37. Margot
Chapter 37
Margot
S omewhere in the distance, a door creaks open, followed by footsteps echoing down the hall. My heart stutters, a painful reminder that the information I gave to Massimo hours ago, will have ended in a man’s last breath. I exhale, waiting for him to return; to confirm what I already know is done.
The room is bathed in a soft glow from the moonlight that shines through the bedroom window. I’ve been watching the world outside continue to revolve, contemplating the ‘what-ifs’ of our situation. What if I hadn’t told Massimo what I heard? Would Aldo have been able to follow through on his plan? Would I have been next? They’re all questions that will remain unanswered, at least for me.
I feel him before I turn to see him. He halts in the middle of the room, his eyes unfocused and seeming to look through me, rather than at me. His black shirt bears darker patches and for a moment, I wonder what he was forced to do before I clear the thought from my mind. I want to go to him, to give him comfort, but I don’t know if he’ll let me.
He isn’t the same man that left this room. I can feel the change in him, and I don’t know how to get him back.
My attention skims down his body, making sure he’s at least physically okay, even if I can feel his pain down to my very core.
When my attention lands on his hands, he holds them up, staring at them as if for the first time. Something about the sight of them sets him in motion. He turns, and without a word, walks into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.
Nausea grips my stomach and I force myself to take steadying breaths. This isn’t because of what Massimo has done, this is because of what could have happened. I’m glad that I told him what I’d uncovered, even if that means he had to kill a man. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost him .
Unsure of what do to, I wait. I don’t know how much time passes, but I hear the shower running and then switching off. And when he returns to the bedroom, our gazes clash in the reflection of the window before he rips his away. The towel he has on is slung low on his hips and droplets of water fall from his hair, running down his chest. Fixated on him, I watch as he walks to the bed before taking a seat at the end.
“Come here.” His voice is quiet but still strong and that provides me with some comfort.
Pushing away from the wall, I walk toward him, coming to a stop in front of his parted legs. He grabs the T-shirt I threw on over my ripped dress earlier and pulls me into him, burying his nose in my chest as he sucks in a heavy breath. I wrap my arms around his head, holding him close, the faint hum of the air conditioner the only sound around us.
Massimo smooths his hands up the back of my thighs, applying a light pressure that forces my knees to buckle onto the bed. I straddle his lap as his hands find their way under the cotton T-shirt.
With his nose stroking the column of my neck, he murmurs, “I need you.”
I dive my fingers into his hair and hold him still as I lean back. “I’m here,” I whisper.
The evidence of Aldo’s betrayal has clearly taken its toll on him. He’s broken, something I never thought I’d see. He needs me to mend the pieces of him that have shattered at the truth he’s had to face, and as his wife, I will do exactly that.
With my eyes searching his, I try to tell him how much he’s come to mean to me, that I’m sorry for what he had to do but that I love him anyway.
I love him .
The thought hits me like a bullet straight to the chest. But I don’t have time to process it before his mouth is on mine. His kiss is searing yet tender as he coaxes my mouth open. He’s seeking solace and I give it to him freely.
When Massimo stands, I wrap my legs around his waist, our mouths still fused as our tongues tease and tangle. He turns us, climbing over the bed before lowering me onto the mattress.
Settling between my legs, he breaks the kiss, trailing his hot mouth from my lips, over my jaw and down my neck. My skin pebbles in his wake and my nipples pucker in anticipation. I want him. I need him. More than the air I need to survive. I’m too lost in the haze of us to figure out why that is, or what it means, but I will. Later .
He sits up, his towel long gone as he kneels over me looking like a God in all his nakedness.
“Take it off, I want to see my wife,” he commands, the look in his eyes heating every inch of my skin.
Sitting up, I pull the cotton material over my head before throwing it on the floor and turning my attention to the ruined dress. My chest heaves, every breath fueled with an excitement that I can’t control. My fingers fumble with the material before I free myself and throw the dress in the same direction as the T-shirt.
Suddenly shy, I dart a glance at Massimo. It doesn’t escape me that this is the first time my husband has seen me fully naked.
What if he doesn’t like what he sees?
I shake off the thought, my focus moving down his body, over his hard abs to his cock. It’s thick and jutting out from his body with pre-cum leaking from the tip. I lick my lips, swallowing down the saliva pooling in my mouth.
I reach out, wrapping my hand around him. Rubbing my thumb over the tip, I look up at him. His face is tense and he hisses, placing his hand over mine and guiding me up and down his shaft before removing my hand completely.
Easing me back onto the mattress, he hovers above me, his cock resting on my pussy. I cup his face, my focus shifting momentarily to his ring on my thumb before returning to his eyes.
“I…” Emotion blocks my words from coming out. The weight of what he’s had to do sitting heavy on my chest, because I know the gravity of the situation. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”
Sliding my hand between us, I wrap my hand around Massimo’s cock, stroking his length. He grazes his teeth over one nipple, as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. The pleasure and pain that rush through me has my back arching, pushing my chest further into his face, and silently begging for more.
Massimo sucks the tight bud into his mouth, sliding his tongue around it before releasing it with a pop. He moans, a deep guttural sound as I stroke him, squeezing the head of his cock before running my thumb over the slit. Moisture floods my pussy and my body aches to ease his pain.
Massimo groans, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he pushes inside of me in one smooth stroke. My walls clench around him, my slickness helping him to slide to the hilt with ease.
“Fuck. You’re so wet,” he breathes, his teeth nipping at my skin.
I wrap my legs around his waist, holding him tight as tremors ripple through my body. Massimo pulls back, his gaze searching mine. My lips part and my breaths come in short, gasping pants, mirroring his own. I feel like I’ve run a marathon .
Hooking my leg over his arm, Massimo pulls back slightly before thrusting forward, his pace slow and deliberate. I pull in a shuddering breath, the intensity in the air almost suffocating.
Something about this feels so different from any other time we’ve been together. This isn’t about ownership, power, or dominance. This is about him needing me to make him whole .
Through half-lidded eyes, I commit every inch of his face to memory from the thick vein in his neck to the raw emotion flitting through his eyes that I can’t quite name.
He keeps his rhythm slow, yet relentless, building my orgasm from nothing to a symphony in a matter of minutes. My walls pulsate around him, pulling his release from him as my own explodes. Black dots fill my vision but I can’t break the hold his gaze has on me as it shudders through me. Our moans collide, raw and unguarded.
He collapses on top of me, panting before he pulls out and rolls to my side. My hand finds his as I stare at the ceiling. Our fingers lock and I glance at him to see his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling in heaving breaths.
Lifting his hand, I press a kiss to his bruised knuckles before sliding his ring from my thumb onto his ring finger, reclaiming him as mine .