her hips against me, milking every last wave of pleasure from our climax.
Panting, I sit back, taking in the sight of her. Her eyes are closed, lost in the haze of her orgasm. Her arms are sprawled out on the sheets, her beautiful breasts rising and falling with every breath, firm and flawless. Her pink nipples stand stiff, like perfect little gems.
My gaze drifts lower to my cock, still buried to the hilt between her soft, pink folds. I have to admit, this is one of the prettiest pussies I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot.
When I finally pull out, her body shudders from the emptiness. I remove the condom, tie it off, and toss it into the plastic bag I brought with me. No evidence can be left behind, nothing that could put Lucia in danger. Not until I’m done with her.
Lighting a cigarette, I lean back against the headboard, stretching my legs out on the bed. Lucia lies opposite me, still too drained to move.
By the time my cigarette is halfway finished, her eyes flutter open. She immediately grabs the sheet and pulls it over her body. Her gaze briefly flicks to my cock before her face flushes crimson, and she quickly looks away.
I exhale a cloud of smoke, my breath and voice steady now. “Never seen a cock before, Princess?”
Her face flushes even deeper, which only makes me laugh. “Not surprising. Nineteen years locked up in Pietro’s cage and another year in Carlo’s. Don’t worry, though, at least you got lucky. not every girl gets to ride this.”
She shoots me a sideways glance, but stays silent. I’d bet anything that if she had the courage, she’d be cursing me out right now.
Taking another drag from my cigarette, I ask, “How do you want your money? If I transfer it to your account, the whole world will know. I can bring it in cash next time, if you prefer.”
She props herself up slightly, her expression hesitant. “Aren’t you curious what I need so much money for?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Honestly, it’s better that way. I’m already known for tipping prostitutes well. You’re special, so your tip should be special too.”
Her face goes pale, and the hurt in her eyes is impossible to miss. I can’t help myself. I want to needle her. That bastard husband of hers has worked me up tonight, and now, tough break for her, she’s the one catching the heat.
“You’re comparing me to a whore?”
I let out a heavy breath, irritated by the diversion. “How do you want the money, Lucia?”
For a moment she glares at me with pure hatred. It almost makes me smile. I know all it would take is a deep kiss and she’d melt in my arms again.
She presses her lips together, clearly fighting with herself, then says quietly, “Bitcoin. Buy the equivalent and put the details on a flash drive.”
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, fire off a quick text to Rafael, and toss it aside. “Done.”
Then I stub out my cigarette and turn back to her. “Now be a good girl and pour me a glass of Scotch, Princess.”
NINE
Lucia
A cool breeze drifts through the open window, rustling the trees outside and brushing against my heated skin. It’s past midnight and I’m still awake, rocking slowly in the chair by the window, lost in thought.
Two weeks have passed since Don Fernando’s accident. He’s still in the hospital, out of his coma, but the doctors say he’ll never be the same. Almost his entire body is paralyzed, and the brain damage is irreversible.
No one seems to care. No one except Carlo.
Carmen is still lost in her own world—shopping, laughing, pretending nothing happened. Brando runs the casino as usual and, from what I’ve heard, has only visited his father at the hospital once. And Tony… Tony hasn’t returned since the day he left.
Carlo is the only one falling apart. I’ve only seen him once in these two weeks, coming out of his father’s office. For the first time, I saw that strong man bowed under the weight of grief.
The bond between Carlo and Don Fernando went beyond that of father and son. They were like a master and disciple, bound by mutual respect and loyalty. And now, because of something as silly as a truck with failed brakes, Carlo has lost his greatest supporter and role model.
