Chapter 22
ETTORE
I sigh tiredly, aware that my two worlds are about to crash together again. There was that issue with the scum a few weeks ago, kidnapping a sex worker and selling cocaine on our routes. Now this.
“What were you going to do with that woman?” I snarl, tipping the man’s head with the barrel of my gun and staring into his terrified eyes.
“Scared for her life, scared for her baby’s life.
There’s a darkness in this path we’ve chosen, but you let it spread to a twisted, pathetic, cowardly shadow. That’s unacceptable.”
He sputters, blood leaking from his face. I feel Mark watching from the shadows behind me.
“You might be wondering why we handle this ourselves,” I growl.
“And this is why. It keeps the raw reality of what we have to do at the forefront of our minds. We’re always aware, when we give an order, exactly what we’re commanding.
It’s Hell, Ugo. Sometimes, I wield it with a fucking smile on my face. ”
I backhand him across the jaw. His bones make a loud crunching noise as the chair hits the ground. Mark walks out of the shadows, picks the chair up, then retreats.
“Someone killed your friend, Piero, and branded him a rat. And your boss was very keen to get rid of Dante.”
Ugo starts to sputter.
“I know that look,” I tell him. “You’re wondering what Ruggero will do if he discovers you’ve talked.
Or maybe even the little prince, Bastian.
But just think. The cops called me when they discovered what you did.
We hold sway in this city. Ruggero thinks we’re weak because we don’t act like wild dogs, but that only goes so far. Speak.”
He coughs up blood, drool sliding from his mouth.
“The jewelry store hit… was… Bastian’s… idea.” He wheezes. “He… wanted… to… provoke… you.”
“The prince, then,” I murmur, thinking of the slick bastard. He’s always believed he’s smarter than he is. “Did his father know?”
“Boss,” Mark says from behind me.
I turn and retreat into the shadows. Mark leans in and whispers something in my ear.
He tells me he’s just been on the phone with our contact in the police department.
He tells me there’s evidence of… bad shit the pregnant woman went through.
She wasn’t just a hostage. It’s a miracle she hasn’t lost her baby.
Turning, I slip my hand into my pocket and grip my knuckle duster.
Something in my demeanor must’ve changed. Ugo’s eyes have gone wide and now he’s staring up at me like I’m a demon in human form. Barely human, at this point.
“Ruggero found out after.” Ugo gasps. “He was cleaning up his nephew’s mess.
Bastian just wanted…” Ugo wheezes, sucking in panicked breaths, this monster who’d use an innocent pregnant woman for his own twisted ends.
“Bastian wants an alliance. It’s good for everyone.
You and Vera—that was good, Mr. Bellandi.
Bastian just wants you, or your little girl… ”
“He wants my little girl?” I snarl.
“She’s almost a woman.”
He says this with complete sincerity, with no inkling that anything is wrong with it. Mark’s whispered information signed his death warrant. This just made it painful.
I go about my work, blood splattering, hand pulsing, metal grip biting into my hand.
With each punch, I see beautiful scenes from my other world.
My daughter spinning through the garden.
Livia watching with a smile on her face.
Mara knitting, looking up, with that twinkle in her eye. All while I beat a man to death.
Showered and changed, I sit at my desk, drumming my fingers against it.
When my assistant announces that Mara is here, I almost tell her to turn her away.
I’ve got that shadow hanging over me. Ruggero and Bastian want my kid.
They’ve practically declared war. I need to discover a way to finish this…
or should I hope the idiots have learned their lesson?
Mara pushes into the office, sassy and devastatingly beautiful. Her hair is down, straightened with careful effort. Her cheeks are flushed. She’s wearing one of those lightly flirty summer dresses that settles on her curvy features like a fine mist.
I walk around the desk and gently take her shoulders in my hands. She pushes against me, pressing against my chest. Suddenly it’s like the rage inside me becomes a different kind of heat.
The ugly images melt away, and it’s just us in this office at the top of the world, where nobody can see us because of the one-way glass. People might think I’m paranoid, but I’ve never doubted my enemies would go so far as to use a sniper.
