Chapter 38
Raffaele
Ten days in paradise with my wife, and each morning I wake up wanting her more than the day before.
The calendar on my phone confirms it’s April sixth. Our birthday. Hers and mine, though she doesn’t know we share it yet.
Today, Alina Brewer-Russo turns twenty-four while I hit thirty-five, and I plan to make every second count. Later. Once I’ve dealt with what Colin texted me was an ‘urgent briefing.’
My phone buzzes again. Fucking Colin and his urgent matters. I slide out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and pull on pants and a t-shirt before heading downstairs.
The past six days have been different from the first four of our honeymoon. I was—am—so fucking proud of her for telling me what she really wanted. And I changed my approach. No more extravagant anything.
Instead, just us. Swimming in secluded coves I’ve known since childhood, exploring hidden trails, teaching her to snorkel off our private beach.
The past two days I’ve been teaching her to drive La Fortuna. Her nervousness at the controls melted under my guidance, replaced by a confidence that tightened something in my chest.
I make my way across the property toward the security house. Colin stands outside, obviously tense. And Ian looks no better beside him.
Hmm… what the hell is going on here? “What’s so important that you needed to drag me away from my wife on her birthday?” I demand, skipping any greeting.
They exchange glances before Ian speaks. “A delivery came about an hour ago.”
“A delivery?” I ask, immediately wondering if my cousins sent anything. But no, they would have told me.
“Yeah,” Ian continues. “It was just a small boat steered by one man. He left this with us and then took off.” He gestures to a polished wooden box sitting on the outdoor table.
My blood runs cold. The box is identical to the one I received the night before my wedding. My dad’s signature.
“Did the delivery guy say anything?” I ask, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
Colin shakes his head. “Not really.” He scratches his head. “He just said he had a delivery for Mr. Russo and that it was urgent.”
“He showed us his license,” Ian adds. “We checked him out and found he works for a boat delivery service. Everything’s legit, just like with the delivery at the house.”
I approach the box slowly, a sickness spreading through my gut as I remove the lid to find exactly what I expected. Perfectly rolled cigars. I lift one and study the label. This time the custom label reads “April 6th”.
My hands clench into fists so tight my knuckles turn white. “Increase security,” I order, struggling to keep my voice level. “I want hourly perimeter checks. Full monitoring of all approaches to the island.”
“Already done,” Ian confirms. “We’ve activated the additional systems and called in more men from the mainland. They’ll be here within the hour.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rage and fear coursing through me. “It’s Alina’s birthday today,” I growl. “I won’t have anything spoil my wife’s day.”
Ian clears his throat, pointing at a small card I hadn’t noticed tucked beneath the cigars. “And yours, boss.”
I snatch up the card sticking to the lid, reading the simple message.
To my son and his bride on your shared day!
A vicious laugh escapes me. Of course he knows we share a birthday. There’s nothing Andrea Russo doesn’t know about the people in his orbit.
“Keep me updated on every boat, every plane, every fucking seagull that comes within a mile of this island,” I command, pocketing the card and closing the cigar box with a sharp snap. “And prepare the getaway boat. I want it ready to move at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, boss,” Colin nods, already reaching for his phone.
“I’m going back to the house,” I tell them. “Handle everything else.”
I return to our bedroom to find Alina exactly as I left her; sprawled across the sheets. My cock hardens instantly at the sight. I strip quickly, dropping my clothes where I stand, and slide carefully onto the bed beside her sleeping form.
She stirs slightly, murmuring something unintelligible as I gently pull the sheet away from her body. Mine. My wife. My birthday gift to unwrap.
I move down the bed, spreading her thighs with careful hands. She sighs in her sleep, unconsciously yielding to my touch. I position myself between her legs, my breath ghosting over her center as I study the pink folds already glistening with arousal.
My first lick is gentle, a slow exploration from entrance to clit. I repeat the motion, flattening my tongue against her sweet cunt.
“Mhmm,” she moans, her hips lifting slightly toward my mouth.
I glance up to see her eyes fluttering open, confusion giving way to pleasure as she realizes what’s happening. “Raffaele,” she gasps, her fingers finding their way into my hair.
I don’t answer, too busy tasting her, circling her clit with the tip of my tongue before pressing a kiss directly to the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“What are you… oh!” Her question dissolves into a moan as I suck gently, increasing the pressure gradually until her thighs begin to tremble around my head.
