The Don’s Deadly Assassin

24. Vincenzo

Vincenzo

Chapter 24

I pace back and forth near the food stalls, balancing the two plates of rosti and sausages as I look out for Camela. It feels like an eternity since she left and I’m wondering if she got lost.

Should I go and look for her? Even the most seasoned visitor could take a wrong turn in the winding streets of the night market.

Then I spot a colorful skirt through the crowd and a wave of relief washes over me as Camela finally arrives. Her face is flushed, her breathing slightly labored, and it's evident something has happened. I rush towards her, my concern growing by the second.

"Camela, are you alright?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

She smiles weakly, attempting to reassure me. "Yes, Vincenzo, I'm fine. Just a little out of breath from rushing back to you. It was so crowded … I got overwhelmed and a little lost.”

"Are you sure, cara mia?" I press on, not quite ready to drop my concerns. "You seem... off."

She sighs, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "Really, Vincenzo, I promise. I just had a bit of a scare when I couldn’t find the right place on my way back. Nothing to worry about."

"Alright," I relent, giving her a smile. "Let's eat, then. You must be starving."

"Let's dig in," she gushes, forcing a smile onto her face. At least, it looks forced to me. I worry if there’s something she might be keeping from me, but decide not to question her further, at the risk of sounding intrusive. "This all looks amazing, Vincenzo."

"You’re welcome," I reply, watching as she eagerly digs into the food. As we eat, I try to put aside my lingering doubts and focus on the meal in front of us.

Once we finish eating, we stroll back to the car, driving home in companionable silence while we listen to some music. So much has happened today, with that video message that the lawyer delivered, that I can use some time to think.

I remind myself to call my men first thing in the morning, to see if they found that arrow. If they don’t find it…

We’ll, the hunt for my friend’s murderer could take while. But I’m willing to put in as many resources as necessary.

As we pull up to the house and step out of the car, I notice Camela’s arms are empty.

"Camela, where's your new waistcoat? Is it still in the car?”

I open the car door again and begin to searching the interior for the missing garment. I check her seat, the backseat, the side storages. Nothing.

"Could it be under your seat?" I ask, my disappointment evident on my face as I lean into the car, ready to turn the seat back to search for the waistcoat. Just as my hand reaches for the lever, Camela's voice stops me.

"Vincenzo, wait," she says softly, placing a hand on my arm.

I pause and straighten, turning to look up at where she’s standing on the steps. Her eyes are filled with regret, and I can tell she's struggling to find the right words. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "The waistcoat... I lost it when I went to the washroom today. I didn't mean to."

"Lost it?" I repeat. “The very first gift I ever bought you?”

Camela bites her lip, clearly upset by the situation. "I was just so overwhelmed and wasn’t thinking right. I left it near the sink before heading into the washroom, and when I came out, it was nowhere to be found. It meant so much to me and I feel terrible for losing it,” she looks away, trying to blink back tears.

I take a deep breath, trying to quell my irritation. The disappointment at the lost gift battles with my growing concern for Camela's well-being. Not only did she get disorientated alone on her way back from the washroom, but she seems genuinely distraught by the situation, and I can't help but feel guilty for compounding her distress with my indignation.

"It's okay, Camela," I say softly, reaching out to gently cup her face in my hands. "It's just a waistcoat. I can always get you another one. But I’m worried about what’s going on. You just seem … a little off today."

“I’m sorry, Vincenzo,” Camela replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She leans into my touch for a moment before stepping back, her expression conflicted.

"Today has been... overwhelming. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what the lawyer said. If Professor Castellano was killed for this arrow, and you’re out there looking for it now, how soon before people find out? Before they come looking for you too? I’ve been worried sick over your safety, Vincenzo,” her voice chokes up at the end.

My heart skips a beat at her words, and my concern for the lost waistcoat pales in comparison to the new threat. Camela’s worried for me. That can’t do. It’s my job to worry for her, to keep her safe, to soothe her fears.

As much as I want to plan out how to find my friend’s killer and this arrow, I still force myself to stay focused on Camela, who is clearly shaken by the day’s events.

As I gaze into her eyes, their deep brown depths shimmering with unshed tears, any lingering disappointment over the lost waistcoat dissipates. My heart swells with love for her, and I suddenly feel foolish for allowing something as trivial as a missing gift to come between us.

"Camela," I say softly, reaching out to gently touch her arm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made such a big deal about the waistcoat. It's not important."

Her gaze flickers to mine, surprised. "Vincenzo..."

"No, really, anyway. What matters more is that you're here, with me. We'll face whatever challenges come our way together. Please, trust me when I say there’s no place safer for me than here," I sweep my arms in a wide circle, to show that I mean my compound.

She looks doubtful.

“I have my men stationed everywhere, security the Israeli army would be jealous of. When I leave these walls, a convoy of the world’s best trained fighters surround my vehicle. Please, do not worry yourself so for my safety.”

