Chapter 15
15
A mara
I light the candles I bought at an overpriced home décor store. The scent of Himalayan salt and rosewater fills the air, and I sniff. Massimo texted me saying he'd be later than usual but didn't add any other information.
I won't ask him about Ugo the first moment I see him. I'll wait until he says something.
My mother texted a few other times, and I ignored them. I can't talk about it any longer with her. She shows no real worry about losing an employee who worked for her for many years, despite him being a shitty human being. I always assumed she liked Ugo.
But my mom is better at compartmentalizing emotions than I could ever be.
I went out with Anthony by my side and bought a new lingerie. I've never bought anything sexy like this before. And having Anthony a few feet from me as I roamed the shop wasn't the best, but I couldn’t help the relief, knowing that a crap human being like Ugo was no longer alive.
He never gave James a chance.
And wherever James is, I bet he's happy that Ugo paid for what he did.
I bite my lower lip. I don't know if James would be happy to know I bought the sluttiest lingerie for my new husband, but he was so generous when he was alive that I prefer to believe he'd have wanted me to move on.
Besides… what I shared with James was beautiful and pure. With Massimo, it's different. It's intense, dark, and unreasonable. Because it's so different from what I shared with James, I can explore this connection with Massimo without having to choose.
I'm wearing a white robe to cover the black corset underneath. It hugs my curves, and my tits are about to pop out due to the very low cut. I pair it with lacy underwear and stockings.
What an irony to wear the white fluffy robe to conceal the sexiness underneath. I've never felt this sexy before, even with James. I felt pretty with him, cherished, and hopeful. But Massimo has access to a part of me I never knew existed. It's fiery, latent, and daring.
I was worried about him seeing me naked, and the last time we had sex, he somewhat did. Now, I want him to see all of me. I'm no longer worried about not being perfect, about not being thin enough for a man like him.
These worries pale compared to what I'd miss out on if I didn't explore this… different side of me. Because these moments are all we have. With my family's expectations about this marriage, my brother's possible return, and my insecurities about Massimo possibly straying on me… with all that lurking in the background, we have a slight chance at a lasting marriage. I don't want to be done yet.
I want to be with him—in the only way I can.
I put together a charcuterie board and some other hot appetizers. We can chat and then fuck. Drink something. Whatever he wants to do.
Excitement sinks into me, hitting all the way to the core. Here I am, horny as fuck because a man killed another for me. Well, I'm assuming.
I never thought I'd be the kind of person who would admire something like that. I never hurt a fly, and for two years, I tried to be a vegetarian mainly because of the animal cause. So, I'm not a monster.
Massimo finally enters through the garage, which means he drove himself. Guards are outside, and I take care to draw all the curtains. Dim the lights. Play low-key 90s R&B music in the background.
"Hey," he says, walking in. His face gives nothing away as he strolls through while scanning the room. "Are we expecting anyone?"
"I put the charcuterie together. Colleen had an appointment. She had to leave early."
"Okay." He removes his jacket and puts it aside.
The double-breasted vest clings to his body, along with the crisp shirt underneath. With each step, I see the elegant movement of his muscles through the fabric. Damn. I lick my lips.
"Sit down. What would you like to drink?" I ask with the readiness of a 1950s submissive housewife.
"Scotch."
I go to the wet bar, grab a bottle I've seen him drink from before, and pour some into the tumbler sitting on the round gold tray.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" he asks, sprawling on the couch and pointing at the tumbler in my hand. I've done a generous pour, but I'm not a scotch drinker and never know when to stop.
"Why? If I am? Would you tell me all your secrets?" I give him the tumbler and sit next to him.
He takes a sip. "You couldn't handle all my secrets."
He's probably right. I flush. "How about some of them?"
"Is there anything you want to ask me?" he asks, leaning over to grab a piece of French cubed cheese and popping it in his mouth.
"How was your day?" A pang of nervousness slips into my voice.
"It was a good day," he says, taking another sip of his drink.
I sigh. He's making me work for it. He can sense I want to know what happened. "Good."
He puts a thin slice of prosciutto into his mouth. "Good." He looks at me and traces the outline of my robe with his finger. "What are you wearing underneath?"
I shiver. Wouldn't you like to know? I can't give in as much as my body wants to. A hot stir swirls behind my breasts, my pulse skittering. His nearness is enough to mess up my hormones. "I went shopping."
He gives me a charming smile, but the glint in his eyes tells me he knows I'm playing a game. "So I hear."
