Chapter 35
CHANTEL
A soft knock on the bathroom door startles me, and when I hear Cristian’s voice on the other side, I turn into a jittery mess of nerves.
“You okay, gattina?”
“I’m good,” I squeak. “I’m just doing my hair. I’ll be out in a little while.”
There’s a pause before he replies. “I’ll be in my office.”
I let out a relieved breath as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I actually finished getting ready about ten minutes ago, but I’ll probably need another ten minutes at least to calm myself.
Just rip it off like a Band-Aid.
I touch up my lipstick to give my hands something to do, and then I give myself a once-over. I went all out on the hair and makeup just like I would if I was preparing for a show. I opted for vintage waves, winged eyeliner, and a cherry red lip.
The outfit is a little simpler, consisting of a black bustier, opera gloves, a thong, garter belt, and stockings. I know Abella said to prepare for a mauling afterward, but I really think getting railed within an inch of my life will help settle my nerves before I tell him.
When I finally feel like I’m ready, I step into my heels and steel myself with one last breath.
My heels echo down the corridor as I approach Cristian’s office. The door is open, and when I step into the frame, he glances up from his desk and drinks me in with a smoldering gaze.
Before he can say anything, I approach him, and he turns his chair to face me.
I step between his legs and brush my gloved fingers along his jaw as I stare down at the most handsome face I’ve ever seen.
“I knew you were a hot math nerd.” My lips quirk as I take in the black-framed glasses I didn’t know he had.
“Does that please you, Mrs. Vitale?” His voice dips as he reaches out and slides his palms up the back of my thighs.
A shiver rolls down my spine as pleasure sparks inside me. I never could have known when I started this game how much I’d come to enjoy it. But every time he refers to me as his wife, something in me melts.
His hands continue to wander, groping my ass while he eye-fucks me. I know he’s about to throw me on the desk and have his way if I don’t take control soon.
I lift my knee and press it between his legs, settling it on the edge of the chair. Using his tie for leverage, I pull him closer and clutch his jaw, my lips a breath from his.
“Don’t forget your manners, baby.”
Amusement flickers in his dark gaze, and I don’t doubt he’s recalling the first time he said that to me.
“I’m sorry, cara. Were you expecting a gentleman?”
“Do I ever?” I muse.
Working my fingers up his tie, I loosen the knot and pull it from his collar. After I toss that onto his desk, I move on to his shirt, slipping the buttons free and slowly peeling apart the fabric.
I let out a little hum of pleasure as I uncover the solid expanse of his upper body and that perfect landscape of olive skin.
Sinking to my knees on the floor, I lean over the hard length of his erection and kiss my way down his abdomen, leaving lipstick prints as I go.
A visible shudder runs through him, and when I look up at him, the fire in his eyes heats my blood.
I glide my hands up the length of his muscular calves and over his solid thighs, widening them as I dip my head closer.
He lets out a broken breath as I kiss a path along the heavy swell of his cock through the material of his trousers. When I reach his belt buckle, I hold his gaze while I unfasten his pants.
“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?” he rasps. “If you only knew how many times I thought about you doing this.”
Warmth kindles inside me as I picture him pleasuring himself with this in mind. And dear God, I would have loved to see that.
I tug down his briefs and wrap my gloved hand around his throbbing cock, stroking him languidly.
“Is it as pleasing as you imagined, Mr. Vitale?”
“La mia ladra, there isn’t a soul on this earth who could ever keep me from you.”
His words stitch together the broken parts of me that always feared I’d never be enough. And for once, I let myself believe him.
“I like that you’re a gentleman when it counts.” I lick the head of his cock. “And even better when you know not to be.”
“What does my gattina want?” He threads his fingers through my hair and wraps it around his fist.
“I want you to use my throat.”
A low sound of approval rumbles in his chest as his palm traces the curve of my face. “What my wife wants, my wife gets.”
Using his grip on my hair, he guides my mouth over his length until he hits the back of my throat.
I’m glad to find that pregnancy hasn’t changed my lack of a gag reflex. Because, tonight, I want nothing more than to pleasure this man until his restraint burns to ash.
He drags my head back and pushes it down, finding his rhythm as he praises me with roughly spoken words.
“That’s it, principessa. You take my cock like such a good fucking girl.”
I dig my fingers into his thighs as a desperate craving pulses inside me. I’m so turned on, I’m aching to make him come just so I can climb on top of him and do it all over again.
Tension draws his muscles tighter as he punctuates his masculine groans with a mixture of broken Italian and English. I don’t know what he’s saying, but listening to him unravel has me drunk with pleasure.
I moan around him in response, and a tremor courses through his body as he reaches the tipping point of agony.
His grip on my hair tightens, and he shudders out his release with a ragged breath.
I lift my gaze to his as his cum spills down my throat, and the feral possession in his eyes settles deep in my bones.
I keep sucking him as he pets my hair, and the moment suspends itself until he finally frees his cock from my mouth.
“Someone’s greedy.” His thumb scrapes over my lips. “Do you want more?”
I nod, and the dark hunger in his gaze sends a surge of need through my body.
“Come up here.”
I rise on wobbly legs, and he pulls me onto his lap.
“Did you miss me today, Mrs. Vitale?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “I’ve been severely neglected and underfucked.”
A lazy smile plays across his lips as he slides his palms up over my thighs. “Let me correct that then.”
His hand dips between my legs, pushing the fabric of my thong aside before he sinks two fingers inside me. A quiet hum stirs in my throat as he peels down the lace cup of my bustier and licks my nipple, drawing it into his mouth.
My thoughts blur as he works me over, bringing me to the edge in record time.
Everything is more sensitive since I’ve been pregnant, and my orgasms have been intense. But this one is brain-melting.