A slow smile spreads across her face, and she nods. “You’re right,” she looks at the armed men around the boundary walls.

“I know I’m right,” I tell her, puffing up my chest in an exaggerated motion.

It gets a laugh out of her.

“Now,” I tell her, taking her by surprise as I place my hands below her knees and behind her neck and lift her into my arms. “We’re going to make sure tonight ends on a damn perfect note.”

I carry a giggling Camela up to my room and kick open the door. The dim glow of the city’s lights filters through the curtains, casting a soft light over the room as we step inside. With every step I take, the desire to feel Camela grows stronger.

“Camela,” I whisper, as I set her down on her feet. “Remind me? Did I tell you how ravishing you’ looked tonight?”

She looks up at me with wide eyes, like she doesn’t buy the compliment. I inch closer, and place my hands around her corseted waist. “Truly,” I whisper in her ear, ending it with a little nibble. “A woman from an era bygone. So beautiful,” I pull off a hand from her waist, and tuck back a strand of her hair.

She gets on her toes and presses her lips against mine, silencing any further words that threatened to spill out. The taste of her lips, soft and warm, sends a pleasant shiver down my spine as I wrap my arms around her.

In that moment, the entire day melts away, to make this moment the only moment which truly matters.

Our bodies meld together, fitting perfectly like two halves of one rock. I suck her lower lip like a man seeking vengeance for being denied this kiss too long. She returns the intensity, her hands gripping my shirt as if she fears letting go would mean losing me forever.

Then, I reach down and squeeze her thigh below her ass. She understands and steps back. I lift her over my shoulder and carry her to the bed, laying her down.

I gently position myself over her, and take one hand to slide it through the flat strings tying her skirt closed. It doesn’t budge. I lower myself and pull the string off with my teeth.

The skirt loosens and she looks at me with heated desire in her eyes, her chest rising and falling through that corset.

I discard the skirt to the floor, leaving her in nothing but delicate lingerie that accentuates every curve of her hips.

She sits up and reaches for the clasps of her corset, but I stop her with a gentle touch.

"Leave it on," I tell her, my eyes locked on her beautiful face. Slowly, they trace down to where they curve around her breasts, which spill out over the edges, giving her a glorious form that belongs in a piece of art. "You look absolutely stunning in it."

A blush creeps across her cheeks, but she doesn't argue, her fingers intertwining with mine instead. I lift them to my lips, and kiss them gently, before placing them back by her side.

The moonlight pours through the window, casting a silvery glow on Camela's skin as I slowly reach for the elastic of her panties. I twist my fingers through it, tugging the panties against her skin and she moans, lifting her hips.

I smile and slowly remove her panties, revealing the full extent of her beauty. There’s a trail of goosebumps at every spot my fingers touched.

"Vincenzo," she whispers, her voice soft and inviting. "Please... touch me."

Her plea sends a jolt of desire through me. I part her thighs roughly and hear her breath hitch in her throat. I position my head between her thighs and flick my tongue through her pussy.

Then, I begin to lap at her, a consuming hunger growing in me. My hands grip her hips, pulling her softness deeper into my mouth to reach as much of her as I can.

Camela moans loudly, her hands coming to my head to hold on as I lap at her pussy, her hips bucking against my mouth. I can feel the heat radiating from her, the wetness that speaks to how aroused she is, and I feel god damn proud.

“You’re mine,” I say, pulling my mouth away and slamming a finger in her. Her torso jumps off the bed, before falling back down. I grin and curve my finger, slamming at her clit from inside her.

She moans and closes her eyes, her hands clutching the sheets, as I take my tongue down on her clit.

I put another finger in her, and begin to pound her with them, my tongue lapping at her clit, my teeth gently grazing. I want to make her scream, to make her beg for more.

As I ravage her with my mouth and fingers, I hear her sweet, soulful voice, "Vincenzo, I'm close... don't stop." I can feel her muscles tightening, her body arching, as the pleasure consumes her.

Without thinking, I pick up the pace, smashing my fingers against her wall in swift, brisk motions. I maintain the pace, and her body writhes. I take one hand and place it on her stomach, holding her down, making sure the position doesn’t change, and then, she erupts.

“Oh my god,” she screams, trembling in every cell. Her climax is violent, and her wetness gushes into my mouth. I feel her muscles clench against my fingers, almost crushing them, but I carry on until the last contraction passes.

I feel her melt into the sheets, tired, exhausted. Slowly, I pull out my fingers, and lift up my head. She’s sheathed in a thin layer of sweat, her breasts heaving with tremendous effort.

I did that, I think to myself with a grin.

I reach up and lie next to her, prepared to let her sleep in my arms. She’s had a tiring day.

But, to my surprise, the little minx wants more.

"Your turn," she says, her voice husky and seductive. She flips me over to straddle me. I watch as she unbuttons my shirt, and removes my belt. She moves down as she slowly removes my trousers.

