Chapter 45 Massimo
MASSIMO
“If there was anyone I didn’t expect to see here, it was you, old friend,” Vittorio said, sinking into the pew next to me. His small chapel was a warm refuge from the storm outside. It had been snowing all day. Maybe the trains would all get canceled? A man could only dream.
“No need for holy water, I won’t stay long,” I reassured him.
He chuckled. “I think we both know you’re safe from heavenly retribution. You’re not half as terrible as you think you are.”
“Tell that to my wife.”
Vittorio sighed. “She’s still upset? If you had listened to me, I could have saved you this headache.”
“You really never miss a chance to say I told you so, do you?”
“I’m a priest, I preach—what more do you expect?”
I just shook my head and dropped it into my hands. I didn’t want to go home and see my empty room. It would make it all too real. When I’d heard that Lucy and her bodyguard had come back, I knew it was for Katarina.
And I had to let her go . . . that much was obvious. If I wanted her forgiveness, I just had to do it, suffer without her, wait for her return. It was penance I wasn’t sure I’d survive.
“Well, in that case, I’m going.” I stood up.
There was no point in delaying the inevitable.
I had to get used to my new reality. I was tracking down Tatiana’s mother.
If she wasn’t able or willing to meet her, then I had to adjust things for the little girl who’d be living with us.
I had no idea how to explain to Tatiana that Katarina was going away .
. . Maybe she wouldn’t go because of her?
My heart leapt pathetically at the slightest sliver of hope that gave me . . . that maybe Katarina would stay, not because of me, but her sister.
“Yes, go on and get home. You’ve a family to look after now,” Vittorio advised.
A family? When one of them wanted to escape me? I’d made a mess of my family before it had ever gotten started. It was just like me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he called.
I waved over my shoulder. “Looking forward to it.”
The townhouse was still when I entered, just as I’d feared it would be. Tatiana and Paolo were no doubt asleep at this late hour, and Katarina? She was probably halfway to Florence. I resisted checking the tracker on the dog tags. I’d at least wait until morning.
I made a mental note to check out houses in Florence, as well. If Katarina wanted to live in Florence, that was fine . . . there was no rule that I couldn’t rent a place there, too, while she was there.
Fuck, I was doing it again . . . manipulating things. It came so naturally it was challenging to stop.
I climbed the stairs slowly to my room. I already knew it was going to smell like Katarina, and I was probably going to spend the entire night tortured and hard, wishing she was there.
Fucking the mattress because it smelled like her would be a new low, but really, how long would that smell last?
I had to take advantage of it while I had the chance.
I got to my bedroom and pushed open the door.
The covers were unmade, which I’d specifically asked Paolo for.
I stepped into the room and heard a creak coming from the stairs.
I stilled, alertness flashing through me, pushing away my sadness and regret and filling me with adrenaline.
Was there someone in my fucking house? A minion of Hallow Hall?
A leftover man from the Stoyanov family?
I turned silently and made my way back along the hall toward the stairs.
The soft patter of someone trying very hard to be quiet met my ear.
I advanced down the stairs. There was a soft creak. I knew that sound like I knew every single sound in my house. It was the library door.
I reached it and pushed it open, waiting a moment to see if anyone showed themselves.
It was quiet inside, the fire banked but still warm. A single lamp was lit on a table next to a wingback leather chair, so the room was shadowy. Plenty of places to hide.
I stepped into the room and smelled it. As sweet as perfume, but priceless and unique.
The smell of an angel.
She moved quickly, but I was quicker, grabbing my assailant and spinning us both so her back met the wall. I made sure to cushion the blow with my forearm.
A flash of silver and a sharp prick to my neck. I was transported back to Hallow Hall and the way Katarina had begged me for her life . . . how the tables had turned.
Now I was the one begging her for my life, because without her, I was a dead man.
She looked up at me, alive and vital and so fucking real. She was here. She hadn’t left.
She pressed the small knife to my throat, and I recognized it as one from my bedside.
“I’d ask what you’re doing here, but I’m too fucking happy to see you,” I admitted roughly.
She wet her lips, short-circuiting my brain.