Only then do I pull back slightly, enough to speak. “Happy birthday, Mogliettina,” I murmur against her wet flesh before spearing my tongue inside her.
“Birthday?” she manages, her voice breathy and disoriented. “How did you—”
I cut off her question by focusing my attention on her clit again, sucking hard enough to make her back arch off the bed. Her hands tighten in my hair, pulling almost painfully as I drive her toward her orgasm.
“Oh God, Raffaele,” she cries out, her hips bucking against my face. “I’m going to…”
“Come for me,” I command against her flesh, the vibration of my voice sending her over the edge.
Her thighs clamp around my head, squashing me, as waves of pleasure wash through her. I work her through it, lapping up her release like a man starved, only easing back when her body goes limp against the mattress.
I wipe my mouth against her inner thigh, leaving a wet streak of her arousal on her pale skin, and blowing on the damp skin just so I can watch the skin pebble.
“That was…” she pants, struggling for words.
“Just the beginning,” I finish for her, moving up to lie on my back beside her.
Placing my hand on her neck, I force her head down to mine, claiming her lips in a bruising kiss. Fuck, I love knowing she’s tasting herself when our tongues intertwine.
“Mhmm,” I groan, forcing myself to rip my mouth from hers. “Sit on my face.”
Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink despite everything we’ve done together over the past ten days. “W-what?”
“You heard me.” I point to my mouth. “I want to be buried in your cunt, wife.”
Hesitantly, she rises to her knees to straddle my head. But I immediately notice she’s holding herself above me, her weight on her knees rather than giving me what I want.
I grab her hips, my fingers digging into the soft flesh. “When I tell you to sit on my face,” I growl, “I expect my wife to fucking do it.” With one forceful movement, I pull her down until she’s fully seated on my face, her wet heat against my mouth.
“Raffaele!” she cries, her hands flying to the headboard for balance. “I’m too heavy, I’ll…”
I silence her concerns by running my tongue through her folds, showing her exactly how much I enjoy her weight on me. Her protests die in her throat, replaced by a low moan as I devour her with renewed hunger.
Her hesitation melts away gradually, her hips beginning to rock against my face as she finds her confidence. I encourage her with my hands on her ass, guiding her movements, showing her how to use my mouth for her pleasure.
“I want…” she starts, then stops herself.
Right now, I don’t care what she fucking wants. All that matters is that I want to drown in her slickness, in her taste. I continue until she screams my name.
“Yes! Oh God! Oh God! Raffaele! I’m… I’m coming. I’m… Yes!”
“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” I growl against her center, drinking her nectar as it gushes from her core. I don’t stop until she’s no longer coming. Then I pause long enough to ask, “What did you want?” My voice muffled against her flesh.
“I want to taste you too,” she confesses, her voice small but determined.
I give her clit one last firm lick before gripping her hips and spinning her around so she’s facing my feet. My cock stands at attention, waiting for her.
She doesn’t hesitate, lifting her hips and moving so she can move down my body until she can wrap her hand around my length and lower her mouth to take me in.
“Fuuuuck!” I groan.
When I feel the familiar tightening in my balls warning of impending release, I pull her off me. “I want to be inside you when I come,” I rasp.
“Okay,” she breathes. Then she lets go of my dick and moves to the side so she can look down at my face. Her pale blue eyes dark with desire, her lips swollen from sucking my cock. “I want to try something new.”
“Oh?” I question, grinning widely at her. “I’m up for trying anything at least once with you.”
Blushing, she looks at my cock. “I want to ride you,” she says, her voice stronger now.
“Then do it,” I challenge, pointing at my dick. “Show me what you’re made of.”
As she throws one leg across me and reaches for my cock, she mutters something that’s too soft for me to catch it.
“Put my cock inside your beautiful cunt, wife,” I groan. “Take me back into your body. Please.”
While there’s nothing sexier than Alina in the throes of pleasure, enjoying herself, watching her struggle to work out the mechanics is anything but. But I don’t fucking care. Seeing her awkwardly angle my cock with a determined expression on her face is humbling.
This woman who’d never been kissed and tried to hide her body from me not too long ago, is now fisting my cock with confidence.
“Let me help you,” I murmur. Steadying her hips with my hand, I help her position the head of my cock against her opening. “Now lower yourself slowly.” Even though I want to buck into her, this is her show.