“I’m going to come,” I managed, his cock inside me hitting just the right spot, his fingers rubbing my clit hard; It was all too much: too much feeling, too much sensation, too much him. Hearing his labored breathing, feeling him swell even thicker inside me, it overwhelmed me. Moments later, I came, my cry sounding foreign, Salvatore’s thrusts harder, faster. I felt raw, like he said, but all I wanted was him inside me, on top of me, having me, his fingers working, making me come.

“Fuck.”

It was more of a grunt, and then he stilled, his cock twitching, releasing, filling me. I watched his face from the corner of my eye, his eyes so dark, they were black, and when he stilled, he collapsed on top of me, flattening me to the bed. His cock softened and slowly slid out. A rush of cum spilled over my thighs as he held me there, his face on my back. He undid the cuffs at my wrists before curling one hand possessively over the curve of my hip and kissing me gently at neck and shoulder until my eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep in his arms.

11

Salvatore

Growing up, I’d loved coming to the house in the Adirondacks, but that felt like a hundred years ago. Now, as we neared the property, Lucia sat beside me in the car, everything about her tense. She looked beautiful in the cream-colored dress I’d chosen, her auburn hair piled high on her head, dark eye makeup accenting the almond shape of her whiskey-colored eyes.

I touched her knee as we pulled up to the security gate.

She startled.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll stay with you.”

She nodded, but the tension kept rolling off her.

I hated this. Knew as I waved to the guard and pulled around back to the garage that she was here to be shown around, shown off, a token of my father’s—of my family’s—triumph. I also knew my father had not forgotten what she’d done at the funeral. He would punish her for it, and I had a feeling he’d do it tonight.

I just needed to keep her reined in nice and tight. After parking the car, I climbed out and met Lucia on her side.

“I feel sick.”

I slid her hand inside mine and squeezed. “You’ll be fine. Just breathe.”

We were barely inside the front door when a woman’s voice called out my name. It was Dalia, Roman’s wife.

“Salvatore. There you are. I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight.”

She leaned in, and I kissed her on both cheeks, as expected.

“Dalia,” I said. I never called her Aunt Dalia. It didn’t fit, not when she was only two years older than me. My uncle liked younger women.

She turned eager eyes to Lucia, who stood stiff beside me.