Chapter 14

14

Creed

“ I don’t want to want you, but I would never say never.”

Those are the words Zara told me earlier today. I thought she was referring to the possibility of wanting me in the future, not hours after we were married.

But there’s no denying the way she was looking at me earlier.

My wife couldn’t peel her eyes away from my cock, which was so damn hot.

It’s been over a year since I’ve had sex, since a woman has seen or looked appreciatively at my naked body.

I need to get ahold of myself and calm down before I make a fool of myself by coming on her thigh.

Trying to calm my dick down after my shower and second hand job of the day, I dry off and wrap the towel around my hips, then retrieve Zara’s phone from my discarded pants pocket.

Other than asking me to call into work for her, she hasn’t tried to make any calls or even get her hands on the device, which is surprising.

Entering her easy code, I unlock the phone and start snooping around, wanting to learn more about my new bride.

I start with her text messages.

Other than Izaiah’s that I deleted last night, there are a few conversations that seem to be with people she works with, talking about shifts and store shit.

Moving over to her photos, I open the album, expecting to see mostly images of a little girl who looks like her mother in the recent images. Instead, there are photos of people and places in the city, mostly Queens. Random things, all in black and white which makes them seem sad. I go through pictures of a train, an old man sitting alone on a bench, an ice cream truck, women pushing kids in strollers, and a cat sitting in the doorway of a bodega before I finally get to an adorable, smiling, curly-haired girl in full color.

The first image is a photo of the back of her head. In the next several shots, she’s standing in front of glass with greenery and rocks behind her. If I had to guess, I’d say the images are from the zoo.

Right, that was Zara’s reward for setting me up and getting my brother killed.

There aren’t many different settings behind the girl, just tons of her looking and pointing at different things, a few of her eating a melting ice cream cone. The pink dessert is literally dripping down the sides of the cone, over her fingers, and running down her messy, cherubic face. Every photo of Oriana is brightly colored, a contrast with the images of dark and gloomy city life.

Knowing why she helped Izaiah lure me and Carmine to the club that night, I don’t feel nearly as angry with her. If anything, after learning what Izaiah has put Zara through, I want to hold her and kiss her until she forgets that bastard ever existed. And I want to be the one who returns her daughter back to her arms, to make her world bright and happy every second of the day.

Fuck, I hope Izaiah is rotting in hell where he belongs.

While I don’t trust Zara enough to return her phone to her yet, I order up a compromise for her online and have it shipped to the penthouse.

After I’m done with her phone, I check mine and follow up on a few messages before I walk out of the bathroom.

The last thing I expected was to see Zara sitting in my bed underneath the covers, wearing my white tee.

God, I want her so damn much, it hurts.

I wish I could climb into bed, grab her, and kiss her to see where it goes. After all, it’s our wedding night, and she’s waiting for me in my bed.

But I can’t do that.

Not after what she told me about fucking Izaiah Rovina and his “favors.”

Not until I know if she actually wants me and doesn’t feel obligated to fuck me because she thinks she can’t say no.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Zara asks when I continue standing there like a statue, my fingers gripping the two phones in one hand and the doorway in the other as if trying to hold myself back.

“You want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“I was just thinking I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you, and I don’t know why. What it is about you?” I find myself being brutally honest with her, probably telling her more than I should, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “And it’s not just because you’re beautiful, and now you’re my wife. That’s what makes you so dangerous.”

“I’m dangerous?” she replies with a huff of laughter. “No one’s ever been afraid of me. I don’t have any scary nicknames, either. That’s all you, Mr. Angel of Death.”

“Just because I have scary nicknames doesn’t mean that you owe me anything. In this marriage, it’s you who holds all the power.”

“I wish that were true,” she replies with a sad smile.

“I killed a man in a fit of rage for you before you were even mine.”

She blinks at me as if in surprise. “That’s...that’s why you killed Izaiah?”

“I couldn’t stand seeing him near you, and when he held that knife to your throat I…snapped. I know you were concerned I might let him kill you so I wouldn’t have to, but the thought never crossed my mind. It should have, but it didn’t.”

Leaving her with that truth, I go into the closet and lock up my cell and hers in the safe. When I return to the bedroom, Zara says, “Izaiah…that wasn’t just revenge for your brother?”

