CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EDEN
The D’Amora stronghold looms ahead, stately and majestic in its historical splendor. Guards buzzed our car through the iron gates, and I see my parents have already arrived for this official melding of our two families: Marino and D’Amora.
“Nervous?” Luca squeezes my hand gently as our driver pulls into the circular drive.
“A little.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. If Fabian tries anything, my fist will put him on the ground a second later.”
“It’s not Fabian I’m worried about,” I admit.
I trust Luca to protect me. Plus, there’s no way Fabian tries something in front of his father, the don.
He’s too cowardly for such a blatant show of contempt—at least, that’s my take on the man since we’ve never actually spoken.
“It’s my parents. I’m not sure what to expect from them. ”
“What do you mean? They’ll be happy to see their daughter and tolerant of their new son-in-law. That’s basic family dynamics, I believe, even for people who aren’t part of the Boston mafia.”
“Haha, very funny.” I roll my eyes at his obvious amusement.
House staff welcome us into the spacious foyer then guide Luca and I into a sitting room reeking of wealth with its crystal chandelier and golden-flecked wallpaper.
Leather sofas face each other in front of a massive fireplace where a painted portrait of Enzo, his wife, and a younger Fabian presides.
“Luca! Eden! The guests of honor have arrived.” Don D’Amora barges forward with a wide grin and open arms as if we’re beloved family instead of pawns in his political game.
Or is it Luca’s game?
Mom and Dad stand from their stiff positions on one of the sofas and greet us with strained smiles. “How was Italy, dear?” my mom asks after a perfunctory hug.
“Beautiful. Warm.” Turning to Enzo, I tilt my head downward in deference. “Thank you for gifting us your villa.”
“Of course. That’s what family is for. Speaking of… Fabian! Come say hello to your brother and his bride.”
Luca’s grip on my hand tightens before he sweeps a thumb over mine in a small gesture of comfort.
Fabian saunters closer and studies our held hands with a smirk. “Ah, the lovebirds. Tell me, brother , how is it fucking my ex-fiancée?”
Mom chokes on a gasp, the only sound in the aftermath of the bomb Fabian just dropped on our friendly family dinner. Silence reigns for another moment while my grip on Luca’s hand tightens until my fingers start tingling from blood loss.
A growl emanates from his chest, like a beast about to pounce on his prey, but I’m not letting the evening devolve into bloodshed.
Enzo smacks his youngest son’s head with a harsh blow.
“Show some respect to your brother and his wife, or I’ll have Ricci teach you how to behave.
” The reference to the D’Amora enforcer has my eyebrows winging skyward.
It’s no secret that whenever Enzo needs somebody taken care of—intimidated, injured, or worse —he calls Benito Ricci.
“Sorry, Father,” Fabian murmurs under his breath, a death glare burning in his narrowed gaze. The apology is half-assed and an obvious lie, but it’s enough to allow my mother to sweep forward and direct us to the dining room, expertly ignoring the tension among the D’Amoras.
You’re a D’Amora, too.
The realization rattles my foundation just like it did the first time I learned of my impending nuptials. From the edges of the mafia straight to the red-hot center of danger and mistrust.
“Are you okay? We can leave if you want to,” Luca whispers in my ear.
I shake my head and force a wobbly smile. “I’m fine. We expected trouble tonight, and Fabian didn’t disappoint. Let him air his ire with an audience. It’s safer to let your father deal with him than you taking matters into your own hands.”
Luca grunts in disagreement but doesn’t press the issue. I pray he keeps his composure the rest of the evening, too.
Only a few more hours to go.
We can make it.
***
Barely.
We barely made it through the entire evening without incident. It helped that Fabian left in the middle of the meal, citing some work call. Enzo hadn't looked pleased.
Things got awkward one more time when Enzo brought up Blackthorn, and my parents realized I was a pawn in the groom switch. But otherwise, my mom kept the conversation going with breezy updates about various families.
“A reward for your strength tonight at dinner.” Luca presents a black velvet box, and my brows wing up in confusion as I shake off the memory of the evening. We just got back home, and I'm dying to strip and change into comfier clothes.
Another gift from Luca is unexpected.
“We’re already married…” I say, cautiously accepting the box.
Luca grins. “It’s not a ring, Butterfly. Just open it.”
I flip the case open to find two gold figure-eight metal pieces with butterflies hanging from the bottoms. “Um, what are they?” They’re missing studs to delineate them as earrings. Maybe they’re charms? But where’s the chain necklace or bracelet to accompany them?
“Nipple clamps. Of a sort.”
“W-What?” Shock stiffens my shoulders as I study the pieces with new intensity. I wouldn’t call our lovemaking vanilla per se, but this is definitely a new development.
“How…” I clear my throat. “How do they work?”
“Shall I demonstrate?” A wicked grin suffuses his cheeks. “Strip, Butterfly, and I’ll show you.”
Blushing, I wiggle out of the dress I wore to dinner then unclip my lavender bra, which leaves me in matching silk panties. Luca reaches a finger out and traces a nipple that immediately stands at attention.
Removing one of the clamps from its velvet bed, he slides it over my nipple.
