1. Genoveva
Chapter 1
Genoveva
The moon hangs high, a pale ghost of the late night. I stand beside the bed in a lace negligee, bought just for tonight and Gianni’s eyes rake over my figure in hungry appreciation as I slide in next to him, my fingers instinctively tracing the planes of his face. While he’s as tired as he is now, the hard lines soften. No furrowed brow, no clenched jaw. Just peace.
My mind drifts to all that’s happened tonight—our twelfth anniversary. The memory shimmers fresh like candlelight. The grand hall had truly transformed into something magical: violinists all around, chiming laughter, arctic ice sculptures, a dance floor always full, delicate canapés being passed around on silver trays held in white gloves and hundreds of hugs and kisses.
"To us," Gianni had said towards the beginning of the end of the night, raising his glass. Crystals clinked all around. His eyes, usually sharp as a blade, were warm. Tender. Set only on me.
I'd smiled, basking in his gaze. "To us."
The room had fallen silent. All eyes on us. I could feel their envy, their awe. He was the most powerful man in the city, and he was mine.
Now, in the quiet of our bedroom, I trace the scar on Gianni's cheek. A reminder of darker days that follow us in cycles, given our station in life. It’s not easy on him, heading one of the most powerful mafia factions in the world. He’s the don, but in bed, he’s my gentle giant.
He props an elbow and turns to watch me, his fingers casting lazy patterns on my thighs, carving over my ass to get a handful of what’s his. "Genoveva? How is it you’re so impossibly sexy?"
"Shh," I whisper. "I’m just taking it all in."
Gianni pulls me close, one hand strong on my ass, the other beneath my neck. "Tonight," he murmurs against my hair. "You were breathtaking."
I laugh softly. "You clean up pretty well yourself, Don Montagna."
His chest rumbles with a chuckle. Then, serious: "I saw how they looked at you. Like you were a queen."
"And you my king," I tease, but my heart swells. How can it not when I know he speaks the truth? Gianni is my anchor, the one who tethers me to all that’s good in this world.
Right now, as I watch him in the moonlight, I see that perfect, sculpted torso, and my heart races like a teenager’s. He’s the only man I’ve been with, and he’s more than any I’ve ever met.
He leans closer, taking his thumb and forefinger to bring my chin closer to his. His eyes rake into mine for a moment before gliding down to my lips, which are already parted in anticipation.
“After all these years,” he moans, “you still make me feel wild.”
With that, he takes my lips against his. His lips are rough but soften through the kiss. He slides one hand to my ass, pulling me closer, setting my very skin on fire.
“It’s illegal what you make a woman feel,” I murmur, biting into his lower lip. I sense his smile, and he parts his lips, warring his tongue against mine. Slowly, sleep becomes a foreign concept, and I feel as alive as a bird fluttering through the sky.
My hands find their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against my fingertips. The room around us fades away, leaving only the sound of our mingled breaths.
Gianni suddenly places his hands on my hips and flips my body down, roughly positioning me beneath him, his knees enveloping my body between his. It feels delicious; his weight above me, and how quick he moved to get me under him reminds me of a hunter on the prowl, of a man who knows what he wants. His hands reach for mine, pulling them up above my head, while his eyes devour the way I arch.
He leans down, his lips just inches away from mine. I tilt my head up for more, but he shakes his head slowly, his black raven eyes smoldering a hole through my very soul. All these years, and it still feels like the first time.
"I'd burn this city to the ground for you, Genoveva. You know that, right?"
I nod, a shiver running down my spine. It's not an idle threat. It's a vow.
“I know,” I whisper. “But I hope it doesn’t ever come to that.”
He gives me a small, wry smile and nuzzles his head into my neck, gently sucking and biting into it. A slow, warm thrill begins to form. He pushes both my hands under one of his and takes his other to slide it up my camisole.
I shiver when he traces a line up my inner thighs, each bristle making me shiver, turning that slow thrill into full-on fever.
"Gianni," I gasped, my voice ragged with pleasure and lust.
"I know what you want, Genoveva," he whispers, playing with the delicate skin up the corner of my thigh. "And I'm going to give it to you."
“In this lifetime, hopefully,” I roll my eyes.
He grins and cuts me off from saying anything further by kissing me so damn ferociously that I nearly forget how to breathe. I’m so lost in the sensation of his lips against mine that when the feel of his cold finger entering my wet folds catches me off guard. I freeze with a moan, and he whispers, "Open for me, my sweet Genoveva," into my ear. I shudder under his touch, his finger sliding easily inside me.
His other hand grips around my other wrists, both of his hands now busy – one giving me pleasure, the other making me his.
“Gianni,” I gasp again, not from pain but from the very bliss I feel.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls in my ear, sending shivers coursing through my body.
He continues to pump his finger into me, gradually increasing the pace, his finger sliding in and out of me with a rhythm so precise, so beautiful that it’s a shame other women can’t feel what I feel. With each stroke, I match his pace with my hips, feeling more and more primed for him.
"Gods above," I moan, "I need more."
"Do you?" He looms over me like a violent storm brewing on the horizon, trying to keep itself in check.
He lets go of my wrists and crawls down between my legs, gripping my thighs to part them as wide as he can. He looks up just once, and gives me that devilish grin before using his tongue to give me one long lick before settling on my clit.
The heat, the cold, his tongue, his fingers, all intermesh to deliver a cocktail of highs I can’t fathom. I close my eyes and clutch the sheets, letting go of all hold to reality, and he pushes a finger into me, curving it into a C, his tongue flicking my clit.
