Page 7 of Mafia’s Final Play

He cried out as his pleasure shot up his spine, straight back down and through his cock. His fingers tensed on her hips, held her tight to his body, as he let himself go at last. The pleasure only lasted a few seconds, if that long, but the build-up to it was exquisite, and that brief, eternal moment seemed to go on forever sometimes, as it did now.

She might only get one fuck out of him tonight. He knew that wasn’t true though, he’d find the will somewhere if she wanted another round. He always did. Not just to please her, though, but because he couldn’t get enough of her himself.

He crawled up the bed and pulled her into his arms a few moments later, and brushed her hair out of her face. “You alright?”

He could feel she was still trembling, and her right hand shook a little when she brought it up stroke his cheek. “I’m fine.”

Was she though? He watched her and soon the trembles stopped and she sighed happily. He watched her fingers and saw her pinky twitch a couple of times, but then that stopped too. She was alright.

“Can you stand up?” he asked with a laugh because he knew her legs would probably shake when she tried to get up.

“Maybe. Let’s try. I want some cranberry juice and maybe some vodka.” She laughed when she nearly fell on the floor, but she managed to stand up and walk with him to the kitchen. “I’ll have this, then grab a shower. We’ll watch a movie after if you want?”

“Sure, but maybe I’ll join you in the shower…” he started to say but she shook her head.

“No, you won’t, buddy. I need to scrub up and get to bed so my legs will stop shaking. Another round of that tonight and I won’t be able to get up tomorrow.” She gave him a look with her eyebrow cocked over her eye and he laughed.

With his hands held up, he turned away and opened the fridge to take out a bottle of apple juice. “Fine, fine. If that’s how you want to be. Movie and sleep, like old people do.”

“Oh, not quite honey. I doubt old people fuck like we just did.” She laughed, and it drew his eyes down to her naked breasts. Neither one of them had dressed and he couldn’t help but stare at her. Every inch of her was perfect.

“No, I doubt they do,” he muttered and pushed her up against the fridge to kiss her deep and long; a slow but soulful kiss that had her clinging to him with renewed hunger. “I hope this fridge doesn’t tip over.”

They were the last words he said before she pulled his head back down to hers for another kiss.

4

Matteo winced the next morning and pulled his sunglasses down as the sunlight hit his eyes. Marie’s attention kept him awake far past his bedtime the night before and his eyes watered at the strength of the sun. But the sting didn’t dim his smile as he got into his car, not even a little bit.

She might be restless, tired of being cooped up, and on the verge of tearing off the door and running out of the apartment, but she still wanted him. Maybe that was part of the reason she’d been so insatiable the night before, he reasoned as he pulled out into traffic and headed for the construction office. She had to burn off her energy somehow, and obviously, the treadmill wasn’t enough.

The smile stayed on his face when he walked through the door and saw how Penelope frowned at him. She stared at him with narrowed eyes as he started to whistle softly and pour out a cup of coffee.

“What’s wrong with you?” she finally asked when he waltzed into his office without closing the door as he usually did.

“Not a thing, Penelope. I’m just fine.” He looked up as she walked into his office, that smile still front and center.

“Are you sure you aren’t sick or something? You’re smiling. You don’t smile. Not like that, anyway.” Her accent wasn’t as refined as his, hers was more Bronx, the sound of the public school she’d attended. He was used to it, but he did miss the sweet, slow sound of Marie’s accent.

“I’m a man with a wife that keeps him happy, Penelope, is that a bad thing?” It was probably the most he’d ever revealed about himself to her and the shock made both of her eyebrows shoot up her forehead.

“You’re sick. I’m going to order you some soup for lunch.” She muttered the words as she walked away, taken off guard by his candor.

“I’m fine, really, Penelope,” he called out but she didn’t answer, she just sat out there muttering about newlyweds and how weird they were.

Matteo chuckled quietly and opened his laptop to begin his day. He had to go down to one of the warehouses to meet Anton after lunch, but for now, he needed to go over the information he’d received about the casino in Louisiana. He had several reports to go through for the other businesses they had up there in New York as well, so when his Skype started to ring, he breathed a sigh of annoyance. There was only one person that called him on Skype.

“Hello, Celeste,” he said as he got up to close his office door. When he came back around the desk, he saw her face on the screen.

Her face was in shadow, cast by a large-brimmed hat she wore, her eyes covered with sunglasses as she sipped at a glass of dark red wine. “Hello, Matteo. How are you, my boy?”

“I’m fine. How are you, Aunt?” His voice was crisp and to the point, without any emotion. He always shut down when he talked to her or was anywhere near her. That’s how she’d wanted him, emotionless and cold, so that’s what he gave her.

“And your little backwater wife? How is she? Knocked her up yet?” She popped an olive into her mouth and Matteo would have wondered where she was if he’d cared.

“No, I haven’t, and she’s fine.” He tried not to grind his jaw, but she made it hard not to. “What do you want, Celeste?”

“I want a lot of things, Matteo, but you defied me when you married that trashy girl. So now, I have to decide on new things to want. Unless you’d be kind enough to divorce the girl? She’s not our kind, you know? She’s far beneath you. Not at all what I had in mind for you.”