She looks adorably shocked when I lean in for a kiss. Her scowl turns into a smile automatically. I crush her with my lips, pulling her tightly against me. The relief is instant, like I’ve been aching since the recital, since before, trying to keep my distance.
Moans escape through the fusion of our lips. My hands glide to her waist, and I lift her up. When she wraps her legs around me, her dress hikes up and I feel her bare thighs, the soft perfection of her body.
She kisses me harder, faster, like she’s trying to drown in me so she doesn’t have to think about the reason she came here. I carry her to my desk, the kissing never stopping. We’re both unhinged. I feel it in us both, this need to let go, to just stop thinking, stop hesitating.
She leans back, pouting beautifully at me.
“I didn’t come here for this,” she whimpers.
“I’ve had this office for ten years. People here don’t know what I do…
but they’re not ignorant either. They know not to interrupt me here.
And they never have. See those windows?” I nod at the windows overlooking the city.
“No one can see in here. They dim the light, give me privacy… make it harder for people to hit me.”
She swallows. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know,” I snarl, truly lost now. I’ve gone wild and I don’t give a fuck. I kiss down her neck, then over her cleavage. “No one is interrupting us.”
“Ettore,” she sighs.
I fall to my knees in front of my desk. My manhood is pushing against my pants, my tip leaking and throbbing. She grabs my wrists when I grip her thighs and looks down at me with that same ball-aching pout.
“Tell me to stop,” I snarl. “But do it now before I taste your perfect pussy. From the first moment I saw you, I wanted to know what you tasted like. Wanted to know the shape of your clit. Wanted to feel you vibrate against my face when I fucking consume you. So, do it. Tell me to stop. Now.”
She’s shaking lightly. “I’m not some crazy sex addict,” she whimpers.
“I haven’t been with a woman in years,” I snarl. “But you’re different. Now, make your decision.”
“Ohmyfuckinggod…”
It all comes out as one word as she gives herself to me, letting her hands fall aside. I grip her underwear and pull it down, staring in awe at her. Keeping one hand on her leg, I brush my thumb over her clit, registering the way her legs tremble at the contact.
Her moan has a shocked quality, like she can’t believe how good it feels. There’s something so hot about that.
As I gently strum her clit, I kiss up her thigh. Her smell—fuck. It’s breaking me. The pure primality of it. Her tangy, tempting scent. It fills me up. By the time I’ve kissed my way to her core, I can’t be civilized anymore.
I slide my finger to her entrance and push inside. Oh, and she’s wet already, not dripping for me, not yet. But wet enough for me to know she’s aching for this as badly as I am.
My mouth goes to her clit, sucking it greedily, weeks of pent-up pressure exploding. Nothing else enters my mind. I’m not a mob boss with my Mara. Just a starving man finally given license to feast.
She moans and rolls her hips as I begin to slip my finger in and out, sucking and tonguing her clit at the same time.
Her hands claw at the desk. I find a faster rhythm, my balls swelling when I hear the wet sounds of her tunnel.
She clamps around my fingers, then starts to flutter when I flicker my tongue faster against her clit.
“Ettore.” She clenches up. “Ett—Ett—Ett…”
I want to tell her, Soak my fucking face with your juices. Drench me with your lust. But there’s no way I’m stopping long enough to speak. I keep lashing instead, owning that needy nub, then slipping another finger into her clinging core.
When she breaks, I suck her clit again, applying intense pressure. She digs her fingernails into my head, grinding her entire groin up and down my face. I love it. Her tasty juices all over me.
I stand as she lies back on the desk. My dick judders when she pulls the front of her dress down without me needing to say anything.
“Wedge that bra under your plump tits,” I tell her.
She moans, then pulls it down. Oh, fuck. Her tits are naked and pushed up, red from her lust, her nipples full and swollen. I lean over her, greedily sucking her lips, swirling my tongue around.
