Page 34 of The Mafioso’s Bride

“Do you want the ceiling fixture on?”

“The bedside lamp. Not the ceiling fixture.”

I switch on the lamp and close the door. She looks across the dark wood, gray sheets, and the bare nightstands. Nothing in this room belongs to her.

That changes tonight. I stand behind her and rest my hands on her hips. “I’m going to take off your shirt.”

“Yes.”

I pull the blue tardigrade shirt over her head. She isn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples tighten beneath my palms when I cup her breasts.

“More pressure,” she tells me.

I squeeze. Her head rests against my shoulder while I pinch one nipple, then the other.

“Again.”

I give her what she asks for until her hips move against mine. My cock strains against my trousers.

She turns in my arms and reaches for my belt. “All of you this time.”

“All of me.”

We undress each other beside the bed. Her thick socks remain. I leave them without comment and take a condom from the nightstand.

“That prevents pregnancy,” she says.

“Yes. Do you want me to use it?”

“Yes.”

I set it beside the lamp and guide her onto the mattress. Her hair spreads across my pillow. This bed has held women before her. None mattered once the door closed.

Giada matters everywhere.

I kneel between her legs. “I’m going to open your thighs with firm pressure.”

“Yes.”

My palms press her knees apart. She is already wet. I stroke her pussy, keeping my touch firm and direct.

“More,” she says.

Two fingers enter her. Her body closes tight around them.

“Does that hurt?”

“No. Curl them toward the front.”

I obey. Her hips lift from the bed.

“There.” She grips the sheets. “Keep doing that.”

I work her until her wetness coats my hand and her legs open wider for me. When I lower my mouth, I tell her before my tongue touches her clit.

“Firm,” she says.

I hold her hips against the mattress and use the rhythm she taught me. Each blunt instruction drives my cock against my stomach. Faster. Higher. Don’t change it.