Francesca
We made it to my bedroom, clothes dropping along the way, and then I was on my back on the sheets and his enormous mass was on top of me.
Heavy and muscled and tattooed and sexy as hell.
He’d kissed me harder when he carried me up the stairs, but now he held his face above mine and stared at me, his eyes possessive in just their stare.
My thighs parted for him, and his arm automatically hooked behind one of my knees, tilting my hips back as he pinned me against the mattress. My hands felt the heat of his skin when they planted on his chest, feeling slabs of concrete that had been in the summer sun all day.
He guided himself into me and started to sink, releasing a quiet, satisfied moan when he felt me intimately.
“Fuck, I missed my baby.” He pushed his big dick inside me, sealed with slick tightness, burying himself deep and making himself right at home.
He started regular and even thrusts, eyes focused on mine like he wanted the emotional connection more than the physical one.
He worked his jaw, clenched, and then released through the pleasure, the cords in his neck popping with his movements. He dipped his head and kissed me, our breaths immediately going thready because everything was so good. We fit together so well in every way. “I missed you.”
I grabbed on to his muscular arms. “I always miss you.”
“Yeah?” He started to thrust harder, like that turned him on.
“Yes…”
He started to give me all his length, hitting me right in the cervix because he was my man with a big dick and he could do whatever he wanted.
It fucking hurt, but I loved that it hurt. I loved that he knew what a woman’s cervix felt like because he could reach it without trying. His dick turned me on even though it was almost too big.
But even through the discomfort, I was about to come. I felt my entire body prepare, felt the tears in my ducts, felt everything clench tight in advance of the flood of pleasure that would override the pain. “Wolfe…”
He fisted my hair, and he held his weight on a single arm, strong enough to fuck me into a climax and support his body at the same time. “Cry for me.”
It hit me harder than it normally did, maybe because it’d been days since we were last together. I clenched my eyes shut, and the tears squeezed out like raindrops, dripping down my cheeks.
“Fuck, baby.” He kissed my tears away as I came, moaning right in his face, directly into his ear.
I rode my high and contracted around him, reaching the stars in the heavens and feeling the clouds against my face before I came back down, the flames of pleasure burning between my legs before they turned to simmering coals.
He gave his final pumps inside me, grunting and moaning as he enjoyed the final moments before the crescendo. Then he released the most masculine moan I’d ever heard, claiming me as he dumped his seed inside me.
He pulled out of me then lay beside me, immediately relaxing into the sheets now that he was finished.
His skin was shiny from the sweat, and he lay still as he waited for his body to cool off after doing all the work.
He’d carried me upstairs then fucked me good while I’d done nothing but lie there.
I wanted to cuddle into his side, but I gave him space for a while, knowing he ran about fifty degrees warmer than I did, probably from all the muscle he carried on his frame.
He suddenly left the bed altogether and stepped into my bathroom. A moment later, the shower came on. I didn’t see any steam come out of the open door or observe the mirror fogging up, so he probably took a cold shower.
I left the bed and turned up the air so he would be comfortable.
When he returned to bed, his hair was slightly damp, and a couple drops were still on his shoulders.
“Are you hungry?”
“Depends,” he said. “You got leftovers?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d love some.” He grabbed his boxers from the floor and put them on.
“You should leave some of your things here.”
“Yeah?” he asked with a smirk.
“Yeah.”
“I’d prefer it if you moved in with me, but I guess this’ll do.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not, but knowing him, it probably wasn’t. I headed downstairs, pulled out the casserole dish, and reheated the food in the microwave.
He came downstairs a minute later, shirtless and glorious.
“I was going to bring this to you in bed.”
“No.” He sat at the dining table again. “I’m not eating in your bed.”
“I don’t care. I do it all the time.”
“Beds are for fucking and sleeping.”
“And snacking.”
He smirked. “I don’t consider myself a stubborn man—but not gonna happen.”
I took the hot food out of the microwave and brought it to him at the table.
He immediately grabbed his fork and dug into the pasta.
I sat across from him. “How do you stay in such great shape, eating pasta and stuff all the time?”
“Because I need like four thousand calories a day,” he said. “I lift every day.”
“How do you find the time?”
“I make time because I have to. You won’t always have a gun or a knife in your possession. Your size might be all you have against an opponent, so you’d better be the stronger one.” He sat with his elbows on the table, eating like a hungry bear that had just come out of hibernation.
“You do a lot of hand-to-hand combat?”
“Some,” he said between bites. “Not a lot.”
