24. Fucking Jeans 2.0
Islept like shit.
That’s habitual for me, but I didn’t expect to wake up in a pool of my own sweat, the scent of burnt flesh in my nostrils and the wails of my mother in my ears. It felt so real. I knew it was all a dream, but couldn’t wake up until it was too late, until I lived through my worst nightmare all over again.
It’s been a while since the nightmares have been this bad, this vivid. I usually keep them at bay with pills, and more recently, by watching over my sweet goddess, illuminated by moonlight. But the stress of the last thirty-hours caught up to me, my own mind becoming my enemy.
DeRossi showed up extra early this morning, in an impeccable three-piece suit when he usually dresses casually around me, and flanked by a blonde model that looked ready to kill him with one look.
She introduced herself as Shelly Clarke and apparently, she’s also my solicitor now.
And a friend of my wife.
“You’re gonna be granted bail. I suppose you’ll have the means to pay. We’re expecting an amount between one and five million pounds.”
“That won’t be a problem,” I say confidently.
Her cold blue eyes land on me, and she watches me without speaking for a moment. I’m sure lesser men have cowered under that stare, but I match it.
“If you hurt her, you’ll wish you ended in prison for murder.”
She smiles then leaves, the threat hanging between us like a live-wire. I don’t miss the way DeRossi bites his lower lip and watches her ass as she goes.
I snap my fingers in front of his face. “What the fuck, Luca?”
“Don’t ‘Luca’ me, Capaldi,” he admonishes. He hates it when I remind him that I’ve known him since we were in diapers and that he isn’t the big shot lawyer he thinks he is in my eyes.
“Who is she?”
“One of your wife’s favours. And the biggest shark in all of England. I’ll see you out.”
“You fucked her?” I ask, just to fuck with him.
He turns a murderous gaze to me, and I know I’m not far from the truth. If it hasn’t happened, he wants to.
“Don’t fucking talk about her like that. Would you like me to say that about your wife?”
“Her name leaves your lips, you’re a dead man.”
“Consider the same for Miss Clarke, stronzo.”
I smile, and he mirrors me. It feels good not to talk about how I spent the last two nights in a damp cell that reeked of mould instead of in between my wife’s legs, or watching over her, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only pendulum I’ll ever need.
I clasp his hand. “Thank you, Luca.”
“Just doing my job.”
“You know that’s not true.”
He rolls his eyes, tired of my antics as always, and walks out. An officer brings me back to my cell where I only have to wait for half an hour. I count every minute.
When I come out, I pay for my bail and the custody officer gives me back my possessions. I clasp the gold chain of my medallion around my neck, the engraving reminding me of my motto. Il sangue non è acqua. Blood is thicker than water. Both a promise to my family, to my blood and a threat to my enemies.
I put on my wedding band as I turn around, a prickle of awareness drawing my gaze behind me.
She stands at my back, the light from outside creating a halo around her. She illuminates the sad white corridor where the paint flakes and the linoleum yellows.
My angel of doom, coming to save me.
I take her in, from the high black heels she wears, the ripped jeans that I’ve never seen before that hug her thick thighs and the little grey oversized shirt with a cat in the left breast pocket. My lips tip up and I walk to her, making sure she measures my every step.
Her pupils widen at my proximity. I delicately place a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Been sneaking into my office closet, have you, guerrieritta?”
She smiles wickedly. “What’s yours is mine.”
It might sound like simple words to the untrained ear, but I hear it for what it is.
A confession.
A ceasefire.
Acceptance.
The organ in my chest expands, and I feel funny in my stomach. I know I haven’t eaten well for the past thirty-six hours, but I hope I’m not getting food poisoning because I need to be with my woman right now.
“Let’s go home,” I all but grunt before I take her hand in mine, her own wedding band searing my flesh, and guide her outside.
Fuck. It’s about time I seal this marriage with the ring that will make her mine forever.
Forever.
What an odd thing to think. I always thought I’d die by the time I was forty but right now, all I want is to live forever, with her at my side.
