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Defiance rears its head, and I shut the door behind me, crossing my arms over my chest as I start to move toward him instead. “No.”
Salvatore’s eyes widen. He lets go of his cock abruptly, as if he’s only just remembered he was still holding it. “Gia?—”
“Go on.” I motion to his stiff cock. “Since you can’t be bothered to fuck your wife. Let me see how you take care of it yourself.”
Salvatore lets out a shuddering breath, and I see his cock throb visibly. His hand flexes. “Gia?—”
“Good. You remember my name, at least.” I move to one side as he starts to try to go around me, blocking him. “What, you don’t want to finish? Or maybe you want me to take care of it for you.” I reach out, as if to touch his cock, and Salvatore smacks my hand away. As he does, his own hand grazes his stiff length, and he lets out a hissing breath. His fingers wrap around it as if on instinct, and his jaw clenches.
I reach down impulsively, dragging my tank top over my head. I’m not wearing anything under it, and I see the muscle in Salvatore’s jaw leap as his gaze flicks down to my bare breasts. A shiver of desire tingles over my skin, my nipples hardening, and I see his hand tighten around his cock.
“You don’t want my hand, either?” I take a step closer, and he steps back, towards the counter. “Do you want my mouth? I could get on my knees for you, if you want. Wrap my lips around it, run my tongue all over you—” My voice lowers as I speak, teasing, husky, and Salvatore’s gaze darkens. His hand moves, almost as if he doesn’t mean for it to, stroking down his length as his palm rubs over the swollen head, and I see his hips jerk.
“A good mafia wife doesn’t know about any of those things until her husband teaches her,” Salvatore murmurs. His voice has lowered, too, thickening, his accent deeper as his hand convulses around his cock. I’m getting to him, and we both know it. I feel a delicious curl of anticipation in my stomach—tormenting him might be better than sex. It’s better than the sex we had the other night, although maybe not as good as some of the other things we’ve done?—
“You’re supposed to be innocent.” Salvatore’s hand slides along his length again, his gaze flicking to my breasts and back up. “A virgin bride shouldn’t even know what to do with her husband’s cock.”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to make do with your spoiled bride.” I reach up, plucking at my nipples with my fingers, and Salvatore’s lips press together, his hand sliding up and down his length again. I see pre-cum pearling at the tip, dripping over his fingers, and I lick my lips. “You’re going to make a mess,” I pout, blinking innocently at him. “Do you want me to lick it up?”
“For fuck’s sake, Gia—” Salvatore closes his eyes, his hand moving faster. His expression is taut, tortured, as if he wants to stop and can’t. “You are fucking spoiled,” he growls, his eyes opening again, his palm sliding down to rub over his tip again. “Just not in the way you mean. You’re a little brat.” The word comes out on a thick snarl, his voice catching in his throat. “You want to make me feel bad for what I’ve done. Nothing makes me feel worse than this.” He narrows his eyes at me, still stroking. “Looking at you, and wanting to touch you. I’m so fucking hard it hurts, from sleeping next to you all night. And I can’t even fucking get off in peace. I should punish you.” His voice lowers. “Maybe then you’d learn to behave the way a wife should.”
“How is a wife supposed to behave?” I taunt, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t a good wife supposed to make her husband feel good? Take his cock when he needs to come? Isn’t she supposed to pleasure him however he wants?” I hook my fingers in the edge of my shorts, shoving them down my hips along with my panties, and I hear Salvatore’s groan as he watches them fall to the floor. “You could bend me over the sink right now. You’re so hard. I’d feel so good to you, wouldn’t I? It’d feel so good to bury yourself in me while you come?—”
Salvatore lets out a pained sound, and I see his other hand flex, as if he wants to reach for me. He steps back, his hand still clenched around his cock, and I circle around him to the bathroom counter, pushing myself up onto the edge of it. I remember his reaction the first morning I woke up in his bed, when I teased him, and I spread my legs, letting him see every inch of me. I don’t know if it’s him I want or if it’s just the sudden power that I feel that turns me on, but I can feel the heat between my thighs, the slick, dampness of my arousal.
“If you’re so guilty,” I murmur, spreading my legs wider still, “then stop jerking off. Stop right now.”
