Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The meeting with Enzo drags on longer than expected. Security protocols for Chicago, contingency plans, risk assessments.
By the time I make it back to my room, my shoulders ache with tension. I loosen my tie as I push the door open, then freeze.
Zoe lies sprawled across my bed, belly down with a book propped on her elbows. Her ass is raised slightly, her long legs bent at the knees, bare feet crossed in the air. She's wearing nothing but one of my dress shirts, the fabric riding up to reveal a glimpse of black lace underneath.
My cock hardens instantly.
"Make yourself comfortable, why don't you?" I say, my voice rougher than intended.
She glances over her shoulder, those green eyes flickering with mischief. "I took your invitation to heart." She turns a page, pretending to return to her reading. "Your bed's more comfortable than mine."
I close the door behind me, eyes never leaving her form. The sight of her in my shirt, is sexy as hell.
Mine.
"What are you reading?" I ask, shrugging off my jacket and draping it over a chair.
"The Art of War." She smirks. "Still studying my enemy."
I approach slowly, like a predator stalking prey. "And what have you learned about your enemy today?"
Her gaze travels over me, lingering where my erection strains against my pants. "That he might have vulnerabilities I can exploit."
"Is that so?" I reach the edge of the bed, standing over her.
She moves but I stop her.
"Stay exactly as you are," I command, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
I climb onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. Zoe tenses slightly but doesn't move, her breath catching as I position myself above her.
My fingers trace the curve of her spine through the thin fabric of my shirt. She shivers beneath my touch, goosebumps rising on her skin.
"I like seeing you in my clothes." I lower my mouth to her ear, my breath hot against her neck. "But I think I'll like you better out of them."
Slowly, I begin unbuttoning the shirt from the bottom, revealing inch by inch of her smooth skin. When I reach the middle of her back, I push the fabric aside, exposing the delicate lace of her panties and the curve of her waist.
"Lift up," I murmur, and she complies, raising herself slightly so I can continue removing the shirt.
I run my palm over the curve of her ass, feeling her tremble under my touch.
"Higher," I growl.
Zoe arches her back, lifting her hips toward me in a gesture so erotic it nearly breaks my control. Her face turns to the side, pressed against the pillow, her eyes half-lidded and burning with the same desire I feel coursing through my veins.
My fingers hook into the waistband of her panties, slowly dragging them down over the curve of her ass. The material catches slightly between her thighs, and I pull it free with deliberate gentleness that contradicts the violence of my want.
"Perfect," I whisper, taking in the sight of her—my stubborn, defiant wife—laid bare before me.
I lean back to admire the view—her perfect ass displayed for me, her face half-buried in my pillow. My hand glides over the curve of her hip, feeling her skin quiver beneath my touch.
"Spread your legs," I command, my voice thick with desire.
She hesitates for just a heartbeat before complying, widening her stance. The scent of her arousal hits me.
"Good girl," I say, lowering myself between her thighs.
I place my hands on either side of her ass, spreading her cheeks slightly as I drag my tongue along her center in one long, deliberate stroke. The taste of her explodes across my tongue—sweet and tangy.
"Fuck," Zoe gasps, her hips bucking against my mouth.
I grip her hips tighter, holding her in place as I continue my assault. My tongue circles her entrance before dipping inside, savoring the wetness I find there. Her moans grow louder, more desperate as I alternate between fucking her with my tongue and teasing her sensitive flesh.
"Damiano," she whimpers, pressing herself harder against my face.
I move higher, my tongue tracing the tight ring of her ass before returning to her dripping core. The forbidden nature of the act makes her entire body shudder violently.
"Oh my god," she cries out, fingers clutching the sheets.
Her reaction fuels my desire. I focus my attention on her clit, sucking the sensitive bud between my lips while my fingers tease her entrance. The dual sensation makes her writhe beneath me, her control completely shattered.
I increase the pressure, circling her clit with my tongue before sucking hard. Her thighs begin to tremble, her breathing becomes erratic. I slip two fingers inside her, curving them to hit that spot that makes her scream.
"Damiano!" Her voice breaks on my name as her orgasm crashes through her. Her inner walls clench around my fingers, her body arching and shaking uncontrollably.