“What do you mean, what am I doing here? This is my house, too, isn’t it?” Her voice was throaty and low and undid me in ways I didn’t know were possible.
I nodded. “This is your house. All my homes are your homes . . .”
She arched an eyebrow. “All your homes? Now you’re just showing off.”
I nodded and flexed my rigid cock against her belly. Fuck, it felt good just to press against her.
“All my homes, here and abroad, and cars, and investments . . . all yours,” I murmured, rocking against her and ignoring the point of the knife.
“As long as we stay married, right?” she pointed out in a cool tone.
I shook my head. “In the event of a divorce, even if that’s tomorrow. I thought you were going with Lucy?”
She swallowed hard and I watched her throat move with it. She was so fucking beautiful.
“I told you I wanted a choice . . . not that I wouldn’t choose you,” she said softly.
My heart was beating so hard I could barely think. My blood was racing and my cock straining, all to be closer to this woman. To consume her blinding light and keep it for myself.
My own personal salvation.
“So, are you telling me even with all the choices in the world . . . you choose me?” It sounded unbelievable, even to my ears.
But then she was smiling, a sunrise lighting up her face, and she nodded.
“Who else would I choose but my husband . . . the man I love . . . my own personal devil?” she murmured, letting the knife drop.
“Say that again,” I demanded, hauling her into my arms.
“The man I love? Or my husband?”
“My husband. . . . Call me your husband again,” I commanded.
She laughed. “You’re my husband, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m here to stay, I’m afraid.”
I pressed my face into the nook of her neck, lifting her against me.
“Thank fucking God,” I murmured, pressing my pounding heart against hers. “Thank God,” I repeated, the closest I’d ever come to a prayer. “The fact that you exist is almost enough to make me a believer.”
“Really?” Katarina said softly, and leaned up on her toes to kiss me. “Show me then. I’ve missed you and I want you to show me.”
“Fuck, you’re killing me,” I muttered, and carried her to the rug in front of the fire. “You destroyed me, dismantled every single cell and climbed inside. I’ll never get you out,” I said, more of a low chant than words that I was even conscious of.
She was only wearing a silky robe and pajama set. Now she wore pale ivory satin, fitting for an angel.
The material slipped down her body with a whoosh and pooled around her ankles.
I was already kneeling before her and lifting one leg over my shoulder.
She reached out for the mantelpiece, her eyes fixed on me as I leaned forward and pressed my face against her exposed cunt.
I swiped my tongue up the length of her slit, dipping inside and then focusing on her clit.
She moved her hips, demanding my attention everywhere that made her shudder and twitch.
I looked up at her as I fucked her with my tongue.
She really was an angel, with her skin glowing in the firelight, her blond hair strewn in ribbons around her shoulders.
Her blue eyes were unfocused, lost in pleasure, her hands in my hair.
I could die a happy man. She’d come back to me. She’d chosen me.
She was mine.
She came suddenly, a sweet little moan leaving her on a rush. Her cum ran down my chin and dripped onto my collarbones, and I was washed clean . . . a new man.
Her husband.
From now on, nothing else mattered.
I caught her when her shaking legs failed and pulled her into my arms.
“No passing out yet, I’m only just getting started,” I murmured, and carried her to the wingback chair.
I settled onto the soft leather and cradled her on my lap, swinging her legs to bracket mine so she was straddling me.
I tugged my pants down just enough for my cock to spring free, desperate to be closer to her hot, wet heat.
She slid her hands under my T-shirt, almost shyly. She still had so much to learn about the power she had over me. How I was already her willing servant.
“You want me to take it off?” I teased her, flexing my hips so my cock brushed against her belly.
She nodded. “I like to feel your skin against mine.”
“As you wish, micetta.”
I tugged the T-shirt off and tossed it away, then stilled as Katarina’s hand circled my aching cock.
“All this, just for me?” she teased me back, gently pumping my shaft.
“Everything’s for you, today and every day to come,” I gasped as she got braver and slid a finger across the head of my cock, teasing the slit at the top.
“Show me,” she whispered, just like before. I knew what she wanted. I wanted the same thing. To be connected in all the ways we could. To be one.