“Leo said you killed Luigi and the others with your knife.”
“I don’t hide behind a gun if I don’t have to.”
My eyes became glued to his face, hanging on his words.
“It’s cheap, in my opinion. Shooting someone from a distance and relying on a scope to hit your mark… I prefer to fight like a man. Just two men with beating hearts and their knives tearing each other apart. It’s primal…intimate…animalistic.”
“You sound like a samurai with a sword.”
“Same idea,” he said as he continued to eat, staring at me across the table. “Know how to use a knife?”
“Probably not in the way you do.”
“Would you like me to teach you?”
“I know how to load and fire a gun.”
“Not what I asked you.” His plate was nearly clean at this point because every one of his bites was the equivalent to three of mine.
“You think I need to learn?”
“I’d prefer it if my woman was prepared for anything.”
“Alright.”
He gave a slight nod.
“Maybe we’ve just been lucky, but life has been pretty quiet for us.”
He finished his food then studied me for a while, his eyes taking in my features as if it was the first time he’d seen me in a long time. “I think those days might be over.”
We lay in bed together, my thigh hooked over his hip with his hands on my ass. He was a big man who took up most of the bed, and his muscled mass heated the sheets like there was a roaring fire underneath us. His fingers kneaded my ass as he looked at me, the two of us sharing a single pillow.
“Why were you only fifteen minutes away when I texted?”
“I was at the house.”
“What house?”
“The one I bought.”
My eyebrows rose. “The one we looked at like four days ago?”
“Yeah. I waived all the contingencies, wired the money, and finished the deal quickly.”
“Why did you move in such a rush? Was there another buyer?”
“No. I’m just tired of commuting.”
He’d stayed at my place so often, it hadn’t seemed like he’d commuted that frequently. “Did you sell your old place?”
“No, I love it. I’d never sell that place.”
“In Palermo?”
“Yes. You ever been?”
“A couple times.”
“I’d still like to show it to you,” he said. “Have you stay for a weekend.”
“Yeah, that would be nice,” I said. “So, that means you’ve moved in?”
“Some of my clothes. Purchased new stuff for everything else. I’m looking for a house manager or a butler. It’s hard to find the right person for a job like that.”
“What about the one you have in Palermo?”
He shook his head. “Her family is in Palermo, so she’s not interested in leaving. I get it.”
“If you aren’t there anymore, are you going to let her go?”
“No. The house will fall into disarray without someone there. She still cleans and maintains it. And if I ever make an impromptu visit, it’ll be ready for my arrival.”
I knew the price of the place he’d bought, slightly north of twenty million euro, and he’d bought it in cash without breaking a sweat. I wasn’t sure what my father paid his men, but I knew it wasn’t that kind of money. “Sounds like you did well with Cosa Nostra.”
“Yeah. And I worked for them for a long time.”
“I gotta imagine my father’s work is a major pay cut.”
He smirked. “A bit. But I’m not in it for the money.”
“But you could get killed.”
“It’s what gets me up every morning. Well, that used to be the case…before you.”
“Getting killed is what gets you up?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie. If I’m not on the cusp of death, I get anxiety.”
I stared at him blankly, unsure what to make of that.
His grin widened. “Told you I’m crazy.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“Yeah, I’m fucked in the head.”
“Why do you think you are that way?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Could be genetics, could be growing up in Cosa Nostra, or maybe a combination of the two. I’ve seen men get their heads blown off when I was as young as two. Still remember it.”
A sadness rippled through me and touched every nerve. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” he asked. “You can’t love yourself and hate the things that made you who you are. I’m fine with it.”
“But you were a child.”
He shrugged. “Briefly. By the time I was nine, I already felt like a man.”
“That’s not normal.”
“I’m definitely not normal—and I like that.” He continued to look at me with a playfulness in his eyes. “Don’t feel bad for me. I don’t.”
I’d already fallen pretty hard for this beautiful man, and the idea of anyone ever treating him with less than he deserved just killed me. “Well, it’s hard not to.”
“The past is the past,” he said. “If you live every day in the present, it can never haunt you. I know people have ghosts that haunt their homes and the graveyards in their minds, but I don’t.”
“What about your mother?”
“I tortured and killed the man who took her life,” he said simply.
“It won’t bring her back, but I avenged her respect and dignity.
And that’s enough for me.” He slid his hand along my face and cupped my cheek.
“You’re my life now, Francesca. My present and my future.
” His thumb swiped the corner of my mouth. “I live and fight for you now.”