41. Gigi

41

GIGI

This, angel, is making love.

Those words… The way he said them…

I'm caving in. Against all the logic in my brain, my heart has been holding the trump card all along. I know once I go there with him, going back to Italy will be impossible. This man has managed to crawl into my heart, and I don't want any distance between us. I want to stay. I want to be his. I want this marriage to be real.

God. I've craved this. I've craved him from the first moment in Cannes. I've never experienced this level of intimacy before. Steph is staring into my eyes as I ride his cock, and there's no end goal for now except to be connected. He's making love to me with his hands as they ghost and skim over my body, over my back, across my sides, down to my thighs. He licks my nipples, sucks, and turns his tongue over the hardened peaks and then lets his fingers slide over them as if he's teasing my clit.

Every touch drives my desire and need to bursting point, but I don't want to come. Not yet. I don't want this to stop. I pause to keep my orgasm from crashing in and lean into him, my breathing strained. He wraps his arms around me, and our lips connect. Our kisses are slow and seemingly drunk as we dip and dance our tongues with each other. He grinds into me, and I'm so full of him, so full of love, I feel stretched to the brim.

"Hold still, Steph," I breathe. "I'm so close."

"You're a little cock tease, aren't you, my angel?" he murmurs against my mouth.

"I just want to hold on to this moment."

His hands drive underneath my ass, and he heaves me up, ripping us apart with a pop as his cock jumps free. "You liked being edged? I'll fucking edge you until you beg for it."

He drops me to the sofa and stands, staring down at me and my splayed legs, at my wet sex that wants to pulse with release. His cock bobs in front of me, and I reach for it, but he catches my hand.

"Hold on, angel," he says as he steers my hand to grip the sofa's arm rest, guiding the other hand there, as well. My one leg dangles to the floor, but he takes the other and hooks it over the backrest.

I have no idea what he's going to do next, but when he traces a line from the fold of my knee to my sex, tremors run through me. He dips two fingers into my pussy, catches my g-spot, pulls out, and repeats the motion until I'm so slick, my wet heat sounds with each thrust. At the last second, he removes his fingers, leaving me retreating again from a release that just seems to keep on building.

"Fuck," he grunts as he fists the base of his shaft and jerks at his cock while he stares at me. "I don't want to stop either."

"Just make me come already," I beg. I'm too tense, too needy to have him toy with me anymore.

With a groan, he grips my dangling leg by the knee and pushes it wide and to the side, splitting me open. He leans in and props a hand next to my head. When he thrusts into me, it's so intense, I almost immediately ripple into orgasm.

"No, you don't, angel," he says and stops, and my pussy clenches his cock in desperation. "Make me work for it a bit."

For a full minute, I squirm to rock into him, wanton and flushed with the need for release, and then he's at it again, this time pounding slow but hard. I grip his neck to pull him in for a kiss, and when our open mouths touch and his tongue licks as I suck, I can't hold back anymore. My orgasm tears through me, ripping me to shreds. It doesn't stop. Not until he hammers into me one last time and shoots his load into me.

We keep on kissing until he lifts his weight off me.

"I think we've ruined the sofa," I murmur.

"I think Matty's sofa has been here before."

"Matty?" I ask as he reaches for his pocket square in his jacket's front pocket.

"Matteo."

I giggle. "Tell me the rest of them."

To think these men have nicknames for each other curls my toes in delight.

"Matty, Nicky, Lucci, and Benny."

"Oh, God." I'm cracking up now. "And you are?"

He rolls his eyes at me as he wipes between my legs. "Don't laugh."

"Too late. Let me guess?"

He runs a finger around my sex. "Fanny."

I lean up and pull him closer for a kiss. "Because he knows how to fuck one to perfection."

"Just taking care of my wife," he murmurs, and I actually blush as I melt with love for this man. "Let's go to bed, my darling, beautiful wife. Tomorrow is going to be a rough day at the office."

He helps me into my robe, does a patchy buttoning up of his own clothes, and leads me out of Matteo's office into the dark apartment. It's really late, or rather, it's early morning. As we scale the stairs, the night's events rush through my head.

I pause on the landing. "Where's Vincenzo?"

Stephano squeezes my hand. "We're holding him."

"He isn't—" I break off.

"He'll be alive as long as he's useful."

"What's the plan?"

"I don't know. We were discussing our next steps when we got interrupted."

I drop my gaze. Oh, God.

"We're working on it, angel. I don't want you to worry about anything."

"Okay. But Carla?" She was fond of her half-brother, up until that Friday night. "How do I tell her? Or even Don Trapani when the time comes?"

Now I don't know if I can live with myself, as if I had a direct hand in his son's murder.

"Don't tell anybody anything. She doesn't even need to know Vincenzo is here, trying to kidnap you back to Italy. Just remember what he did to you, angel. He's a dead man for touching you tonight, never mind selling you out to Franco Fiore."

This is what I wanted. I fled to Boston secretly hoping the Scaleras will have it in them to protect us. Going back to Italy was always my goal, but after tonight and with Vincenzo finding his own grave here, I don't know if I can or want to look Don Trapani in the eye again.

Stephano opens the guest room door for me, and I walk inside. The bed is rumpled where I turned for ages trying to fall asleep. I remove the robe and get in under the duvet, watching as my husband disappears into the bathroom. When he comes out later, I'm still awake, staring into the dark.

"I'll organize some Plan B for you tomorrow," he says. "Unless you are on contraception already?"

I'm not on anything, but I hesitate.

"It isn't necessary," I say as he slips between the sheets. "I've got us covered."

Stephano turns to me and gathers me in his arms as he places a soft kiss in my hair. Emotion swells in me. At the end of all this, there waits a divorce. If nothing else, I might be lucky enough to be pregnant when we go our separate ways. Not that Stephano can ever know, and he'll be furious if he finds out I've deceived him, but I need something of him, of us. Something to hold close and to remind me of this beautiful man who has vowed to never marry and love a woman.