Chapter Forty

Greta and I had been married for two months. Life had returned to normal, or what now was my new normal: returning to a welcoming home every night after work.

The elevator doors slid open and immediately I was ambushed by Bear, Teacup, Momo and Dotty. I’d never wanted animals, had rolled my eyes when Marcella had taken in dogs from Growl’s shelter, and now here I was with a pack of my own. They were the reason why we were looking for a townhouse with a garden. An apartment in Manhattan just wasn’t the right place for them.

I petted them and headed for the kitchen. Greta was dressed in a tutu and preparing dinner while she talked to someone on the phone. She gave me a quick smile and pointed at the phone with an apologetic look. She held up two fingers. I could wait two minutes. I nodded and leaned against the kitchen counter, pouring myself a glass of the red wine that Greta had already opened so it could breathe.

I knew Greta had been practicing ballet in secret when I wasn’t home. She didn’t want to dance in front of me yet, not happy with her performance. I couldn’t wait to see her dance again but I wasn’t going to push her. I was just happy that she seemed to settle in much better than I’d feared. She got along great with Sara, and the rest of the Trevisans. My mother positively adored her and pretty much saw her as another daughter, and even Marcella and Greta bonded over their shared love for dangerous beasts, in human and animal form. Marcella had become a softie since giving birth anyway. It was a strange thing to witness.

I tried to imagine Greta as a mother. The thought always made me smile. We hadn’t decided when to start our own family, but we needed more time together and for our families to arrange themselves with the new situation.

Greta finally ended the call and hopped over to me, giving me a kiss. I caught the hint of concern in her eyes.

“Let me guess, your brother messed up again?”

“Not worse than before. It’s impossible to talk to him.”

“He’s lucky Aurora ran to you and not her parents.”

“You can’t ever mention it to Fabiano or anyone.”

“I swore it.”

I stroked her hair away from her face. “You can’t save everyone, especially not your brother.”

“I know, but Nevio needs someone.”

Nevio needed an exorcist at the very least.

“When will you see Aurora again?”

“Tomorrow in Gianna’s gym. We’re doing yoga together.”

Nevio’s mess up had one good thing at least. Greta had Aurora as a familiar face in New York, at least for a while, and Mom had someone to dote on now that Valerio had moved out.

“If you want you can invite her to the Hamptons too. She can spend time with you, Sara and Isabella when I go jetskiing with Maximus.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I kissed her then risked a glance into the pot. It was some sort of creamy soup with gnocchi. “Soy cream?” My lips curled.

Greta pursed her lips. “I tried a cream on coconut base this time. And the gnocchi are homemade since you didn’t like the last vegan ones I bought.”

I sighed. “I love everything about you, except for your food ethics.”

“You can eat meat and eggs and cheese any time you want, I just don’t want to prepare it.” She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. “And I bet you had an emergency hot dog on the way home.”

I grinned. Maximus, Matteo, and even Dad had taken it upon themselves to supply me with meaty snacks and lunch during the workday. “I like meat. You know I’m not a good man, and eating meat is one of my less severe sins.”

Greta shook her head. “Will you try my gnocchi soup?”

“You know I always do. And if it’s inedible I’ll wash it down with plenty of wine.” I kissed her indignant mouth to soften the impact of my words then helped her set the table. Even if I had to eat tofu scramble, seitan schnitzel and soy ice cream for the rest of my life, I’d still be the happiest asshole in the whole world.

“I’m ready,” Greta said with a nervous smile as she took my hand and led me toward the ballet room she’d installed in our new house. We’d only moved in a few days ago and hadn’t unpacked the majority of our boxes yet. We’d be celebrating Christmas in Las Vegas this year and our flight was leaving in the morning so we hadn’t rushed unpacking.

“I’ve been practicing every day. I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’ll love it,” I said when Greta released my hand to walk into the center of the room. I hadn’t wanted anything for Christmas from her except for a dance and today she’d finally grant me my wish.

My mouth ran dry as I watched her. I wasn’t sure why Greta had waited this long to dance for me. She was pure perfection as she twirled and bent her body to the music. She was grace and passion wrapped in one. If her knee gave her trouble, she didn’t show it.

I could have watched her forever, especially the utter happiness and passion on her face as she gave herself to the music.

