Chapter Forty-eight
Vida
I can still feel the weight of his kiss on my lips, accompanied by everything we said or screamed lingering on my skin as we walk into the house.
“Oh my goodness!” Mom pulls us inside, wrapping a large towel around us both. I can still feel the heat radiate from his body and I’m certain he can still feel mine.
“Where have you two been? Your mother was worried sick!” Dad asks, looking between the two of us.
“I apologize,” Ciro says, taking me by surprise. What is he sorry for? I’m the one to blame.
Well, he is the one who kissed me like an animal and made my short grave visit turn into a porno.
“Nonsense, I know Vida ran off somewhere,” Mom says, smacking my shoulder.
Great! My mother is on his side.
“I’m sure she did more than run off,” Carmela comments, stepping forward, and making both Ciro and I almost choke on our spit.
“Well . . .” she begins with her arms crossed. “Father has been calling, work stuff.”
“I’ll call him back,” Ciro replies curtly, water dripping off his soaked shirt. His voice sounds exhausted, almost detached, but his eyes . . . his eyes are still burning for me.
Get a grip woman!
“I’m going to my room to change,” I say, leaving the towel for just him now.
“I’ll join you soon, little chaos,” he says, smiling at me, and for a second I almost forget I’m in my parents house.
“Little what?” Mom asks with raised brow.
“Bye, Mom.” I hurry to the stairs, feeling Ciro’s eyes burn my back.
I let the hot water from the shower wash everything away; the dirt, the rain, the guilt I had buried deep down for far too long. By the time I step out and wrap myself in a towel, warm from head to toe, I feel lighter.
But . . . but not entirely free and I knew what I needed to do.
After putting on a nightgown, I get busy cleaning. Each photo that holds a memory of Adam feels like a stake of wood in my chest, so I decide to remove them.
I box them up.
It isn’t about forgetting him. God, no. I couldn’t even if I tried, but I can’t keep lying to myself anymore.
It’s time.
I’m in love with Ciro. The same man I thought I’d hate forever, who broke me into who I didn’t think I truly was and still found ways to show me how to put myself together. The same man who now owns me completely, in more ways than one.
With a smile and a reluctant goodbye, I seal the last box and let out a small sigh. I will always remember Adam Brown, but I will love Ciro for way longer.
“Hey you,” Ciro says, still dripping as he walks in.
His eyes sweep over me in that way that makes me feel utterly exposed, even though I’m still fully dressed.
“Hey you.” I smile. “How did the call go?”
“We leave tomorrow,” he says, leaning against the doorframe like he didn’t just rip my world apart and piece it back together. “There’s a meeting in Russia about the orphanage.”
“Okay.” I nod, remembering Carmela had talked about the annual visit they always have.
I don’t know what else to say to him, so I keep quiet. I busy myself with straightening the last few things, pretending not to notice the way his shirt clings to him.
“You should wash up,” I say softly, trying my best to not let my vagina think for me.
I am not a dog or a rabbit, I swear!
He doesn’t reply, but his gaze just lingers a little too long before he leaves for the bathroom.
When the door clicks shut and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
How can I still want him when I just had him? I’m dying to hear him moan my name, say dirty things to me, and praise me for doing good. He thinks he’s the addict, but look at me wanting more of him.
I’m a finished wife, who am I kidding? I strip out of my clothes and follow him.
The sound of the shower greets me first, followed by the sight of him. With his broad back facing me, I watch as water pours down to the tattoos inked into his skin. Every line, every curve, every mark, I knew them all now, even if I had never dared to admit it before.
He turns just as I close the door behind me, his eyes going wild and wide as they scan my body, just like the first time he saw me naked.
“What are you doing, piccola caos ?” His voice is low, teasing.
I don’t answer. I can’t. I just move toward him, drawn like a moth to a flame. And when I drop to my knees in front of him, his hand shoots out as if to stop me.
Like he could.
“Baby . . .”