I stand and pull my pants and underwear down, gripping her thighs and pulling her toward me as I line up.
“Are we going to regret this?” she whimpers.
“No,” I growl, then I push into her aching slit.
She gasps and stares up at me. The look on her face is sexier than her thick, curvy body on display, thighs glimmering with her juices. The look—the slight smile, the sassy challenge, the shock at how big I am.
I begin to drive in. She pushes against my chest, whimpering. “Fuck, fuck, Ettore.”
“Can you take it?” I growl.
“It’s—bigger—than…”
I slip out slowly. “Don’t compare us to anyone,” I groan, holding myself at her entrance again. “I’ll work in slowly.”
She bites her lip, nodding. For a few minutes, I push halfway in, feeling her stretch around me with each thrust. She clings to me like she doesn’t want to let me go. I’m attuned to her body, feeling the shift in her body, the flow into her pussy as she relaxes and loosens just enough.
“You can take more now,” I tell her, showing her by pushing in.
Her face lights up in relief. “Hmm.”
“And more?”
She nods, making that same noise again. I’m already, right on the edge. There’s nowhere to look that’s going to calm me down. Her face, delighted, excited, filthy, beautiful, and hungry all at once. Her tits and those fucking suckable nipples… or down, at my cock disappearing into her raw pussy.
I push all the way in, gasping and collapsing against her when I feel her tightness clutching my dick.
“You’ve got a perfect pussy,” I growl. “So hot. So fucking good at squeezing me.”
“You’re—filling—me—up,” she whimpers.
I lean back again, then start pumping my hips, my hand greedily squeezing big handfuls of her thick body to pull her against me. She arches her back, pushing down against me.
I pull out, looking down at my dick stretching her out, slowly leaving that warm, flawless place. I’m in heaven, no hell here, pure light and heat and knowing this is right even if we’ve spent so long pretending the opposite.
She moans and takes one of my hands, guiding it to her breasts, pushing down to add to the pressure. I follow her lead as I fill her again, pushing all the way to the hilt. We’re trying to be quiet, but the desk is whining, and her moans are addictive.
My thrusts turn fast now I’ve got her perfect breasts to hold, her thickness, those nipples so hard and needy against my palm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groan.
“You can’t come in me,” she whimpers.
“I’m coming on those perfect tits.”
“Oh, fuck, Ettore. Yes. Yes.”
“All over those tits and watching them drip with my come,” I groan. “Snap a fucking photo and jerk off to it every—fucking—night—”
My thrusts turn so powerful her body starts to sway perfectly for me, all her curviness on full display. My dick is growing hot, shaft during with desire. Her hands fall aside, and she starts clawing at the desk as if for purchase.
When I feel her pussy clenching around me, I try to breathe slowly, remembering what she said. I need to save my come for those round gorgeous tits. She bounces up and down against me, riding my shaft, pressing and caressing my cock with her tunnel.
I don’t know how I don’t blow until she’s finished, but then it’s suddenly rushing at me.
“Fuck,” I groan, pulling out, jerking my cock hard.
“My tits,” she whimpers.
“No—time,” I gasp.
“Where?”
“Anywhere on your perfect body.”
My cock explodes all over her groin, but not inside her, dripping down her lips and beading in her asshole. She sits up, looking around the desk. I quickly grab a box of tissues and hand them to her.
“I’m shot, Mara,” I snarl, my hand still on my cock.
“What—you regret it?”
I’m stroking my hand up and down, feeling that tingle of lust already.
“No. I could fuck you again in a couple of minutes. Watching you wipe up that pussy has got me weak.”
She moans softly as she cleans up, then drops the tissue and stands so that her dress covers her. She quickly pulls up her bra.
“Get dressed,” she murmurs.
I stumble toward her, my pants trying to trip me up.
She holds her hand out. “Do I need to text you to tell you? Will that make it easier? Please, Ettore.”
I close my eyes. Breathe slow.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Calming myself down before I take you again, harder this time. Until you’re drenching my cock with your release. Give me a second.”