41. Carina
CHAPTER 41
Carina
I haven’t allowed myself to grieve. I fear if I do I’ll slip into a vat of despair that not even Constantine will be able to pull me from.
My fury is the only thing driving me. The sweet promise of exacting vengeance is what keeps me motivated.
Because when I close my eyes . . . when I close my eyes I see his bloodied face.
I fist my hand against the desk in Constantine’s office. An office he says is mine just as much as it is his. Yet still, with the lingering scents of cigar and Constantine’s signature cinnamon and musk lingering in the air I only think of this as his.
Exhaustion weighs heavy on my shoulders as my heart begs to burst from the cage of my ribs.
I aimlessly rap my knuckles along the wooded desk. The sound is far more comforting than my thoughts.
Since Niall’s death it has been two days since gaining any new information. I underestimated Savio and Luca. Clearly they’ve had this safe house planned for years.
The Fiore Famiglia has gone incognito. But they can’t hide in the dark for long. You can’t hide where you don’t belong. And the dark belongs to me.
I lean back in the plush office chair. Elongating my body and propping my feet on the wooden surface. I allow myself to feel the exhaustion that has been weighing upon my shoulders.
The sound of the door opening disrupts my reprieve. But only for a moment. I know who it is before I even glance in his direction.
I feel his raw masculinity. His power. It’s a tangible thing. A call. And it’s one I’ll always answer to.
His expression is troubled. His brows knit as his eyes worry over me. I long to smooth the lines of concern, but even I know they won’t fade. Not until Savio and Luca are dead. And who is to tell if they will truly fade then.
Constantine will continue to worry until I fall apart in his arms. Until I grieve.
He crosses the office with bare feet. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and his chest bare. The mark of my name peeks through his chest hair.
“You should be resting,” he says in a low tone.
“Are you saying I look tired, dear husband?”
“I’m smart enough to know I should never tell a woman she looks tired,” he says but I can feel the but coming. “But,” ah, there it is , “you’ve hardly slept. Even in my own slumber I feel the moment you slip out of bed. There’s an absence. And I fear it’s not only physical.”
I work a swallow. “I see his face. When I close my eyes I’m haunted by the sight of him.”
“Carina.” My name is spoken with a myriad of emotions. Empathy being the most prominent.
He closes the distance between us. One moment I am in his chair and in the next I’m in his strong embrace. I tuck myself into him. Making myself as small as possible as I hold onto him like he’s a rafter.
“How did you do it? When your parents passed, how did you grin and bear it?”
A chaste kiss is placed upon my head before I feel his fingers play with my hair. “I didn’t.”
“You never showed it.”
“I was only to be perceived how I wanted the world to see me. After pa had passed I needed this world we live in to understand they had to fear me. That I was more ruthless than my pa. More cutthroat. More beast than man. We were in a vulnerable position. I had to become something more.”
“The Devil of the East Coast,” I muse. “Your own rebirth.”
He hums thoughtfully. “Not necessarily. I was born into this life, Carina. I knew I was to be Don one day. I just hadn’t expected it at that age. But it’s in my blood. There was no other path for me. The man I am was the man I was born to be. The only thing missing to make me complete was you.”
I place my hand over his tender heart. “But you made me realize I was born for this life, too. I’ve always held something dark within me. You showed me it didn’t mean I was like them.”
“My own angel with black wings,” he muses and it warms my heart. “So much power you hold in just that pinky of yours. Never forget it, amore.”
“I won’t,” I promise. He presses another kiss to my head. And I’ve come to realize that his soft head kisses have become my favorite.
“Now, would you please come to bed?”
Unbidden a chuckle passes my lips. Constantine pulls my head back by tugging my hair so our eyes meet.
With a brow raised he asks, “Care tell what has you laughing?”
My lips twist with humor. “You of all men begging me to come to bed with you.”
“Ah,” he sighs amused. “Well, the bed is too big without you. And if I can hear that laughter once more I’ll beg until my voice dies out.”
“So devoted to me.”
He answers by claiming my mouth. And maybe I was wrong. Maybe a kiss like this is my favorite. A kiss so carnal and deep it feels as if he’s possessing me. One where I don’t have control over my body. Where I have no choice but to succumb to his seduction. Where the only thing that exists is him.
His hand makes way under my negligée. My skin burns from his touch. I ache to feel his hands everywhere, yet where I ache the most is between my thighs.
I shift restlessly against him. Needing him to soothe the ache I spread myself open by straddling him.
He accepts my invitation. His fingers part my lips, gather my arousal and circle around my engorged clit.
“Always so fucking wet,” he groans.
“Please,” I whimper. His thumb keeps circling at a slow pace. It’s torture. It’s bliss. “Constantine.”
“No.” He slaps my pussy and I almost jerk out of his embrace. “Who am I, Carina?”
I know the word he wants to hear. “Husband,” I breathe.
I feel his smirk against my lips. I’m awarded with three of his fingers sinking inside me. “Ride my fingers, wife. Make a mess of me.”
Needing no further instruction I set to do just that. I ride his fingers with a wild abandon. There’s no rhythm. Only a brutal pace that somehow isn’t enough.
“Husband,” I mewl as he curls his fingers inside me.
“Are you aching for my cock, wife? Does your pretty pussy need to be stretched?” Dio mio. His filthy mouth has me clamping around him.
“Yes.”
“Then take me out and use me.”
With eager fingers I work him out of his sweatpants. He places both of his hands on my hips as I guide him inside me. My mouth falls open on a silent scream as his cock fills me.
Hooking his fingers in my mouth he keeps my lips pried apart. “Your voice will never be silenced. Not even in the throes of passion. Now scream for me, wife. Scream for all to hear.”
And I do. My scream is so loud I fear I may break the opaque glass of the door. I use him for my own pleasure. Rolling my hips. Creating a pace that is both maddening and oh so delicious. My hands find their rightful place around his throat. I feel his cock swell when I squeeze his neck.
The pleasure and the pain. We both can’t get enough.
I feel the signs of my climax coming. The heat unfurls in my stomach. The pleasure that sends shivers down my spine. How my nipples ache and my pussy convulses. I’m so close to bliss that I can taste it.
A loud insisting knocking upon the door stops me. Constantine groans his frustration. Releasing my hips he frames my face. My focus returns to him. “Don’t pay attention to them. Pay attention to me. They can wait. Make yourself come, amore.”
It’s so easy to get swept up in his lust. Because the sound of the door has become lost to me. I stare in his pupil blown eyes as I chase my orgasm.
I move his hands from my face to cup my breasts. He molds them between his hands. Pinches my nipples to the point of pain. Soothes the ache with the flat of his tongue only for the pain to bite back with the nip of his teeth.
This time the knocks are followed by Pietro’s voice which sounds urgent. “Don, Donna Donati? I have news for you.”
“Give us a minute, Pietro,” Constantine bites out. He abandons my breasts to pay attention to my ass. He pries my cheeks apart as his thumb circles my rosette.
“I wouldn’t interrupt if it wasn’t important,” he insists.
Constantine sinks his thumb inside my ass while his cock hits the special spot inside me that has me seeing stars. My eyes roll to the back of my head.
“What I’m doing is important,” he grunts. I don’t even know how he’s managing to carry a conversation. My mind has gone to another planet.
“But Don-”
“Fucking Christ, Pietro! What is it?” He asks as he ruts inside me.
“We found the safe house.”