The cool metal is quickly warmed by his fingers.
“By pushing the eight together, I can control how tightly it clamps together.” He tests the binding, and I gasp at the sensation.
“Instead of traditional clamps, these make it look like your nipples are pierced which is fucking sexy as hell.”
“And as close as I’m ever going to get to pierced nipples.” I shiver at the thought of needles so close to such a sensitive area.
“Trust me, I get it.” He glances up at me with a sheepish expression before pulling his collar aside to reveal the small cross on his chest. I noticed all of the Blackchapel Bastards have the same design somewhere on their person.
“The guys like to make fun of me, but I’m afraid of needles.
It’s why I only have this tattoo as part of our brotherly bond.
It was pure torture sitting through the session. ”
I trace the black cross. “I’m happy to hear you’ve got at least one weakness.”
Luca’s confidence overwhelms me sometimes; it makes me second guess myself because I feel so inadequate when it comes to basic things.
Thanks Mom and Dad for such a strict and sheltered childhood growing up.
“I’ve got more than one, baby.” He adds the second clamp to my other nipple before licking the tip. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. I’m going to fuck these tits and send these little butterflies flying.”
“I’m not opposed to the idea,” I whisper, willing to lay back and let him do it right now.
“My sweet, dirty girl. Always so willing to please me.” He eases my panties down my trembling legs then guides me backward to sit on the end of our bed. Kneeling on the rug, his hands grab my knees and spread my thighs apart. “But first let me eat. I’m hungry for dessert.”
His head dips to kiss along my inner thigh. Hot breath sends goosebumps raising along my skin, and I arch my back at the sensation, inhaling sharply.
Luca is too good at this. Attentive. Creative. And he only craves me. A miracle I still struggle to wrap my mind around.
My entire life I've considered myself average. Nothing special. No one has ever disabused me of that belief either.
Except for Luca.
I sigh as the wet tip of his tongue finds my clit and circles the aching button. My nipples swell with the pressure from the clips and the sweet tension he’s building in my pussy.
“Luca…” My head falls back. My eyes close. My focus narrows to Luca and his talented mouth.
“Mmm, carissima .” Luca’s teeth graze my clit, and I jerk at the slight sting. “My little Butterfly is so pretty when her cunt’s being eaten by her husband.”
Two thick fingers fill my empty channel and rub the spongy spot with a direct line to my clit. Crying out, an orgasm suddenly rises and crashes, and Luca’s growl of approval has more arousal seeping from me to coat his tongue and hand.
“Delicious.” Luca lifts his head high enough to suck on my engorged nipples before he rips off his shirt and pants. One hand falls to his cock and strokes the hard length. “Scoot a little further down, baby, so I can slide between those pretty tits.”
I immediately follow his instructions then cup my breasts to form a deep valley for his cock. The butterflies swing across my flesh in an erotic dance, and my breathing quickens at the sensation. It’s like he didn’t just lick me to completion a minute ago; my body is primed for more.
Luca climbs onto the bed and rubs the shiny head of his cock through the shadowy vee my breasts create. Precum slicks my skin, helping to ease the glide of his first slow thrust.
We both groan at the obscene picture his dark, throbbing cock makes against my pale breasts. I lick my lips and accidently lap at the purplish head, too.
“Fuck!” Luca shouts, jerking back for a second before plunging forward again.
This time I’m prepared and wrap my lips around the fat tip and suck until he shifts back.
We continue this rhythm—Luca fucking my tits with increasing power, fulfilling his promise to make the butterflies on my nipples fly, while I suck and lick the sensitive head of his cock at the end of each thrust.
“How are you feeling, baby?” His raspy voice zings straight to my clit where he reaches back to test how wet I am, slamming his fingers into my rippling pussy.
“G-Good,” I whimper, desperate to satisfy him. Desperate to experience another explosive orgasm.
“Prepare to feel even better.” That’s the only warning he gives before he removes the clamps and blood rushes back into my nipples.
I mewl at the sharp tingling feeling. It’s multiplied when Luca stops thrusting between my breasts, so his teeth can capture a sensitive tip and flick it with his tongue.
“Luca, stop teasing me.” More arousal coats my thighs, and I know the bedding is soaked beneath us. I need him stretching me full. I’m mindless with desire.
“Does my wife need my cock? Do you need to be fucked by your husband?”
God, I love when he talks dirty to me. It’s crude and raw and makes me hot as hell.
“ Yes .”
The next thing I know, his cock is buried deep in my pussy as Luca starts a punishing pace. Pounding hard with each thrust and sending me sliding up the mattress.
My hands catch on the headboard as I brace for each powerful impact of our joining. Luca may be sweet and gentle outside the bedroom, but inside?
He's brutal. A conquering warrior determined to claim his pleasure as roughly as possible, and I love it.
It's not practiced or tempered to an acceptable level of passion. It's unruly. No-holds-barred. Honest .
“Baby, I can't wait any longer. I need you to come for me,” Luca pants in my ear. He tweaks my sore nipple, and it's enough to send me over the edge again.
My body shudders beneath him as he lets go. A primal roar booms from his chest, sweat gleams on his muscles.
He's beautiful.
And he's mine.