“Fuck,” I scream when he taps his finger on the spot he’s come to learn gets me best.
I moan his name, arching my back in ecstasy, my vagina clenching around his finger as he continues to drive me to the edge. His other hand reaches up to play with my nipples, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.
His tongue flicks, and fingers tease me relentlessly, and all my focus is thrown on a small point in my body, where a nucleus of energy begins to form, ready to blow over. I close my eyes, and my breath hitches. In the darkness, I see speckles of light begin to form as my body prepares to shut down and erupt all at once.
“Oh god,” I cry out, clenching my fists through his hair, “Don’t stop.”
My husband knows exactly what I need and gives it to me without hesitation, his tongue dancing with a frantic rhythm that seems to match the pounding of my heart.
I feel like I’m about to be torn apart, and when he pulls his finger out and slams it back in curved just right, I do. That small ball of energy travels through my entire body, forcing me to clench my toes to just stay in place. I lurch off the bed, clutching at the sheets, and scream his name as the orgasm rips through me.
My vagina clenches against his fingers as he patiently waits for me to ride out my high. I come down from the peak and open my eyes to find him looking up at me, his own eyes filled with a fierce satisfaction of having pleased me.
The heavy panting fills the room, and he grins as he grips my thighs tighter.
"Mi amore," he murmurs, kissing my inner thigh before positioning himself between me. "Non abbiamo ancora finito." - We aren’t done yet.
“Meno Male!” - Thank goodness for that - I break into a sultry smile, and my gaze falls to his perfect torso, towering over me. Even at 34, he’s got the body to make any woman go wild. I curve my hands around his neck, clawing at him almost as I draw him in.
He positions himself, his warm length pressing against my entrance, flicking against me with a teasing promise.
"Gianni," I murmur his name, a plea in my voice.
He meets my pleading gaze for a moment and then buries himself inside me in one smooth motion. I gasp, the sensation of him filling me completely overwhelming. I'm his body and soul, and this moment reminds me of that.
His eyes meet mine again, and there's an animalistic hunger in them. His thrusts are slow at first, building up a rhythm, and then our bodies begin to slap together; he moves faster, deeper, harder.
With each slam, my body rises further up the bed, and I meet his gaze with ferocious intent for more, my eyes wide with desperation. I match his frenzied rhythm by lifting my hips at each thrust, our bodies becoming a perfect match.
His hands grip my waist, and he ravages me, our hips slapping against each other.
“Gianni,” I moan, throwing back my head when he hits a particularly spectacular spot.
"Dio mio," Gianni growls, his eyes glittering with hunger, his gaze never straying from mine. "You are mine, Genoveva."
“Yours,” I whisper. “All yours.”
The next thing I know, he throws my legs over his shoulders, pushing my back further into the bed. I close my eyes and clutch the sheets, the sweat gleaming on my skin, and feel his cock hit me further up if that even was possible.
His thrusts become relentless, his body demanding control, pushing deeper and harder into me with every slam. The bed groans beneath us as pleasure courses through me in a wave.
I feel him claim me, and when I open his eyes, I see his frame towering over me, so damn powerful that I could orgasm on the sight alone. I feel the intensity building, just from how handsome he looks with those sculpted arms now holding my waist, and when he tells me I’m the sexiest woman alive , his words stoke a fire within.
My hands grip tight around his back, my nails digging into his skin as the orgasm begins to build once again.
“Oh my god, I’m going to come, Gianni,” I whimper, my voice ragged.
He commands my call, thrusting harder, the bed shaking beneath us now. He locks his eyes on mine. “Genoveva!” he growls, the sound of my name on his sweet lips lifting me to new heights of ecstasy.
With a cry, I crest the wave of pleasure, my body writhing beneath him as he brings me to the edge. I'm lost in the frenzy, my heart pounding wildly with every thrust - each one like a shot of pure bliss. My orgasm overflows like wine into every nerve and vein, knocking the wind out of my lungs, closing down every system such that I think I might drown in it.
Gianni groans, his face twisting with ecstasy, and then I feel him throb, erupting within me, making us one.
We lie entwined, sweat cooling on our skin. The room is quiet, save for our soft breathing. Gianni pulls me closer, his muscular arm snaking around my waist. His chest rumbles against my back as he speaks.
"Ti amo, mia regina," he whispers, his gravelly voice sending shivers down my spine. "You are my heart, my soul."
I nestle deeper into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his body. "I know," I murmur, a smile playing on my lips.
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my hip. "Do you now?"
I turn to face him, meeting his intense gaze. "I've always known, Gianni. Even when we were kids."
“From friendship to life partners,” he smiles, gently squeezing my hand as his eyes drift to another time. Since we got married, we’ve ruled together, side by side, and our lives have become one in every sense of the word. In a world where women don’t know when the sun rises and where the moon sets, he made me his sounding board.
I reach out and trace that perfect jawline, bringing him back to the present. He shakes his head as though exiting a trance, and his eyes fall to the gorgeous six-carat emerald adorning my finger—a gift from yesterday.
Its brilliance catches the first rays of dawn, casting tiny green flecks across Gianni's chest. I twist it, feeling its weight, the cool metal a stark contrast to my flushed skin.
"You outdid yourself with this," I murmur, admiring how it sparkles.
“Only the best for my queen,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead drowsily.
I, too, feel the exhaustion. I lay down now on my side of the bed, but he takes my hand in his. The last thing I see before I fall asleep is him eyeing the ring with a smile on his finger, carefully brushing it over and over again.
And then, we fall asleep, our hands intertwined, one soul, two bodies.