When the final note faded away, Greta straightened from where she’d bowed low. Her eyes shone with excitement, then hopefulness.

“It’s the best Christmas present I could ask for.”

She smiled broadly. “It feels amazing to dance again.”

She headed for the bar at the mirror. “I still have trouble holding the Grand Plie for long and sometimes my leg cramps if I’m standing on my toes for very long but I’m improving every day.” She showed me which moves she meant, completely in her element. She raised one leg while she rose on her tiptoe, and I was momentarily distracted by the way her thong wedged between her ass cheeks. She was watching me in the mirror as she lowered the leg back to the ground. I prowled toward her like a starving lion. Her nipples puckered beneath her leotard. She wasn’t wearing tights or a bra. Apparently, I would be getting another present. All my fantasies about claiming Greta in her ballet outfit would finally become reality.

I came up behind her and touched her slender waist, towering over in the mirror. “Lift your leg.”

With an elegant move she raised her leg and put her ankle on the bar. This position allowed me to see how the crotch of her leotard wedged between her pussy. My mouth watered. I sank to my knees, shoved her leotard thong aside and licked her from behind, loving the access this ballet move gave me. I could feel Greta watching me eat her out in the mirror.

I didn’t give her leg a chance to give in from strain. I drove her toward her orgasm at high speed, too eager to fuck her in front of the mirrors.

She came in my mouth, her little clit pulsing against my lip, her juices dripping on my tongue.

Her fingers around the bars were white, her eyes closed as she basked in the pleasure.

I pressed a kiss to Greta’s swollen pussy lips before I scooted backward and pushed to my feet.

I unzipped my pants and freed my cock. Greta still had her eyes closed and her chest was heaving, her nipples hard.

She had lowered herself to her sole, one leg still suspended on the bar. “Get back on your tiptoe,” I said gruffly.

She did without hesitation but when she moved to lower her leg, I touched her calf. “This one stays up.”

She bit her lower lip as I guided my tip to her opening, widening my stance so I could reach her. I rubbed my tip over her slick opening before I pushed in my tip. Greta’s lips parted. I lowered my gaze, loving the sight of my fat tip buried in Greta’s beautiful pussy, how it welcomed my cock even though it seemed like it would never fit. Discomfort filled Greta’s face and I stroked her calf and thigh but didn’t stop.

I pushed deeper in, groaning as my tip was squeezed and stroked by Greta’s inner walls.

Greta’s fingers tightened further around the bar and I tilted her head back and lowered my mouth to hers as I filled her entirely. We kissed for a bit before I pulled back, unable to resist the need to see my cock buried in Greta.

This raw act of claiming Greta was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

Greta released a shuddering breath. Her muscles briefly tightened their hold, making me grit my teeth before they loosened. She was always tight around me but I knew I could move now.

“It feels so good. Don’t stop.”

Soon Greta became even slicker as I worked my way in and out slowly. My cock glistened with her juices and I sped up. I wrapped my arms tightly around Greta’s chest as I pushed into her. In the mirror I watched Greta’s lust-filled face, her tiny nipples puckering against the sheer material of her leotard and my cock claiming her sweet pussy.

We came at the same time and both sank to the ground in a breathless heap, Greta in my lap.

“Since the first time I saw you in your tutu, I’ve wanted to do this,” I rasped.

“You desired me back then already?”

“Oh yes. I was completely obsessed from the first second. I never believed in love at first sight, but you converted me.”

Greta laughed, her expression doubtful. “It sounds like lust at first sight.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t just lust. I’ve felt lust before but what I felt when I saw you it was so much more potent and scarier.”

“So I scared you in the beginning?”

I chuckled. “You could say that. It was a new experience. Does that shock you?”

She grinned cheekily. “Not really. I’m a Falcone.”

I laughed and slammed my lips against hers. After a moment I pulled back. “You’re a Vitiello now.” I’d never grow tired of hearing someone call her Greta Vitiello, especially around Remo or Nevio.

She tilted her head, her eyes soft and loving. “I’m both.”

I knew her heart would always be split between Las Vegas and New York, and that was okay. Greta’s heart was big enough for her family and me. I would eternally be grateful that she’d opened her heart for me at all.