"You hear it, but do you see it?"
"Not yet." He puts his drink on the table and motions to pull me closer, but I outsmart him and scoot back, lifting my hand in rebuttal. "Show me," he demands, a trace of impatience in his tone. "I want to see."
His gaze follows the black fabric peeking from the robe. I slowly loosen the robe, showing him a bit more. "Nice."
When my eyes meet his, his stare is hungry. Tingles spread through me and arrow down, landing right between my thighs. "Tell me about your day… and the robe goes," I say in my best vixen voice. A talent I didn't know I had until now.
He laughs, the cocky sound echoing through the living area. "The robe will go the second I want it to. I know you're already soaking wet for me. But I have a better deal."
I shake my head, wishing he was wrong. Be strong, Amara. Be strong.
"I'll exchange any questions you want to ask me about my day… and I'll answer them in detail," he says, closing the distance until I feel his breath on my skin.
I'm so aroused that my head bobs forward and touches his face. "Yes?"
He kisses my cheek, and red-hot lust travels through my blood. Fuck. "I'll do all that… for your ass."
I square my shoulders and withdraw, adding a sliver of space between us. My heart lurches. "My ass?"
He catches a strand of my hair and curls it around his index finger. "Your round, epic, peachy ass. With my cock in it. Tonight."
I part my lips, close them, and consider his shameless offer. He wants anal so bad that he's willing to admit to murder. The idea sends a boost to my female pride. Then I remember it's not exactly like he hid killing Ugo from my family since he did it at their house in daylight. When he thrust his finger into my asshole, I didn't mind it. At first, it was new… but then I got used to it. Is it going to be the same with his cock?
"I've never done that before."
He catches a fistful of my hair and tugs. My breath catches in my throat. My scalp tingles. Deep down, we both want the same thing tonight.
"That only makes me want to do it more, rat. Think of your ass as a pièce de resistance. "
If he continues talking in his deep, sexy voice, there won't be much resistance left. "Doesn't it, hm, hurt?"
"I hear it's uncomfortable initially, but I promise I'll make it all better."
"I bet. I couldn't learn from a better teacher, right?" I roll my eyes.
"Jealous?"
I look away. With James, I never worried about other women. I should have, as he was such a wonderful man. Flawless character, and he would have been a great husband and father. But Massimo is different. He's all trouble. I worry—a lot. "No. I guess whatever we do in bed, I have to come to terms with the fact that you've already done it with half the country," I say, hating how disappointed I sound. Why does it matter? It shouldn't.
"Who cares? Now I want to use my expertise on you… just you," he says in a deep baritone that sends shivers down my spine. Oh God, how I wish that were true. "I never had anal sex without a condom. It'll be a first for me, too."
"Oh." I bite the inside of my cheek.
"A first I'd give nearly anything to experience," he says and puts my hand on his cock. "As you can tell."
I squeeze his cock over his pants. He groans. Our eyes meet, and the hungry stare sends melted heat to my knees. Awareness flows in my veins, my nipples as hard as diamond tips. And yes, he's right about me being soaking wet. Slick heat sifts through the flimsy fabric and sticks to my thighs.
"Do we have a deal?"
"Yes."
He fishes his phone from his pocket, looks at the screen, slides a few pages, clicks a couple of times, and puts it on the coffee table. What's he doing? "I ordered a couple of things to help us with our deal. They’ll be here in less than twenty minutes."
I blink. He must mean a tube of lube or something of the sort. I may not have had backdoor sex before, but I know you need stuff. The idea of him pounding me from behind, stretching my hole, fills me with a mix of anticipation and a twinge of apprehension.
"You have that amount of time to ask me what you want to know," he says.
I realize I still have my hand on his cock. I disengage and scoot to the edge of the sofa so I can gather my thoughts. My palm is hot from the contact. Get it together, Amara. "My mom called me. She said you stopped by and killed Ugo. Is that true?"
"Yes," he says, looking me square in the eye.
A cold sensation spills into my stomach. Even though I already knew it, hearing him confess reminds me of what kind of man he is and what kind of woman I'm becoming. "Why did you do it?"
"You're letting me pop your ass cherry in exchange for these questions?" He shrugs. "I did it because he messed with what's mine. He hurt you, and I don't care how long ago was it. He deserved to die."
I clear my throat. My heart slams against my ribcage, the excitement from hearing Massimo's validation running through my veins. "He did."
"The world is a better place without him in it."
