38. The shower
CORRADO
38
My internal clock wakes me a few hours after I slept. On any other morning, I would get up and go jogging, but my body can’t respond like it normally does because there’s a hole in the flesh above my hip. Pain pulses at the spot, and I groan as I slide my feet over the edge of the bed and wobble to the bathroom. There, I search the medicine cabinet behind the mirror for pain medication.
Since this is Drago’s safe house, I find all kinds of pain meds and consider swallowing whatever is strongest at maximum dose. Instead, I close the cabinet and lie back in bed with my wife. Her body is soft and inviting. I bury my nose in her hair, smelling her orchid shampoo. It arouses me, and I grow hard against her ass.
Still sleeping, yet sensing me there, she wiggles her bottom. I hold her hip, hoping that’ll stop her from moving.
It doesn’t.
Michela turns and starts mumbling in her sleep. She’s shaking her head and beginning to perspire, clearly having a nightmare. I scoop her up, press her head to my chest, and shush her so she’ll feel safe and as content as I am with her in my bed.
Michela was right when she accused me of controlling the people around me.
Last night, when the situation with Dom escalated, I did what I had to do in order to prevent him from taking off with my wife and using her as a bargaining chip against me. If he held my wife, he could control my decisions, and he knew it. Or at least believed it, which in itself prompted him to run with her.
Her captivity would force my hand in his favor, and my family would have to cover the cartel’s expenses, now and quite possibly for the foreseeable future as well. Once the other Order found we’re laundering the cartel’s money, they’d consider it a breach of an unspoken agreement between our two societies. They’d think I stole their bird, and then I’d have problems not only with the cartel, but with the other organization that is similar to ours.
Global violence would ensue. Wars cost money. Unless they’re for dominance and power, both of which we already possess, they’re unnecessary.
Franko’s family is seeking the next don.
The Benvenutis will too.
Except I can’t allow them to find one. If they want to stay in the order, I must appoint the next head of their family. It must be someone loyal and willing to pay for his predecessors’ mistakes.
Mentally, I list the possible candidates both in the US and abroad and find two, maybe even three men. Severio can choose between them. Any one of those men will do.
When I arrived in New York, I intended to sever ties with four Order members who are no longer serving the organization. Domenico Benvenuti wasn’t one of them, but now that he is, I’ll block the entire family from accessing funds for at least a decade. A decade from now, they can reapply.
They’re lucky they’re all still breathing after what Dom pulled with my wife.
I kiss the top of Michela’s hair. “You are mine.”
Another thing she was right about? When she said she was terrified of her attraction to me. Apparently, it goes both ways.
A soft knock on the bedroom door has me reaching for my piece. I point at the entrance as I sit up. When nobody comes in and the knock repeats itself in a way I recognize, I pick up our bloody clothes from last night and leave the room.
Drago waits in the hallway.
“Morning,” he says.
I grunt. “How long have you been here?” Drago is as silent as any predator.
“Awhile. I resecured the house.”
“And I slept through it.” Fuck. We emerge into the kitchen, and I turn on the lights, then squint and dim the lighting. There. That’s better.
Dressed in black jeans and a deep green shirt, Drago covers his bald head under a baseball cap. At six foot three and with brown eyes, he appears to be any average-looking man you might find working in retail, someone you’d walk past and hardly notice. That’s on purpose.
I offer him my hand, and he shakes it.
“You wouldn’t have heard me even if you were awake,” he says with a wink.
“Is that so?” I open the fridge and grab a bottle of water, then chug it. Damn, I’m thirsty. “What did you do with Dom’s car?”
“It’s in the garage.”
I toss the plastic bottle in the recycling bin. “What will you do with it?”
“I did what I did. It’s done. Hand me the clothes.”
I do. His efficiency makes me happy.
“Is that all the clothing?” he asks.
I nod. “If you’re going into town, bring me my suitcase from the apartment and my wife’s entire wardrobe.”
He tilts his head. “Women tend to have lots of clothes. I have under fifteen minutes to slip in and out of there, and I intend to use it on cleaning up.”
“There’s nothing to clean.”
“There’s always something, unless you’re me.”
“It was unplanned.” Even though we’re alone and this is a safe house, Drago speaks about last night’s events in a vague way just in case someone’s listening. The house is more secure than the presidential panic room, but practicing vigilance even in the most secure spaces makes everyone feel more at ease.
“You left behind carnage,” he says.
“He took my wife.”
“So I hear. Does Severio know?”
I open the family app on my phone. Fifty-seven messages from my sister tell me she’s heard about my eventful evening. To confirm, I play one. She’s crying, thinking I’m not answering because I’m dead. I shoot her a quick message.
Everything’s fine. Talk later. Xoxo
“Severio knows.”
Drago nods. “Good. You will be a good boy and do what I say?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Almighty.”
“Not kidding.”
“You’re the boss. What do you have in mind?”
“Depends on what you intend to do with Domenico Benvenuti once he figures out what happened last night.”
While Domenico Sr. needs no proof, speculation about my involvement will sow seeds of doubt. “He made your list before all this went down.”
Drago nods. “Once he’s dealt with, the family will seek revenge and replacement. This will get messy for sure.”
Only the highest-ranking Benvenutis are Order members. The rest of the family goes their whole lives never knowing about anything. The soldiers, the cousins, like that man Tino, know nothing of the Order.
But they know about their family business, so once they connect Michela’s security team to me and dig around, they’ll come for answers, having no clue that I’ll find them a new boss and save their lives. “We’ll replace Sr. swiftly and not leave a power vacuum.”
Drago purses his lips. “Anyone else going on my list?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“It’s still early, eh?” he jokes, then looks in the direction of the hallway.