I don’t let him finish. I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his cock, already hard, already ready. His sharp inhale echoes through the small space, and when I lean forward and take him into my mouth, his curse is low and broken. “Fuck.”
His head tips back against the tiles, and I feel the way his body tenses beneath my hands, the way he struggles to hold himself still. But Ciro isn’t a man who holds back for long. I knew in a few seconds, he would be fucking the air out of my lungs and I anticipate it.
I circle my tongue around the head of his cock, slowly teasing and savoring the salty taste of him as I slide him deeper. My hands grip his thighs with my nails digging into the firm muscle as his groans turn into an animalistic sound.
“Oh, baby,” he moans, his hand tangling in my damp hair. “That filthy mouth could make a grown man want to cry.”
His praises, God! I could live on them for months.
I smile around him, taking him deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat as his grip tightens.
And there it is! His switch flicks and he stops holding back!
His hips thrust forward in rough, uncontrollable pumps and I take it, loving the way he’s destroying my jaw.
“Look at you,” he mutters, his voice strained, and his Italian accent thicker now. “On your knees, my good little wife. Fucking perfect.”
I moan around him and he groans again, letting the sensation course through not just him, but me.
I look up at him through my wet lashes, his cock sliding out of my mouth with a pop. I lick him from his base to his tip in a slow and deliberate manner, listening and watching as his breath hitches and his jaw tightens. I swear, he looks at me like I’m both his salvation and his undoing.
“You want it deeper?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the rush of the shower, and I smile at him as spit trails down the side of my mouth to my breasts. “You want to see how far I can take you?”
“Fuck you, little chaos,” he groans, his hand tightening in my hair. “Stop teasing and take me.”
I smile wickedly before wrapping my lips around him again as I take him in deeper, sucking in my cheeks as I move faster. His hand guides me now, his hips moving in slow thrusts.
“Here I am,” he says as he thrusts deeper, hitting the back of my throat, “fucking my wife’s mouth in the bathroom she grew up using. Oh, baby, what have you done to me?”
I don’t think the realization makes him want to stop, rather I believe it fuels him to go harder into my mouth.
I moan around him, my hand sliding up to cup his balls causing his groan to turn into a primitive sound. He’s losing control, and I love it. I love how he rams into my mouth with no hesitation and no restraint.
“Take it,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “Take all of me, little chaos.”
I give him control, relaxing my throat and letting him fuck my mouth the way he wants; the way he needs. He’s everywhere; his taste, his scent, his rough grip on my hair. I can feel him everywhere.
“You’re killing me,” he mutters, his head falling forward, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Fucking killing me, baby.”
His pace quickens as he thrusts harder. He’s close, almost at the edge, and I want to see him fall apart completely.
“You love taking me, don’t you, baby?,” he asks in a growl. “Let me hear it, piccola caos . Let me hear how much you love when I fuck that slutty mouth.”
I pull back just enough to say the words, my lips brushing against the head of his cock before taking him back in, and sucking harder and faster.
“Fuck,” he hiss, his hand tightening in my hair as he thrusts in one last time, his release hot and heavy on my tongue. The salty warm sensation hits every inch of my mouth, and is a meal I’ve fallen in love with.
He shudders above me, his grip loosening as he lets out a ragged breath.
“You,” he says, his voice cracking and his eyes darkening.
I smile at him from underneath his gaze, swallowing his cum down my throat, drawing a proud smile from him.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he chuckles, helping me stand on my feet.
Fuck! My knees! I almost fall back to the ground, but his hands hold me steady, making me smile at him as I wipe the corner of my mouth.
“Good,” I say, my voice soft and teasing. “Because I’m the only one who gets to do that.”
I wake up with the absence of his arms around me, making me miss him before I even get out of bed. I groan as I stretch lazily, the morning light piercing through the curtains. I rub my eyes and sit up while scanning the room.
Ciro’s gone.
As I get up to pack my things, I notice my bags aren’t here. Did he pack for me? Or did Mom come in when I was still sleeping?