I can't argue with him. Ugo had no family, and if he had any friends, they weren't good people. I chew on my bottom lip. "How did you kill him?"
"Finally, an interesting question." He picks up a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. "I went alone. I could have had Tom or any of my men accompany me, but I wanted to be one hundred percent responsible for his death."
A dark type of excitement expands in my chest. My nipples harden, the area behind my breasts stirring. Who knew revenge was such a delicious aphrodisiac? Maybe it's the idea that Massimo did it for me—that he had my back. If he continues to talk, he'll literally have it. "Tell me more."
"I could tell in his eyes he wanted to leave. He knew he couldn't kill me. The repercussions of my dying meant he'd die instantly. A slow death. But he desperately wanted to neutralize me and leave. Run."
The image of a desperate Ugo, knowing there was no escape, sends a wave of relief through me. I appreciate him having some time to realize what caused his death before he met it. For so many nights, I had to sleep with the image of his face haunting my nightmares, only to wake up and find my aggressor still working for my parents, coming and going in my house as he pleased. "But he didn't."
"No. He launched at me. I swiped him with a knife. We rolled on the floor. He punched me, which was unfortunate, so I stuck the knife inside him and twisted, and he started bleeding out."
"And that was it?"
He shakes his head. "I cut off his thumb."
Unhinged. Enjoyment and fear blend inside me. I make a note to never get on my husband's bad side. The threat of him finding out about my brother lingers, but I push my worries away. I suffered because of Ugo. He killed James. "Did you stuff it in his mouth?"
"No. I almost did. Then I thought you should see it for yourself." He stands and moves around the couch to the console table by the entrance, where we usually leave car keys. He takes out a small Ziploc bag and hands it to me.
My eyes widen. It's a severed thumb with dried blood sticking to it. I can tell it happened several hours ago because the digit is stiff, the color ashy. Lifeless. "Wow."
I look at him, and he stares at me, watching me study the Ziploc bag.
"This is insane," I say, then place it on the coffee table. "You killed someone for me. I don't know how to thank you." Words I never thought I'd say to a person.
"Oh, we'll figure it out," he says. "Take off your robe."
I surge to my feet for better effect and stand before him. I undo the tie in the middle and let it slowly fall down my arms until it pools at my feet. He looks at me, fascinated.
He takes a step back, and I inhale. The corset is flattering, but it's hard to breathe. When I exhale, my heart beats so fast it's like the outfit has shrunk two sizes in the last few seconds. He touches me, outlining the shape of the corset, his fingers perusing each curve.
His breathing is hard, too. Good.
He bends me over the couch and parts my legs with his. He embraces me from behind, a crazy hot sexual energy binding us close. "Fuck, rat. You're the goddamn sexiest woman I've ever seen."
I don't know if I believe his words, but a part of me wants to. No one has ever looked at me the way he is now. He lowers his hand, sneaking it into the underwear and into my pussy. We both moan. I'm so wet that as he fingers me, we can hear the squishy sound from my cream, my skin, welcoming him.
"Fuck," he says under his breath.
"Massimo, I'm so wet," I say, half-awkwardly for being so soaked.
"That's how I like you," he says, placing his hand on my back and coaxing me to drape over the couch. He curls his hands around both ends of my undies and pulls, ripping and tossing them aside. My ass is fully exposed, but I assume he'll stick to his word and wait for whatever he ordered online.
Massimo kneels behind me and parts my thighs. I'm so aroused, I feel drunk. Lightheaded. Weak. I moan, the sound long-winded and unashamed.
He bites my ass cheek, and a hot zing spreads through my butt. Growling, he moves to the other cheek and nips it, sending sparks through the rest of me. I rock my ass in his mouth, begging for more, restless, fidgety. Then, he does it.
He splits my cheeks and slides his tongue between my crack. I sink my teeth into my lower lip, and he sneaks his hand around my legs to thrust three fingers into my sex.
I yelp.
He doesn't waste time talking. He gets down to business, fucking my pussy with his digits while sliding his tongue all the way to my asshole. At first, I feel silly. Is he really doing it?
He nips the area above my thighs and tongue fucks my asshole relentlessly while aggressively claiming my pussy. I'm so close. My lungs constrict, and every muscle is strung so tight that my core contracts in the most uncomfortable way.
Massimo squeezes my clit, and that does it. The pressure gives way to a violent orgasm that rides me like a tornado. Every fiber of my being is attuned to the pleasure sweeping through me.
I'm his, and there's nothing I can do about it.