A current sweeps through my body and explodes out of me in a surge of warmth. It leaves me trembling with aftershocks far longer than any I’ve ever experienced before. And as I finally catch my breath and glance down, I realize I soaked Cristian’s pants.
When I meet his gaze, molten heat sparks in the depths of his eyes, and I know the not-so-gentlemanly side of him is here to stay for a while. He lifts me up, bends me over the desk, and spreads my legs apart.
Two seconds later, he has his cock buried inside me, fingers biting into my hips as he fucks me.
It isn’t long before another orgasm crashes through me, and he pushes me through the relentless waves of pleasure.
The slick, obscene sound of how wet I am ratchets up the tension in his body, and with one last deep thrust, he unloads inside me.
I’m completely wrecked, so strung out on bliss, all I can do is lie there while he sweeps his hands over me, massaging my back.
After my breathing finally returns to normal, I peek up at him from beneath heavy eyelids as he withdraws and watches his cum spill out of me. Then, in that dominant way he does, he pushes it back inside me with two of his fingers.
“I’ll never get tired of seeing that,” he rumbles.
I offer him a sleepy, sated smile while he looks at me like there’s never been a better view than this. As my gaze rakes over him, pants hanging off his hips, cock glistening from our cum, I can say it’s a mutual feeling.
“Did that satisfy your craving?” he murmurs.
“Yes.” I drag myself upright and pat him on the chest. “You were a very good boy.”
A dark laugh rolls through him as he leans down and nips at my lip. “There’s only room for one pet in this relationship, dea.”
Proving his point, he lifts me up and tosses me over his shoulder, carrying me down the hall to our bathroom.
He sets me on the counter, undressing me in the slow, methodical way he does, and I soak up every second of his attention.
Slipping off my heels, his fingers glide up over my stockings until he reaches my garter strap. He snaps it against my skin, and somehow, I just know it’s an urge he’s wanted to indulge for a while.
When I think about him sitting at Black Velvet, watching me from the audience after our time at Sanctum ended, it leaves a hollow feeling in my chest.
He said I wasn’t ready then, and he was right, but it doesn’t change how much I regret that.
It might not be the perfect time, or the perfect setting, but I want him to know that I want it now.
“Cristian.”
“Yes?” He meets my gaze.
“I’m pregnant.”
Warmth blooms in the depths of his eyes as his fingers feather over my jaw. “I know, baby. And you have no idea how fucking happy that makes me.”
It takes me a second to process what he just said. He’s so calm and collected, it’s obvious he’s had a while to think about this.
“How?” I ask.
“Because I pay attention.”
I should have expected he’d notice. This man doesn’t miss anything. But still, I need to know what his thoughts are.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“No.” His voice dips. “How many do you think we should have?”
A soft laugh escapes me as I smile up at him. I don’t know why I find that so charming, but there’s something to be said for a man who knows what he wants—and more importantly, that he wants it with me.
“Aren’t you even a little nervous?”
“Why would I be?” He raises a brow. “You wanted a baby. I gave you one.”
“Oh, is that how you recall this happening?” I muse.
“Vaguely.” He threads his fingers through my hair and tips my head back. “I remember you asking me to fuck you bare, and begging me to come inside you.”
“Yeah, that was definitely all me,” I answer dryly. “No encouragement from you whatsoever.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He teases the words against my lips.
“You are incorrigible,” I tell him.
“And you are the only person in the world I’d want to do this with,” he rasps.
I nearly melt into the counter, and naturally, my lip starts to get all wobbly. I want to tell him I feel the same, but I can’t even get the words out.
“I never want you to doubt what this is to me.” He caresses my face. “When you trust me, I understand how much of a gift that is, and I won’t take it for granted.”
“Okay, now I’m really going to cry,” I blubber.
He smiles and wipes the tears that leak from my eyes.
“I want to give you everything, Chantel, and I need it to be something you choose.”
I’m not sure what he means until he lets out a rough breath and slips his hand into his pocket. When he removes a velvet ring box, all the air in my lungs seems to dissipate.
“I don’t want you to answer right now.”
He slides it onto the counter beside me without opening it. Then he pauses for a beat to make sure I’m not going to faint—or worse, sprint out of here like I might have done just a few months ago.
“When you’re ready, there’s more I’d like to say,” he tells me. “But for now, I just want you to think about it. I won’t mention it again until you bring it up yourself.”
“Okay.” My throat works.
Some of the tension in his body dissolves, and part of me hates how hard he’s had to work to penetrate my armor.
It’s exhausting to live this way, and I’m pretty sure the amount of patience this man has had with me qualifies him for sainthood.
No matter how many times I tried to push him away or give him an out, he was always there—even when I didn’t know it.
When I look at him, I can’t deny that I’m in love with him.
Maddeningly, deeply, wholeheartedly in love.
I want this life with him more than I’ve ever wanted anything, and I could say yes right now. But I know it isn’t as easy as living on a hope and a prayer that everything will just work out somehow.
Love is rarely enough when it comes to Mafia politics.
There are so many complexities involved in this relationship, and it would be unrealistic to think otherwise.
What he chooses will affect his family. It will involve conversations with the Greeks, and the very real consequences that could come from that.
I’m not foolish enough to believe that Ares won’t try to leverage this to his benefit. It’s what men in his position have always done. But marrying Cristian without revealing all the facts would only make him resent me more than he probably already will.
I owe it to him to be honest about who I really am before I accept.
He’s giving me the right to choose, and it wouldn’t be fair to him if I didn’t do the same.
As much as his rejection might hurt, I would rather face that reality than one where I cling to something that can no longer exist. But I’m not quite ready to face that reality right now.
Just a little longer.
Then I’ll have no choice but to implode this happiness—and potentially ruin everything.