13. Luca
Luca
Giada stands between my knees with both palms against my lapels. “I still want what I asked for.”
I close my hands around her wrists. Her skin is warm. Her pulse beats fast beneath my thumbs, but the rest of her body stays loose.
“You left a crowded ballroom less than an hour ago.”
“Yes.”
“You were overwhelmed.”
“I’m not overwhelmed now.”
I hold her where she is. “You don’t owe me sex for taking you home.”
“Yes.”
“This isn’t an apology for leaving.”
“I already told you I’m not apologizing.” Her brows pull together. “Do you need me to list my reasons again?”
“No.” I release her wrists and rise. “I need to be certain.”
“Ask me what I choose.”
The correction lands cleanly. I deserve it.
“What do you choose?”
“I choose to have sex with you. All of it. I want your penis inside me, and I want to sleep in your bed afterward.”
My restraint narrows to a single choice: trust her answer. I put one hand on her waist and warn her before the other closes around the back of her neck. “We’re going upstairs.”
“Good.”
I kiss her. She opens under my mouth, tasting of Earl Grey and sugar. My hold tightens when she presses her body against mine.
“Harder,” she says.
I take her mouth harder. She pulls at my jacket until I strip it off and leave it across the chair. Her fingers go to my shirt buttons.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
She opens them with care that tests what remains of my restraint. At the last button, she spreads both palms across my bare skin.
“Your heart is fast.”
“My wife is undressing me.”
“You’ve had other women undress you.”
“None of them were you.”
I take her upstairs with my arm firm around her waist. At my bedroom door, I stop.
“Do you want the ceiling fixture on?”
“The bedside lamp. Not the ceiling fixture.”
I switch on the lamp and close the door. She looks across the dark wood, gray sheets, and the bare nightstands. Nothing in this room belongs to her.
That changes tonight. I stand behind her and rest my hands on her hips. “I’m going to take off your shirt.”
“Yes.”
I pull the blue tardigrade shirt over her head. She isn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples tighten beneath my palms when I cup her breasts.
“More pressure,” she tells me.
I squeeze. Her head rests against my shoulder while I pinch one nipple, then the other.
“Again.”
I give her what she asks for until her hips move against mine. My cock strains against my trousers.
She turns in my arms and reaches for my belt. “All of you this time.”
“All of me.”
We undress each other beside the bed. Her thick socks remain. I leave them without comment and take a condom from the nightstand.
“That prevents pregnancy,” she says.
“Yes. Do you want me to use it?”
“Yes.”
I set it beside the lamp and guide her onto the mattress. Her hair spreads across my pillow. This bed has held women before her. None mattered once the door closed.
Giada matters everywhere.
I kneel between her legs. “I’m going to open your thighs with firm pressure.”
“Yes.”
My palms press her knees apart. She is already wet. I stroke her pussy, keeping my touch firm and direct.
“More,” she says.
Two fingers enter her. Her body closes tight around them.
“Does that hurt?”
“No. Curl them toward the front.”
I obey. Her hips lift from the bed.
“There.” She grips the sheets. “Keep doing that.”
I work her until her wetness coats my hand and her legs open wider for me. When I lower my mouth, I tell her before my tongue touches her clit.
“Firm,” she says.
I hold her hips against the mattress and use the rhythm she taught me. Each blunt instruction drives my cock against my stomach. Faster. Higher. Don’t change it.
Her thighs tighten around me. She comes with my name breaking from her mouth.
I climb over her and kiss her while her body relaxes beneath mine. “Do you want to continue?”
“Yes.” Her hand closes around my cock. “I want this.”
I reach for the condom and roll it on. “There may be pain when I enter you. Tell me to stop, and I stop. Tell me slower, and I slow down. You can correct me at any point.”
“I will.”
I position myself at her entrance. “I’m going to push in now.”
“Do it.”
The head of my cock enters her. Her fingers close hard around my shoulders.