Michela’s soft footsteps precede her. She stops in the hallway, where shadows cover the upper half of her body, her long legs the only part of her showing.
As I watch, she curls her toes. “Good morning.” Her morning voice makes me instantly hard, and I wish Drago wasn’t around to hear it. Or to see her legs. Or to see her in general. I dislike the emotions she evokes in me, but I’ll deal with them later.
“I didn’t hear the shower,” she says.
“What?” I ask, frowning.
“The shower. You’re usually in the shower at this time.”
Drago clears his throat, clearly making his presence known and subtly asking me to introduce them. I do not. Instead, I jerk my head toward the sliding door that leads to the backyard.
On cue, but with a smirk, Drago slips out as quietly as a tiger.
Michela and I move toward each other at the same time, but I’m faster and in the hallway before she steps too far into the kitchen. I pin her against the wall and force my leg between both of hers.
My wife smiles and throws her arms around my neck.
I search her face, seeking anything I dislike, something that would make me back off before she lures me into the paradise her sinful body promises. When I find nothing of the sort, I say, “Shower with me.”
I leave for the bathroom, where I slip off my bottoms. From the medicine cabinet again, I grab the medical gauze shield that will seal off the wound from the water.
I step into the stone shower and turn my face up, letting the water wash off last night’s problems still lingering in my head. As I’m mentally compartmentalizing with my eyes closed, I hear the shower door open before I feel Michela’s warm body press against mine.
My dick jerks, precum already leaking.
It’s troubling how much I want this woman. Her arms wrap around my torso and above my waistline to avoid hurting me. She presses her cheek against my chest. We share silence as the water pounds our bodies, and then Michela does something unexpected.
Using her palm on my back, she drums to the beats of my heart.
Her paradise. Yeah, I’m on my way there.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make the lasagna like I said I would.”
The guilt she feels tells me the kind of person she is. Exceptionally good. I’ll destroy her.
“None of what happened last night is your fault,” I say.
“I was mad at you.”
“Are you still mad at me?” I swipe the water from my eyes and look down at her.
Her face is turned up, and she wants me to kiss her. That’s not the look of someone who’s mad. It’s the look of someone who wants attention.
When I don’t dip my head and kiss her, she rises on her toes and cups my face.
I pull back and push her down by her shoulders. On her knees, Michela knows what to do. Big brown eyes gaze up as her fist wraps around the base of my cock.
She guides it toward her parting lips, and I hiss when she sucks it inside. It’s warm and soft, and I imagine as warm and soft as her pussy.
She works me with her mouth, then impales it all the way to the back of her throat. When she gags, I bare my teeth. “Fuck.” I’m going to come in five seconds. This is not a drill.
Michela slides her lips over my skin. She’s forcing my cock down her throat, trying to swallow it whole.
Gesù Cristo.
I step forward to help get it as far down her throat as possible. She grips the backs of my thighs for balance as she bobs her pretty head up and down my cock.
Last night’s eyeliner, which she elegantly drew on her upper eyelids, starts running down her cheeks as she watches me from her position on her knees.
“I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you.” I bite my tongue the moment it comes out of my mouth, but my candor makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. Now I want to tell her more truths, praise her, tell her that she pleases me so.
That’s the idea. That’s what she’s working for. That’s why she’s choking on my cock and why her makeup is running down her face. In pleasing me, she seeks her own pleasure. She wants to make me come because making me come means I’ve let go.
I struggle with letting go. Correction. I hate letting go, even though when I do, I’m relieved and unburdened. I fist her hair and start pumping my hips. “You want to see me lose it? Is that it? Hm?”
She nods and swallows down my tip as I hold myself at the back of her throat. My balls tighten and draw up, and when she starts to slide her lips up and down again, I don’t let her. I hold her head, choking her, forcing her to breathe through her nose.
At least until I pinch her nose closed with my fingers, cutting off her air.
Michela’s eyes widen in surprise.
I don’t know why she’s surprised. The devil loves edge play, and I’ve not been coy with her. What she saw the day she met me is what she’ll now get. If I surrendered my control to her, she would look elsewhere for someone to fulfill her needs.
Before I unplug her nose, I slide in and out twice, and on the third time, I release myself down the back of her throat. My entire body shudders with the force of my orgasm, and I slap my palms against the shower wall and hold myself up as she gulps it all down into her belly.
“Holy Virgin,” I grumble, resting my forehead on my biceps.
With my cock still twitching in her mouth, I tug her hair.
She stands and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I leave the shower to grab a washcloth, and when I return, I wet it so I can wash the mascara and eyeliner from under her eyes. Once I clean her face, I squeeze some shampoo into my palm and turn her around so I can wash her hair.
Washing her abundant hair takes a while. Once I condition it, I finger-comb it. Her hair stops just above her ass, and I can’t resist touching her there. I slide my fingers between her cheeks and rub her small hole before inserting the tip of my middle finger inside and stretching her.
She’s never been fucked here, I’m sure of it.
I grit my teeth as the thought of taking her right now against the shower wall assaults me.
As I touch her puckered hole, she moans my name, and I use the fingers of my other hand to work her clit from the front. Michela bucks, pushing against me. “Gently,” I remind her as I force my finger farther into her tight hole. I am evil. “I’m wounded, and you’re hurting me.”
Immediately, she stills, and that’s how I like her. Still and mine to do with whatever I want. Mine. Her body is mine, and my fingers work her into a frenzy, to the point where she’s chanting my name along with God’s and begging me to make her come.
I let her have her orgasm, but then force one more from her just to see if I can.
I could.
I finish and leave the shower while Michela sits in the corner, her long legs bent at the knees, water hitting her toes. They’re painted red.