Chapter 22
22
A mara
"Hey," I say when Massimo joins me in the limo.
He talks to the driver, and the partition lifts. He sits beside me, as usual, with a concerned expression.
"Hi. Are you okay?"
"Yes." I make a note not to ask him what he talked about with Daphne, even if not knowing may kill me. But if I choose to trust him, I have to see it through.
"Daphne won't bother us anymore. I apologize for what happened."
My shoulders loosen. "No problem."
"Come here," he says, pulling me into his lap like a doll. Because of my dress, sitting on him is a bit awkward, and I grab all the fabric and bunch it around him. "I know it sounds messed up, but your brother's coma brought one positive thing—if he hadn't been in one, we wouldn't have married."
I stare at him, and my stomach sinks. Does he know anything? Is he testing me? "What a horrible thing to say, Massimo. I'd give anything for my brother to be healthy." I stiffen in his hold as he puts his arms around me.
He stares at me in silence, and the atmosphere shifts. I dislike most of my mother's opinions, but she was right about one thing—Alonzo's recovery will threaten the family business, the family itself, and my marriage. My newfound confidence goes on a coffee break.
"He's my brother. I love him. Why would you say that?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. If anything, I meant it as a compliment."
"A compliment?"
"Haven't you noticed? I'm obsessed with you." He strokes my cheek, dipping his hand to my breast and cupping it over my dress. I soften in his arms as he lifts the mountain of fabric bunched around me, sneaking his fingers under my dress. When he touches my bare pussy, he groans. "No underwear. You're obsessed with me, too, rat."
"What if I didn't wear any because I didn't want to get too hot?"
"You not wearing underwear is a sure way to get me hot."
He thrusts his fingers inside me, and I buck in his lap. Moaning, I fumble to get his cock out, tangling the dress between us in a frantic search for the zipper of his pants. I undo it with his help and push down his pants and briefs.
"Yes. Touch me," he demands, an achy vulnerability leaking into his voice. Like he needs me—which only makes my arousal skyrocket. "Touch me," he repeats, triggering a fiery need. To touch, caress, and show him how much he means to me.
I wrap my palm around his cock, enjoying how hard and warm it is. He growls as I stroke him. He retaliates by adding two more fingers inside me and curling them.
"Yes," I say raggedly, eyes already half-closed from the heights of Lustland.
He positions his cock at my entrance, and damn, the moment he thrusts inside, I yelp. I should be used to his size, his girth, this powerhouse of heat stretching my inner walls to the max. Yet every time, it feels even better or different than the previous one.
Massimo wraps his fingers around my throat. I part my lips, surprised to see his eyes trained on mine as he watches my reaction. Air is sucked from my lungs, and for a moment, I feel lightheaded. My heart drums in my ears.
"I'm never letting you go," he says, intensifying the rhythm, fucking me hard. I'm on top of him, but he's in control. "Tell me. Tell me you're never leaving me." He squeezes my neck a little tighter, and the choking does something to me—I chase my impending orgasm as I chase my next breath. He flicks my clit, and lust weakens my knees, creating a maddening buzz in my ears. "Tell me, rat."
I rock my hips, his cock buried deep inside me. He squeezes my throat again, and this time, the world stops. His fingers bite into my skin, hurting me. We share a dark energy like he's trying to kill his obsession with me—or maybe solidify it. When our eyes meet, I see the despair in his gaze. He needs to know, and I need to breathe.
"I'm never leaving you," I say, my voice wavering.
I gasp as he releases my neck, confused and turned on.
He squeezes my clit, and that does it. Pleasure rockets through me. I scream his name unashamedly as he rails me until he comes, jerking his body into mine and spilling every drop of his cum into me.