After a quick shower and some light makeup to keep my exhaustion from showing, I slip into something comfortable and make my way downstairs.
The sound of laughter greets me, making me smile. Just yesterday, they could barely hold on a conversation, let alone laugh so carefree and loudly.
The sight before me brings a smile to my face, my dad is sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Brown, Carmela and Lisa sit together talking and giggling like old friends while Luca, of all people, is laughing so hard he nearly spills his coffee.
“Morning,” I say, brushing stray hairs from my face.
“You’re finally up,” Lisa says, grinning at me.
“Looks like y’all are having fun without me,” I giggle, scanning the room, looking for my husband.
“Ciro threatened us if we dared wake you,” she shrugs, making everyone laugh.
“Where is he?” I finally ask.
Mrs. Brown motions toward the kitchen.
“He’s in there with your mom. They haven’t let anyone else step foot inside.”
“Ciro? In the kitchen?” I raise an eyebrow, and Lisa and Carmela giggle.
“Yup. Apron and all,” Carmela adds, barely able to hide her grin.
I bite back a laugh. This I have to see.
The smell of garlic, herbs, and something rich greets me as I step into the kitchen. I knew the smell of Mom’s magic soup anytime she was making it. But as I peer into the kitchen, my jaw nearly hits the floor.
There he is. The terrifying, untouchable Ciro Ballera, is standing in my mother’s kitchen, wearing a Mickey Mouse apron. His dark hair is slicked back as usual and his sleeves are rolled up as he chops vegetables with precision that can only come from someone who knows his way around the kitchen, but in this case, around knives.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying to hold in my laugh. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t look up, his focus entirely on the chopping board in front of him.
“Don’t bother him, he’s in a trance,” Mom says excitedly, definitely enjoying his company.
I walk towards him slowly, watching him pour the vegetables into the pot and stir before closing it and turning to me
“Morning, baby,” he says softly, kissing the bridge of my nose.
“I didn’t think you had chef tendencies,” I tease. “What are you making?”
“You said your mom’s soup makes you feel better anytime you’re sick.” He shrugs. “So now I can make it for you anytime you want.”
If I wasn’t already married to him right now, I would drag him to the church and beg Rev. Ben to wed us now!
“Thank you,” I mutter, smiling up at him.
“For you? Anything, little chaos,” he smiles, pulling me into his space and devouring my lips without any care in the world.
And as usual, when Ciro is involved, it’s so easy to forget where I am and my own name.
“Not in my kitchen, you two,” Mom scolds, smacking us with the towel as we tear away from each other.
“We’ll finish this on the plane,” he whispers in my ear, sending goosebumps down my spine.
“Don’t be a stranger, Vee,” Lisa says as she hugs me goodbye.
“Never,” I reply as she pulls back, her eyes shining with unshed tears. I try to smile, but my throat is tight. I’ll miss her, now even more than the last time I left.
Ciro is standing by the car, talking with my dad. It’s weird seeing them together, cozying up with my dad’s hand on his shoulder like they are old buddies. I know for sure that whatever tension existed between them before is now gone, replaced by something I can’t quite name.
Mrs. Brown comes to me next, pulling me into a hug. “Don’t wait too long to visit us again, Vida. This house feels alive when you’re here.”
I nod again as she smiles at me and cups my face, forcing a small smile of my own as I hold back tears. “I’ll try.”
“I’ll miss you, my angel,” Mom says as she hugs me.
“And you too, firecracker,” she teases as she gestures to Carmela, who grins widely and joins the hug.
“Be good girls, and don’t cause any trouble,” Mom adds, pointing to Carmela.
“Me? Trouble? We don’t mix, I’m an angel,” she replies sarcastically, making us laugh.
The soft hum of the plane settles in around us as Carmela finally dozes off on the other side of the plane. As the plane sways gently, I can feel myself drifting slowly in my own slumber. But then Ciro leans in and his lips brush my ear, his voice low in a seductive whisper that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Follow me,” he orders.