The sight of her, in that corset, as she looks up at me while removing my boxers will forever remain emblazoned in my mind.

My cock springs free in her hand and I watch with delight as she holds it, slapping it against her mouth. God, that sweet, dirty, small mouth. I buck my hips, letting her know I want her to taste me now.

She looks up at me, my erect cock in her hand, and wraps her well-manicured finger around the base. Her nails are painted hot red, like our passion. The sight makes my cock throb.

She opens her mouth and darts her tongue out to lick me, small teasing flicks that make my hips buck again. Her eyes lock with mine, and I see an unspoken challenge in them. She wants me to lose control. And I don't mind. If anything, I revel in it.

She begins slowly, her mouth sliding down my length, her tongue swirling around my head as she sinks lower. The sensation is exquisite, and I reach down to run my fingers through her hair, feeling the silky strands against my palm.

Her lips wrap around me, enveloping me in warmth, and she begins to bob her head rhythmically.

My hands grip her hair, my knuckles turning white as I struggle to maintain control. I want to thrust into her mouth, to feel her throat close around me, but I force myself to keep still.

Camela looks up at me with eyes darkened by lust, her cheeks flushed and her hair wild. She takes me deeper, her mouth stretching around me, and I can feel her throat constrict as she swallows me whole. Her eyes never leave mine, and the want in them spurs me on.

I can't hold back any longer, my hips bucking uncontrollably, thrusting into her mouth. She takes me, greedily, her mouth moving in rhythm with my motions.

"Camela," I moan, my mind foggy with pleasure. "You're amazing... Keep going. I’m cumming…"

Her eyes flicker up to meet mine, dark and mischievous, and she continues her ministrations until I'm on the brink of release. But just when I think I can't take any more, she stops, leaving me achingly hard and desperate for more.

"Patience," she teases, a sultry smile playing on her lips.

“What are you doing?” I moan, in protest.

But then, I understand. She places one leg on either side of me, and settles down on her ankles. After she’s done straddling me, she takes my cock and places it at the edge of her still wet, soaking pussy.

“Camela,” I moan, and grab her hips. In one swift motion, I slam into her and her entire body flies towards the ceiling.

I pull out my cock, and buck my hips into her again. She throws back her head, and screams in ecstasy. The sound echoes in the room, our passion, our love, it all consumes us. I thrust in and out, faster, harder, deeper.

I can’t help but stare at her tits, those gorgeous tits as they bounce wildly with each thrust, threatening to spill out of that corset. I watch as her dark brown eyes flutter closed in pleasure, her face contorting in an expression of pure bliss.

And then, she takes control. In one swell swoop, she leans forward and grabs my hands off her hips, pinning them up on the bed behind my head.

I watch in amazement as she looks me in the eye, stares me down. She’s in control now. Camela's hips rise and fall in a hypnotic rhythm, her breaths coming in short gasps as she rides me. I watch the way her body moves, slow, fluid, like a dancer’s.

"Vincenzo," she moans, her voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down my spine.

"Camela, you feel incredible," I groan, unable to contain the intense pleasure coursing through me. I try to fight my hands free from her grip, to fuck her again, to pound her.

She keeps me down.

I grin, the anticipation itself bringing me to the brink.

"Vincenzo, I'm close," she whispers, her grip on my hands tightening as her pace quickens.

"Let go, Camela. I'm right here with you," I encourage, feeling my own climax building within me. I feel my cock throbbing for release, and her pussy feels tighter, as she clenches it shut around me.

I close my eyes, reveling in the pure bliss coursing through my veins, at the eruption that’s about to explode.

“Camela,” I moan, my chest jerking up, my hips bucking into her now, pounding her from below. As if on cue, she moans and releases my hands, reaching out to grab my thighs.

I feel her legs tremble, her breasts jerk and just then, I spill out into her convulsing pussy.

Our bodies tense in unison, our cries of ecstasy mingling in the air as we find release together.

The room smells like sex, my chest heaves, my heart pounds and I’ve never felt more alive. Camela gets off me, and lies beside me, her eyes still dark with desire.

I extend an arm and with labored breaths, she inches closer and collapses onto my chest. Our hearts beat rapidly in sync as we cling to one another, our sweat-slicked skin sticking together.

"Thank you," Camela murmurs into my chest, her voice soft and tender. "For everything."

"It’s I who should be thanking you, cara mia" I reply, stroking her hair gently as I hold her close. “You light my world up.”

I can feel her body slowly relaxing against me, the anxiety and tension of the day melting away. As our breathing gradually slows down, I can't help but think about how far we've come – from strangers to lovers, united by fate and circumstance.

"Vincenzo," she whispers just before drifting off to sleep, her voice filled with love and warmth.

"Sweet dreams, my love," I murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. And at last, sleep claims us both.