53. Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Three
Mateo
T he rays of the rising sun filter through the curtains, soft and warm, just like the woman asleep in my arms. I prop myself up on my elbow, resting my head on my hand to drink her in.
Her hair is a wild mane of raven-black strands, fanning out across my pillow.
Jesus, she’s beautiful.
Natural, unassuming, yet capable of bringing me to my knees.
My cock twitches in agreement, my morning wood demanding satisfaction. I can’t wait for us to be married and for me to be able to slide into her perfect heat. What a way to start the day.
Until then, though? I could feast on her again or feed her my cock. But she needs more rest first. We had a late night getting home and an even later night before we fell asleep.
I grin, nuzzling my face into her hair, ignoring my boner for now. When Mari lets go of her shyness, a passionate, uninhibited side of her emerges, a side I’m desperate to discover more of. We’re going to have an incredible life together.
Seriously, how could I have been so blind to what was right in front of me?
The timing must not have been right. That’s the only explanation for my ignorance.
If I’d noticed her before, she would have been far too young.
At twenty, she’s still impossibly young and innocent compared to the life of debauchery I’ve indulged in.
I gently brush a strand of hair from her forehead and place a tender kiss there.
Mamma would have loved her. Papà too. I wish they could have met her. They would’ve been so happy for us.
She’s everything a man in my position could dream of. And not only because she was raised in our world.
She is everything.
Soft yet strong.
Innocent yet daring.
I want to protect her, provide for her, but also watch her spread her wings and fly.
I want to stand beside her as she leaves her mark on the world. Now that she’s no longer under her father’s tyranny she will soar.
I can’t imagine spending a single day without her, yet she’s been in my life all along. I marvel at my blindness these past few years. Especially when, in a matter of seconds, I realized she was it.
And in days, I fell hopelessly in love.
I love her.
And deep down, I know this is a love that will last lifetimes.
Mari begins to stir, and a smile spreads across my face. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks like delicate wings, and a faint furrow creases her brow, as if she’s reluctant to leave the world of dreams.
Her lips part slightly, drawing in a slow, sleepy breath. She looks utterly serene in this unguarded moment.
Her eyes open slowly, her gaze unfocused and a little hazy. For a moment, she looks around, disoriented, as if trying to piece together where she is. Her brows knit, and she blinks a few times, the movement lazy and unhurried.
Then her gaze lands on me.
At first, there’s a flicker of surprise in their depths, followed by something softer, warmer, as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of her lips.
“Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep, and it sends a wave of excitement to my cock.
“ Buongiorno, dolcezza ,” I reply, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. She leans into my touch instinctively, her eyes closing for a second as if savoring it.
“You were watching me,” she says, her voice teasing but quiet, almost shy.
“I couldn’t help it,” I admit, grinning as my fingers trail down to cup her jaw. “You’re breathtaking, even when you’re waking up.”
Her cheeks flush, and she hides her face in the pillow with a groggy laugh. “Stop. I probably look like a mess.”
“No,” I say softly, gently coaxing her eyes back to me. “You look perfect. Always.”
Her gaze locks on mine, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of us. The playful teasing fades, replaced by something deeper, more tender.
Her breath hitches, and my pulse quickens in response. She inches closer, her lips slightly parted, and I’m drawn in by the invitation I can’t resist.
Slowly, I lower my lips to hers, the first touch soft and tentative. But the moment our mouths meet, the world falls away altogether. The kiss deepens, and all thoughts vanish into the sweet rush of her passion for me.
Her hands slip up to my neck, pulling me closer, and I respond in kind, one hand cradling her face, the other sliding along her side, holding her like I’ve craved to hold my One for so long. Each movement is slow and deliberate, as though we both realize this is a time that should be savored, not rushed.
When we finally pull back, breathless, the space between us feels impossibly wrong, and her eyes are darker now, clouded with desire.
“Something hard is poking me in the stomach,” she rasps, her voice sexy as fuck.
Licking her lips, she slides her hand down my front until she reaches my steely cock, circling her hand around, squeezing it.
The moan escaping me can’t be helped. After I made her come last night for the first time in our bed, I resisted the temptation to have her go down on me again. She was exhausted, and having her snuggled up against me was plenty. Well, sort of.
Now though? I’m more than happy for her to take care of me.
“I need a taste,” she says so low and seductive, my balls tighten. Fuck, I won’t last long.
“Go on then, dolce mia , have your appetizer.” I release my hold on her and she glides down my body, trailing kisses in her wake.
Each touch of her lips on my overheated skin seems to soothe yet fire off more desire. I’m such a goner for this woman and we haven’t even made love yet.