I don’t question it. I can’t. There is an undeniable pull that I can’t resist. Slowly, I stand and follow him through the quiet cabin, my heartbeat quickening as we move silently. The curtain between us and Carmela turns into a fragile barrier that only adds to the tension.
Once we are in the small private compartment, Ciro turns to face me, his eyes dark and filled with mischief. He reaches for the small tray of snacks, grabbing a watermelon ice cube from the small cooler.
“I’m not a big fan of the fruit,” he says, slowly licking the ice in his hand.
“Okay?” I arch my brow, watching his tongue touch the icy block.
“But I have a few ideas on how I’ll manage it,” he adds with a smirk.
The cold sensation hits my heated skin making me gasp with a mixture of pleasure and shock. But before I can fully process it, he leans in, his lips finding my neck as his hands begin roaming everywhere, working at my clothing as he goes.
The ring of his phone brings his teeth out of my skin and his hands away from my nipples, and I miss them almost immediately.
“Yes?” he says into the phone, sounding irritated.
“Can’t this wait?” He looks at me, picking up another cube from the tray as he listens to whoever it is on the other end.
“Fine, carry on,” he continues, trailing the cube from my belly and slowly heading up towards my breasts.
“Ciro,” I moan, arching my back at the sensation the ice cube on my skin creates.
“Shh. Be good while I take this call, yeah?” he orders.
I nod, breathless. The tension in my body is almost unbearable, the cold ice against my nipples pushing me to the edge of control. I force myself to remain still, my hands gripping the seat beside me, desperate to feel him.
His attention never once wavers as he speaks into the phone, his words sharp and confident while he negotiates with the person on the other end. Even as he speaks, he doesn’t stop, the ice cube in his hand moving slowly, teasingly, and sending electric jolts through me.
As it melts on my skin, he uses his free hand to shift my panties and insert a finger into my already dripping pussy.
“Hmmm,” I moan, trying my best to stay quiet.
He smiles at me, stretching again to grab another ice cube, and before I can process another thought, he inserts it into me.
“Fuck!” I curse under my breath, grabbing his wrist in a quick reflex move.
I want to scream, to let the sensations consume me, but I can’t. Not with Carmela just on the other side of the curtain and not with a stranger on the other end of Ciro’s call.
“Be still, piccola . Let me play while I pretend to care what they’re saying,” he whispers again “Unless you want them to hear you.”
He smirks, barely paying attention to the other end of the phone, making me bite my lip hard.
The pressure is almost unbearable as his movements grow more intense. He fingers me with not just his fingers but the icy watermelon cube that I can feel melt inside me, yet his focus never leaves the phone call.
He kneels between my legs, pushing my panties down and nods at whatever the person says. My breathing quickens, the tightness in my chest almost suffocating me as I anticipate his next move. Yet, it comes as a shock, an ever consuming surprise, when the warmth of his tongue meets the coldness of my now watermelon spiced pussy.
Still, I hold back, not daring to make a sound.
“I’ll circle back. Something just came up that needs my full attention,” he tells the person. He finally hangs up and turns to me with a devilish smirk.
The moment his eyes meet mine, I can’t hold on any longer.
“Paint my face with your cum, my little chaos,” he orders, and immediately he sucks and licks every ounce of my juices like a starving man eating his first meal.
Fuck! There is no way I will survive if I don’t let myself come.
“Ciro!” I moan, my breath caught in my throat as he pulls me closer, his tongue fucking me harder as if he knows I’m close.
In a heartbeat, the tension that had been building for what felt like forever finally snaps and I let myself tremble in his hold, his hands holding my legs steady as he keeps eating me, making sure nothing is left behind.
“Do you like watermelon now?” I giggle, my legs still shaky.
“They are my favorite, little chaos. The absolute best.” He smirks, wiping my cum off his cheeks and licking his fingers clean.