I angled my cock straight up, and she rose on her knees and positioned herself over me. Then she was sinking down. Her cunt flexed and stretched around me, resisting letting me in before finally relenting. A thumb to her clit eased my way and made her moan. She’d already come and was so sensitive.
Finally, she was fully impaled on me. My balls pressed against her ass, and her tits pressed into my chest. I pulled her forward into a hug, remaining deep.
I wrapped my arms around her. There was nowhere to go from here; we fit perfectly in the chair, joined as we were.
I took a deep breath, feeling her heart against mine.
I was exactly where I wanted to be . . .
exactly where I wanted to live, really, from now on.
I don’t know how long we sat like that, warmed by the fire, perfectly content.
The only thing nagging at my attention was the desperate urge in my balls to come in this woman.
To fill her up and maybe, just maybe, plant a seed.
We could start our own little family, right here, tonight.
Along with Tatiana, we could have a nursery full of kids to dote on and take care of.
I snaked a hand to her clit, less sensitive now and ready to come again. I rubbed slow circles against the swollen hood and gradually she started to move on me. Nudging up and down, slowly rolling her hips and experimenting with being in control.
I worked her clit faster, knowing that despite how much I was enjoying her slow exploration, I was only human, and I’d blow soon . . . but not before her.
She came first, always.
I rubbed at her clit, and she rose up and sank faster, working herself quicker and quicker, her thigh muscles clenched and tits bouncing gloriously.
I still needed to feed her up, clothe her in the finest materials, give her the best of everything. I couldn’t fucking wait to do all of it. I wanted to spoil her like no one had ever been spoiled before.
Maybe one day soon, those beautiful tits would be full of milk.
Fuck, just the thought of my angel feeding our child, taking care of a baby in such a natural, fundamental way moved something primitive in me.
Something as old as time. I wanted to procreate with this woman.
I wanted a family with her . . . people to protect and provide for.
Reasons to live.
She was moving erratically now, getting close to coming. She became frantic, moving fast, her pussy flooded with wetness. I felt her getting close to the edge and rubbed her clit harder to push her right over.
She clenched all around me, crying out. I kissed her hard and thrust up into her when she froze. Her cunt was so tight it was hard to move. She was milking me with those slick, pulsing muscles, and I couldn’t help but follow.
I growled against her mouth as I came, a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her face to mine, the other still working her clit.
I spilled inside her, sunk so deep she’d never get me out.
“That was amazing,” Katarina murmured, snuggling into my chest and making no move to lift herself off me.
I was still hard, turned on by the very fact that I was still inside my wife.
“I missed home so much,” she continued, and tilted her head to look up at me.
“So did I,” I answered.
She smiled faintly. “You never left home . . . You were never Sergei’s guest.”
“Maybe not, but being here with you is the first time I’ve been home in a very, very long time,” I confessed.
“Well, me neither,” she admitted. She looked so beautiful there, I suddenly wanted to see her in a white dress walking down the aisle toward me, everyone we knew looking on and understanding that she was mine.
“Do you want a real wedding? Something big, a fancy dress . . . whatever you want, you’ll get it.”
She shook her head. I was more disappointed than she was.
“No need for a wedding. I’ve never cared about all of that . . . but I have an idea for the honeymoon.”
“You do? Somewhere exotic? You want to lie on a beach somewhere beautiful?”
She shook her head, a playful smile on her lips.
“Not even a little bit. But don’t worry .
. . you’ll like it. It’s right up your alley,” she said mysteriously.
I didn’t care where we went or what we did.
We could wait in line at the bank for two weeks if that’s what she wanted to do; it wouldn’t matter.
We’d be together, and nothing else would matter.
I could have been lost in that moment forever, until . . . she shivered.
I stood up carefully, keeping her perfectly filled by my cock.
I started toward the stairs.
“Where are you taking me?” she squealed, and wriggled, making me groan. Cum worked down my thighs, released from Katarina’s tight little cunt, still stretched by my cock.
“To bed, to warm you up, angel. Our night’s only just beginning.”