Page 25 of The Mafia’s Fiancee

I set her down to stand in the bathroom, then I reached in to turn the faucets on. She wasn’t patient to wait, and as I stood upright again, she tugged at the waistband of my sweatpants. I wasn’t too far behind her, ripping off her clothes and getting her naked. Her fingers were deft and quick, and I loved how determined she was to get me bare too.

Picking her up again, I moved toward the shower. Her sharp inhale of pain made me pause.

“What?” I licked my lips and panted. I was exhausted. I needed sleep, but not without reconnecting with this woman who owned my heart. “Did I hurt you?” I lifted my hands from her hips, turning her a bit. A plethora of reds and purples smeared in a wide circle high on the back of her thigh, practically at her ass cheek.

“He kicked me there,” she explained before pulling my head down for a kiss.

He’s dead. I didn’t care if he was a mafia boss and I was the son of his rival. I was Emma’s fiancé. I was her man, her protector, and I would avenge her, regardless of who it was.

Here and now, though, it wasn’t a time to plot murders or plan on revenge.

It was time for the opposite—to let our bodies dictate what we wanted, which was a deep connection. A reunion and celebration that we were alive and together again.

She eased into my hold so she didn’t hiss in pain. I carried her into the shower, wetting us both. Her lips didn’t leave mine. My hands stayed firm on her ass.

Our skin was slick and slippery from the water. I felt grimy and filthy. Ragged, and bloody, sweaty, too. She didn’t care. She didn’t make a single move to get out of my hold and insist that we clean ourselves.

It could come later. I was possessed, under a spell to sink my dick deep inside her. It wasn’t right to be this possessive of her, but I was beholden to this desire.

We didn’t try to initiate any foreplay. The need I had for her too was too demanding, too gritty.

I felt the slickness of her cream against the root of my dick. It was hard, long and stiff as it slid beneath her, so close to that sweet, tight pussy that would always belong to me, no one else.

Pressing her against the shower stall, I gave her a balance and support. She leaned back, giving me room to position my cock at her wet hole.

Then I drove in. I didn’t wait. I didn’t stall. I thrust into her like I’d combust if I didn’t.

She cried out at the sudden intrusion, but she didn’t protest. She was wet, so ready and eager to take me deep inside. It was a shock to the system, wedging every inch of my shaft into her greedy pussy that sucked me in tight. But I overrode it. Inside her like this, I was a goner.

I pulled out and slammed in again. Harder. Faster. I fucked her so roughly, so brutally, that her breasts jiggled and swayed. Her legs hung heavy, wrapped slightly around my waist. I held her ass and with her upper body leaning against the wall, I had a perfect angle to hold on to her ass and pull those firm but juicy cheeks toward me.

Ramming into her hard and fast like this was different than the little we’d shared in the bedroom so far. But she took it. She came too soon, squeezing on my dick as her orgasm hit her. Her legs shook, pushing against mine, and with that sexy gasp that left her lips, I growled and pounded into her faster, rubbing upward to really get all I could out of the friction. It prolonged her orgasm, taunting her to cry out again.

At that sweet sound, I lost it. I shot my cum inside her, tensing at the euphoria that cut through me.

“I love you,” she uttered, out of breath and looking dizzy with satisfaction and relief from coming so hard.

I sighed, hearing the ultimate music to my ears. I would never tire of hearing her say those three all-important words. “I love you so fucking much, Emma.” Kissing her once, I showed her the depth of my affection. I shivered as she slid her arms over my shoulders. The slow caress of her soft skin over mine sent goosebumps breaking out. It felt good, like a tender caress of aftercare.

This time was brutal and fast. Next time... I’d treasure her and show her all the tender caresses of aftercare I would give her.

I rested my brow against hers. The shower rained down, and with the thrum of the drops pelting on the floor and the walls, I fell into a deep state of serenity.

All would be well in my life if I kept her with me, limp and sated, sleepily sighing and so in love. This was my peace. She had become my reason to live.

But I had a hunch that keeping her at my side might be the biggest challenge I’d ever faced.