I rise to my knees, keeping my hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades. "Don't move," I command, my voice rough with need. "Stay exactly like that."
Her face is still half-buried in my pillow, her ass raised perfectly in the air, her legs spread. She looks back at me over her shoulder.
I maintain eye contact while I loosen my tie completely, pulling it free with a soft hiss of fabric. My fingers work quickly down my shirt buttons, exposing more of my chest with each passing second. The hunger in her gaze intensifies as I shrug the shirt off completely.
When I unbuckle my belt, her lips part slightly. I push my pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, my cock springing free—hard and throbbing with anticipation.
Zoe's eyes widen slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
I reach for the nightstand, pulling open the drawer to retrieve a condom. I tear the foil packet open with my teeth, never taking my eyes off her perfect ass displayed before me.
Instead of entering her immediately, I position myself behind her and take my cock in hand. I drag the tip along the curve of her ass, tapping it lightly against her skin. Her breath catches, her back arching further.
"You want this?" I ask, slapping my cock against the roundness of her cheek. The soft smack of flesh against flesh fills the room.
"Yes," she whispers, pushing back against me.
I continue tapping my cock against her ass, alternating between gentle slaps and slow drags. Her skin flushes pink under my attention, her breathing growing heavier with each contact.
"Tell me what you want, Zoe," I demand, bringing my cock down harder against her ass.
She whimpers, grinding back against me. "Please..."
"Please what?" I tease, circling the head of my cock against her entrance without pushing in, feeling her wetness coat me through the condom.
"Fuck me," she gasps, desperation lacing her voice. "Please, Damiano, fuck me now."
The week passed in a blur. Days spent with Lucrezia, watching Netflix marathons or shopping at high-end boutiques with Daniel's watchful eyes never far away.
The man is like a shadow—silent, observant, and completely loyal to Damiano.
I've tested his boundaries, trying to shake him, but he sticks to us like glue.
"He's actually nice once you get used to him," Lucrezia whispers as we browse through racks at Saks. "Just don't ask about his scars. He hates that."
I nod, filing away the information. Every detail matters now.
Evenings bring family dinners—a strange concept that's becoming oddly familiar.
Enzo's dry humor, Alessio's calculating gaze, Lucrezia's bright chatter, and Damiano at the head of the table, watching everything.
After dessert, he always excuses himself for "business," and I'm left wondering what exactly that entails.
But nights—nights belong to us. To wandering hands and secret whispers and things I shouldn't want but crave anyway.
I zip my weekend bag closed, double-checking I have everything for Chicago.
This trip is my chance to push further into Damiano's world, to see how he operates outside his kingdom.
The Sartoris are important allies—I know that much from Byron's files—and gaining their trust means gaining access to a whole new level of information.
I haven't told Byron about the trip yet. Something holds me back each time I reach for my phone. I tell myself it's strategy—better to gather comprehensive intelligence first than report half-formed observations. But deep down, I know there's more to my hesitation.
"What are you thinking about?" Damiano's voice startles me as he enters the bedroom.
I smooth my expression into something neutral. "Just making sure I packed everything for Chicago."
Damiano comes up behind me, his large hands resting on my shoulders.
"We leave tomorrow morning," he says, his breath warm against my ear. "Private jet. Seven sharp."
"Private jet?" I turn to face him, raising an eyebrow.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "What did you expect? Commercial?" He says it like it's a foreign concept, something beneath him.
"Who else is coming?" I ask.
"Alessio and Noah will join us. Enzo stays here to watch things." His fingers brush my cheek in a casual gesture that sends unwanted sparks through me. "I've arranged for the penthouse suite at The Peninsula. Best view of the city."
I nod, making mental notes. Alessio and Noah—Damiano's right hand men. This is perfect. The more time I spend with his inner circle, the more I'll learn.
"What about security?" I ask.
Damiano's eyes narrow slightly. "Curious about our arrangements, lupacchiotta?"
"Just wondering if Daniel will be hovering over me in Chicago too," I say quickly.
He studies me for a moment, and I force myself to hold his gaze. "Security will be handled. You don't need to concern yourself with those details."
Which means yes, security will be extensive, but he doesn't want me knowing the specifics. I file that away too.