Salvatore swallows convulsively, his throat tightening as his gaze dips between my thighs. I see his hand stutter on his cock, see the way it throbs in his fist, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps stroking, and I can see the effort that it takes for him to look away from the view of my pussy, open and wet for him.
“You can’t stop,” I mock him, reaching down between my thighs. I’m so wet it startles even me, as I spread my folds open, making sure he can see exactly what he’s missing. “You can’t stop, and you can’t fuck me, so what kind of man are you, Salvatore? One who can’t control himself but can’t fuck his wife?”
I rub my finger over my clit, leaning back with my other hand braced on the counter, and Salvatore groans. The look on his face is pained, his hand squeezing his throbbing cock. “Come fuck your wife,” I purr, rolling my finger over my clit again. “I’m so wet. Don’t you want me all over your cock? Don’t you want to come in me?”
Salvatore snarls, and before I can take a breath, he crosses the space between us to stand between my legs. For one moment, my heart pounds as I think he’s going to thrust into me, that he’s finally going to break. But instead, he keeps stroking, his other hand coming up to grip my chin as he glares into my eyes.
“You are the bane of my existence,” he hisses, his voice choked with lust. “You are a constant torment. You drive me insane, Gia, and all I have ever done is try to protect you. You are a spoiled, ungrateful woman. I continue to protect you, and all you do is try to hurt us both. To break me—” His voice breaks on a moan as his hips thrust into his fist. “You test everything I believe in, and to you, it’s just a game.”
“And you’ve stolen everything from me!” I try to wrench free of his grip, but he’s holding me tight, keeping me there staring into his face as he jerks off an inch from my skin. I can feel the heat wafting off of him, see every clenched muscle in his body. And I can’t seem to stop, either. My fingers are still rubbing frantically over my clit, my own body winding tight, the emotion and lust rising higher by the second as Salvatore leans in. “You took everything, and you won’t give anything back.”
“I won’t allow you to destroy everything I’ve devoted my life to, Gia,” he growls. “You can try all you like, but I can control my own lusts.”
“Interesting you would say that,” I gasp, arching into my hand as I feel my orgasm approaching, “when you’re about to come all over me.”
Salvatore’s eyes squeeze shut, a groan tearing from his lips as his entire body goes rigid. I look down just in time to see his cock swell in his fist, throbbing as cum spurts from the tip, splashing over my belly and up to my breasts as his hips jerk rhythmically. He moans like an animal in pain, his hand on my chin tightening as he fucks into his fist, another spurt of hot cum coating my breasts and triggering my own orgasm.
“Oh, fuck!” I gasp aloud, my back arching as the sensation crashes over me, my hand gripping the counter to hold myself steady as I moan aloud. It feels incredibly good, better than I would have thought, the feeling of the liquid heat splashing over my skin, combined with the sound of Salvatore’s near-feral groan and the forbidden tension of it all heightening my climax to something that feels as if it rips free of my body. I keep rubbing my fingers over my clit, wanting to draw it out, to make it last. I feel Salvatore’s hand drop away from my face, hear his panting breaths, and open my eyes to see him turning his back, looking away from me as he tugs his pants up around his hips.
“It’s unfortunate there’s only one shower in here,” he growls, his voice low and irritated. “But even though it’ll make me late, I’ll be a gentleman and let you go first, Gia.”
And then he turns and stalks out of the bathroom, closing the door hard behind him.
—
A half-hour later, I emerge to find the bedroom empty. I lingered in the shower longer than I probably should have—not out of a desire to make him even more late, but just to get my thoughts in order. I feel more confused and frustrated than ever.
I thought I’d feel more of a sense of satisfaction from “winning” that particular fight. I did win, I think—Salvatore might not have given in and fucked me, but he certainly did something he didn’t mean to do. He wanted to force me to leave while he took care of business himself, alone. I forced him to face up to his fantasies, to look me in the eye while he gave himself the relief he so clearly needed. Not to mention, he lost control enough to come on me, something I’m sure he thought he was too good to do.
But I don’t feel satisfied, or happy, or in control. If anything, I just feel tired, as if the fighting is starting to wear on me, too. As if the entire situation is beginning to wear me down.