Seriously, as soon as Tiero is back from Brazil, I’m dragging her to the altar.
I’ve always wanted a big wedding, but a small, intimate ceremony with just my brother and perhaps her older sister sounds perfect right about now.
But all thoughts of weddings or anything else in the world leave my mind the second Mari’s mouth engulfs my cock.
Fuck me. FUCK ME!
The heat, the way she wraps her lips so tightly around my length, her tongue licking up the precum weeping from me. Perfection.
It’s almost too much. I will myself to control the surge of pure ecstasy rising from my depths.
Not yet! Come on, Mateo. You’re not fifteen anymore!
I gather her hair in my hand and gently pull her off me, giving myself a second to compose. Sitting up, I grab her by the waist and she yelps in surprise when I swing her over my body so her pussy is settled over my face. The scent of her arousal hits me immediately, making my mouth water.
“I’m hungry too,” I tell her, tightening my grip.
I don’t wait for her to get comfortable and pull her down, my tongue darting out to taste her as her mouth goes back to work on me.
Hmm, my heaven.
Mari’s head is resting on my chest, her fingers drawing lazy circles on my abdomen as we bask in post-coital bliss.
For someone who’s only given head once before, she’s incredibly fast working out what gives me the most pleasure, and then drawing it out.
Little devil.
But it’s not like I was any kinder to her. The tease and build-up made for an explosive climax. I can’t remember ever having so much fun or intensity with giving or receiving oral, but with penetrative sex off the table for now, it introduces possibilities I never considered.
Yet I also love that we have this chance to explore each other’s pleasures without diving straight in.
Then something shifts. I sense Mari frowning. She lifts her head off my chest, her gaze traveling deliberately down my body and up my arms. Her eyebrows draw together like she’s stumbled across a puzzle she can’t solve. I cock my head, amused by her sudden focus.
“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” I ask, brushing my thumb over the little furrow forming between her brows.
“How come you have no tattoos?” she finally asks, her tone light but inquisitive. “I thought all Mafia men had them. At least the crest for la famiglia .”
Her words hit hard, and my fingers freeze mid-stroke against her cheek. The question lands like a blow to my chest, and a familiar wave of shame lurches to the surface.
I hesitate, my hand slipping down to the bed as I try to ground myself. The silence stretches, thick and heavy.
Mari’s gaze sharpens, her dark eyes searching mine.
When she speaks again, her voice is quieter, more cautious. “It’s because of your unease with small wounds, isn’t it?”
The breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding rushes out in a shaky exhale. My jaw tightens, and I glance away, heat creeping up my neck.
“It’s ridiculous, I know,” I mutter, my voice laden with bitterness. “A grown man, and this bothers me.” I gesture vaguely, unable to meet her gaze.
Mari reaches for my hand, her touch gentle. Her fingers graze over the faint scars on the back of it, scars that carry more shame than pain.
“It’s not ridiculous,” she says firmly, her voice so warm that I can’t help but look at her.
Her dark eyes meet mine, full of compassion and understanding.
“We all have things that unnerve us,” she continues softly. “It doesn’t make you weak or strange. If anything, it makes you more real… more human.”
Something tightens in my throat. She shifts closer, wrapping her fingers more securely around mine, her warmth grounding me in a way I didn’t know was possible.
“But if it was known, it would change how people see me,” I say, my voice low. “In my position, I can’t afford that. Weakness isn’t just a liability. It’s a target. You give them one crack, and they’ll take everything.”
Her fingers squeeze mine, her expression soft.
“It’s why Tiero and I have always kept it quiet,” I continue after a moment. “Only Romeo knows. Between us, we’ve figured out how to handle situations when they come up.”
She nods, her thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. “I get it,” she says, her voice firm with understanding.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she promises. “Your secret is safe with me. Always.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips, and I press a kiss to the top of her head.
“I know you won’t,” I murmur. “I trust you.”
For a moment, we sit in quiet, the air between us lighter. But then Mari’s gaze shifts, her attention caught by the small pendant resting against my collarbone.
“You wear this all the time,” she says, tilting her head as her fingers reach out for it.
Her touch lingers for a moment before she pulls back slightly, her brows knitting together.
“This doesn’t really suit your style,” she murmurs, her voice puzzled. “It looks ancient.”
She glances up at me, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “It’s special, isn’t it?”
My chest, which had only just begun to relax, tightens all over again.
I reach for the pendant, the cool clay familiar against my fingertips. Turning it over in my hand, I study the intricate carving etched into its surface, the weight of it pressing against my skin like a brand.
“It’s the De Marco legacy,” I reply. “Without it, no one can rule la famiglia .”