Marco stands beside my car as Giulia and I climb in the back.
“Put some music on, Marco. Loud. You look in your rearview mirror once, I’ll take out your eyeballs out with the car key, you feel me?”
He doesn’t blink or flinch. “Yes, sir.”
“Andrea, what the…”
Giulia doesn’t finish her sentence. My lips land on hers in a brutal kiss, and I pull her body into mine to straddle me. My hands land on her face, her hair, her neck before they descend on her breasts then her hips, her ass. Everywhere I can feel, everywhere I can hold, before I come back up to pinch a nipple.
“No bra? You’ve finally decided to kill me, sweetheart?”
I pinch harder and she moans in my mouth, loud and wild, just how I like her. She doesn’t give a shit that someone’s here with us, she’s focused on me.
Fuck.
Two nights without my oxygen was too much. I need to feel her body pressed against mine, to rid her of her clothes, to touch her soft skin, to hear the sounds she makes when I make her come. I need her to look into my eyes as she does, to know I’m the vehicle for her pleasure.
She writhes and grinds against me and I swear I can feel the heat of her pussy on my cock despite the two layers of jeans between us.
Fucking jeans.
Our tongues tangle in a dance without rhythm, but our hearts beat in sync.
“Andrea.”
My name comes as a whisper in between our mouths and she throws her head back, asking me without words to devour her whole.
I suckle at her neck, bite at her collarbone then my head drops to take a peaked nipple into my mouth. Goosebumps erupt across her skin and I continue my languid kiss with Giulia’s body, circling again and again with my tongue and my hand on the other.
Her grasp on my hair is strong. She pulls at my roots, but I don’t let up. I’m the one in control of her body now and I’ll work it the way I want.
She whines my name again, and nothing has ever sounded so sweet.
The music gets louder in the car and I smile, knowing I’m the one wringing pleasure out of her perfect body.
Giulia hasn’t stopped to grind on me and grows wanton, turning me feral for her orgasm. I need it more than I need freedom.
The abandon in the rolls of her hips feels like the final permission to come out and play, to take what she offers and finally be hers.
My head spins with the headiness of knowing we’re on the cusp of something bigger than us. I wouldn’t want to take that step with anyone but her. She’s all I see and all I want. I don’t care about the curse that follows me. She’s a fucking God, she’ll lift it. She already has.
I kiss her again, one hand at her throat, feeling her erratic heartbeat against my palm, one hand at the hip, helping her roll faster against my hardened length.
“You’re gonna make yourself come, sweetheart. You understand?”
She’s mindless with pleasure, but she manages a nod before crashing her lips to mine again and dipping her tongue into my mouth, tasting me as much as I’m tasting her.
“Come on, ride me like you’re meant for it.”
“Andrea,” she whines.
I tentatively squeeze her throat. I spanked her ass raw, and she came beautifully, but what we do next will determine the future of our relationship and no way I’m gonna do something she doesn’t want.
Her eyes open and land on me, dark and full of unbridled lust. The green is barely visible anymore. Her tongue peaks out to lick her lower lip and I squeeze a little harder on the sides, cutting her air, getting her dizzy.
“Eyes on your husband when he makes you come, sweetheart.”
She bites her lips to fight the urge to roll her eyes, and I let go, her orgasm flooding through her veins instantly as she gasps for air.
My cock throbs at the sight of her. I watch her face flush, her heartbeat pounding at her neck, her hands clutching my shirt.
When she comes down, I kiss her again like it’s the only thing I’ll ever need, because it is. I didn’t even notice the car had stopped and Marco was nowhere to be found.
Smart man.
“You did so well, tesoro mio, so pretty for your husband.”
She preens, her chest almost rumbling with a purr.
“Mmmh, you like it when I remind you who you belong to.”
She licks my neck, making me shiver, then the sexiest words ever spoken come into existence, spoken with the voice of this angelic demon I have as a wife. “Yes. Now, remind me again with your cock.”
The last word is what kills me. “Please.”