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Salvatore checks his watch as I look in the mirror, admiring the earrings. “We should go. The driver will be here in a minute.” There’s a hint of regret in his voice, and I know he doesn’t want to go any more than I do. But we don’t really have a choice.
There are certain duties that are required of a don, and his wife, and this is one of those—our personal feelings about it aside.
Salvatore threads his fingers through mine as we walk down the stairs, his hand holding mine a little more tightly than usual. My heart beats a little faster, anxious at his possessiveness and a little excited by it, too. It’s a welcome distraction from my tangled thoughts about the ceremony we’re about to sit through, which is raising a multitude of emotions that I don’t want to think about.
It’s impossible not to, though, as we slip into the car. I remember my hopes for my wedding day. I remember how I felt when I was on the verge of walking down the aisle to Pyotr—and how I felt only minutes later, when Salvatore upended my whole world. Now I’m grateful for the choice he made, happy for our life together and all the future promises it holds. However, I can still remember the blind rage I felt that day, and how awful things were shortly after. I remember how I felt about Pyotr, and what I believed he felt for me. I don’t love him any longer, but I still feel the sting of finding out that he never loved me, and I know it will take some time for that to fade.
I’m happier than I ever thought I could be. But with Salvatore’s feelings for me still unspoken, I can’t help but have moments where it’s hard to completely trust in it. And I can’t help but be unsure about how I’ll feel when I see Pyotr, for the first time since I was snatched away from him at the altar.
As if Salvatore can sense my thoughts, his hand moves from mine to my thigh, resting heavily against it. I can feel the heat of his palm through the thin silk, and my breath quickens, my pulse beating faster in my throat.
“What are you thinking about, wife?” he murmurs, the pointed emphasis on the word telling me exactly what he’s thinking.
“Just—getting through the wedding.” The words stick in my throat a little as I say them, not least of which because of the look on his face when I turn to glance at my husband.
There’s a dark, possessive heat in his eyes. His hand slides down my thigh, his fingers dipping beneath the slit in my skirt, pushing the silk up my leg. “What about the wedding?”
I can feel the tension rippling off of him, hot as pavement in the summer. Salvatore’s jaw tightens, and I know he’s thinking about me seeing Pyotr twenty minutes from now, about how I used to feel about him, about everything that’s happened since then. His fingertips graze the inside of my leg, and I gasp.
“Answer me.” Salvatore’s hand slides higher, and my breath catches in my throat.
I can’t answer. I don’t want to tell him that I’m remembering how I felt on my wedding day, sorting through all the complicated feelings then and since, looking forward to the closure that today will give. I don’t want to talk about this at all. I just want this part to be over.
Salvatore moves closer, sliding smoothly across the leather seat until he’s pressed against me. His hand slides up my thigh, to the very edge of it, and I swallow hard.
He reaches up, pressing his palm to my cheek, and turns my head so my face is pressed against the seat, and I’m looking straight at him. His touch is gentle but firm, and I feel the fingertips of his other hand slip between my thighs, sliding over the smooth fabric of my panties.
“I’ll give you something to think about, then,” he murmurs, his lips an inch from mine. “You can think about this, while we’re in this car. You can think about it in the church, while I sit next to you with my hand on your leg. All the way until you walk out of there with me, because you’re my wife, Gia.”
As he says it, his fingers slip under the edge of my panties, delving between my soft folds. I’m already wet, and I gasp, my mouth an inch from his as his fingers slip easily into me, curling inside of my pussy as I clench around him, his thumb pressing against my clit.
His other hand holds my cheek, keeping me facing him, his fingertip brushing my lower lip as he starts to work his fingers inside of me with excruciating slowness.
“I’m going to keep you on the edge, tesoro, just like this,” he whispers, the words ghosting over my mouth. “All the way until we pull up in front of St. Patrick’s. And then you’ll come for me, and we’ll walk in with the scent of you still on my fingertips, and you still pulsing with the orgasm I give you when you see him again for the first time.”
His hand tightens on my face, and his fingers press deeper inside of me, making me moan and gasp. “Understand, tesoro?”
I nod breathlessly, unable to speak. I already feel close to the edge, the sensation of his fingers in me and the driver just on the other side of the divider, along with his husky voice murmuring those words to me, sending me to the very brink of an orgasm. I don’t know how I’ll follow his instructions, how I’ll keep from coming, but as it turns out, I don’t have to worry.
He keeps me on the edge, all the way there, just as he promised. His fingers move in small strokes, keeping me close, until he feels me start to tremble, and then he goes torturously still, literally holding me in the palm of his hand as I quiver around him. Until we feel the car start to slow, and Salvatore suddenly starts to thrust his fingers hard, his thumb moving rapidly over my clit as he leans in to whisper in my ear.
“Come for me, Gia. My good little wife.”
The orgasm breaks over me like a wave. My mouth opens on a cry of pleasure, only for the sound to be swallowed up as Salvatore kisses me hard, his tongue sweeping possessively into my mouth as I come on his fingers.
When he slips his hand free from my skirt, tugging it down neatly with his other hand, I’m flushed and shaking. The car rolls to a stop, and I put my hands to my cheeks, willing my heartbeat and breathing to return to normal. I see Salvatore adjust himself, pressing down on his obvious erection with the heel of his hand, and I have the sudden urge to lean over, unzip his suit trousers and take him in my mouth until he floods my tongue with his cum.
Instead, I stare at him as he waits a beat, and then another, before taking a deep breath and opening his door as if nothing out of the ordinary happened at all.
He walks around as I try to compose myself, opening my door, and holding out his hand to help me to the curb. His eyes meet mine, as calm as if I didn’t just come all over the hand he’s holding out to me seconds ago, and my heart flutters in my chest.
“You’re mine, Gia,” he whispers in my ear as I slip out of the car, and I turn towards him, my lips an inch from his.
“Always,” I whisper back.
I feel him relax, just a little. And I feel a new confidence that we can get through this day, so long as we’re together.
He needed a little reassurance. And I will, too, I’m sure, before the day is over.