I stop. “Pain?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me out?”
“No. Stay there.”
I hold still. Her body loosens around me a fraction.
“Slower,” she says.
I press deeper by careful inches. Her nails dig into my skin. Sweat gathers along my spine while I force my hips to obey her pace.
“More.” I give her more.
Her face tightens, then eases when I settle fully inside her. Every part of me demands movement. I remain buried to the root and wait.
“You’re inside me,” she says.
“Yes.”
“I like the pressure.” She moves her hips beneath mine. “Move.”
I withdraw halfway and enter her again. “Harder.”
“You were in pain.”
“I’m not now. Harder, Luca.”
I thrust harder. Her mouth opens on a broken sound, and her legs lock around my hips.
“Good?”
“Yes. Again.”
I give it to her again. The bed strikes the wall as I fuck her with the force she requests. She takes me, directs me, and corrects my angle with one palm against my hip.
“You’re my husband,” she says.
Her claim breaks my restraint.
“And you’re mine.” I pin her wrists beside her head. “Tell me if you want them free.”
“Keep holding me.”
I drive into my wife. Hard. Deep. Possession burns through every stroke, but her answers rule me. When she asks for slower, I drag my cock through her in long strokes. When she says more, I give her everything I have.
“My husband,” she says again.
“Your husband. Your bed. Your home.” I release one wrist and press my fingers to her clit. “Come around my cock, wife.”
Her body clamps around me. She cries out and pulls me down with her free hand. My control dies under the pressure of her pussy and the sound of her claiming me.
I thrust deep and come. For several seconds, I remain over her with my face against the pillow. Her fingers move across my back, tracing the marks she left.
“That was better than the pornography,” she says.
A laugh tears out of me. “A remarkable endorsement.”
“It was also better than your mouth.”
“Now you’re trying to flatter me.”
“No. I’m comparing the experiences.”
“Of course you are.”
I dispose of the condom, bring a warm cloth from the bathroom, and tell her before I clean the blood and wetness from between her thighs. She keeps her attention on my face the whole time.
“Do you regret it?” I ask.
“No.” Her fingertips touch my cheek. “Do you?”
“Never.”
I pull her against me beneath the covers, her head on my shoulder and one leg across mine. Her blue shirt lies on my floor. Her socks remain on her feet. Her tea cup waits downstairs beside the folded plan from the gala.
Every sign of her has entered my ordered life and made it worth returning to. I don’t want her across the hall tomorrow night. I don’t want her across a room if I can put my hands on her. The marriage Dante ordered has become the fixed point around which everything else moves.
Giada presses her lips to my shoulder. Her gaze stays on my face, open and intent. Her fingertips trace my cheek, but she doesn’t speak.
The language for mine refuses to come. I tighten my arm around her. “You belong in this bed.”
“Every night?”
“Every night you choose to be here.”
“I choose it tonight.”
“Sleep.”
My phone vibrates on the nightstand after her breathing evens. A message from Dario fills the screen.
Antonio secured. Alive. Basement room prepared.
I answer with one instruction: No contact with Giada. The external doors are locked. Guards control every entrance. Her father is below us, bound and unable to reach her.
My wife remains asleep against my side. I put the phone down and hold her closer.
Morning brings a gray wash through the curtains and Giada’s bare body curled beneath my sheet. I leave her sleeping long enough to shower and pull on trousers. Her shirt waits at the foot of the bed. I fold it and place it on the chair before I step into the hall.
Dante arrives before breakfast. I take him into my office and leave the door partly open so I’ll catch any movement upstairs.
“Antonio hasn’t given us Giuseppe,” he says.
“He will.”
“Three more families broke with the Lombardis after last night. The story has already moved through half the city.” Dante sits across from my desk.
A floorboard sounds in the hall.
Dante continues before I turn toward it. “So tell me. Did your strategic marriage accomplish what we needed?”