“I don’t make stupid, spontaneous mistakes like I did last night. After he confessed, I should’ve waited, come up with a foolproof plan, and made his death look like an accident once I found out if Emilio was involved. But I couldn’t wait.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks redden, and I have no idea why. So, it’s my turn to ask, “What are you thinking about?” I pull the covers back to climb into bed next to her.

“Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me before,” she says softly. “Even just being spoken to with respect is new. Most of the time, Izaiah was drunk or high or both when he came over, and he had other plans for my mouth rather than talking to me like a person.”

Fuck.

Now, I’m unfortunately thinking about her on her knees for that piece of shit.

“Our conversations were short, usually him giving me orders. ”

“Orders?” I ask, then instantly regret it.

“Orders, you know, like telling me to suck harder, swallow like a good girl. And my least favorite of all, he would make me tell him who I belonged to.”

I loathe hearing what Izaiah did to her, with her. It seems so one-sided, I ask her, “Was he always a selfish bastard? Did he ever give you what you needed?”

“No. It was always about him. Izaiah barely touched more than the back of my throat.”

Jesus Christ.

“How about we make a deal that neither of us will ever say that fucking stronzo ’s name again?”

“Deal. I prefer Piece of Shit anyway.”

“And that piece of shit never got you off?”

She shakes her head, her curls still damp and pulled up off her delectable-looking neck. “Never.”

“That’s a shame, micetta mia . I would give anything just to make you moan for me.” Moan, scream, rake her fingernails through my hair or down my back. The list of things I want to do to her is long. And there’s no point in pretending I don’t want her when she’s married to me and sharing my bed.

“Anything?” Zara asks. Before I can answer, she reaches for my hand and places it on her thigh, and I’m beyond stunned. Even more so when she slips my palm up underneath the hem of my tee she’s wearing. “Would you kill another man for me?”

“Just tell me his name.”

Fucking hell. I’m certain I’m dreaming when she lets my fingertips brush over her bare pussy because she’s not wearing any panties.

And while this almost feels like another set up, I plunge headfirst into it again as she presses harder against my hand.

“Being married to the mafia has some nice perks. ”

“You have no idea how nice the perks are yet,” I assure her. “Want me to show you a few of them?”

“Please.” Her soft whisper nearly undoes me.

I watch Zara’s face, her eyes holding mine as I glide my middle finger through her slit, then slide it inside of her slickness. She’s so damn wet for me, making me rock hard.

When her lips part on a gasp, I swoop in, claiming her lips. Her hand tightens over mine as it fucks her nice and slow. At the sound of her first moan, I shove my tongue deep into her mouth, tasting her for the first time.

She’s fucking delicious.

Both of us swallow each other’s groan from the teasing sensation of our clashing tongues, knowing exactly what the thrusts really represent.

Wanting to hear her cry out, I pull back and say, “I don’t like the idea of letting my new wife go an entire day without coming for me. Especially not on our wedding night.”

“Was…was the ceremony…just this morning?” Her back arches when I add a second finger. “ Oh god !”

“Yes.” It’s so hot hearing her scream. I don’t think I could ever get enough of it.

“It-it feels like…a lifetime ago.”

“It’s been a long day.” I press my lips to her neck, and my fingers keep pumping in and out of her. “And you deserve to be worshipped, not only for being brave enough to marry me, but for helping me throw a man’s body into the ocean.”

Rather than recoil from the mention of the asshole I murdered, her silky walls tighten around my fingers and her thighs clench around my arm. All it takes is pressing my thumb to her clit, and Zara cries out even louder.

I don’t dare cover her mouth again, even though I ache to keep kissing her. No, I just watch the ecstasy spread across her beautiful face, her pretty lips parting wide on a silent scream. Her eyes are closed tight while her hips buck, riding out the waves of pleasure. She drenches my fingers in her arousal, making my mouth water.

When her grip on my hand between her legs relaxes and her eyes open again, finding mine watching her, I pull my fingers free. She keeps gripping my hand even as I lift my fingers to my mouth, sticking them inside to suck them clean. “Mmm,” I groan. “You taste so damn good, micetta mia .” Knowing how drenched she is between her thighs, my dick gets heavier. I lift the hem of her tee to see her glistening for me and nearly come right then and there at the sight. “Can I lick you until you come on my tongue, Zara?”

“Ah…” she trails off, her eyes still hazy from her orgasm.

“I don’t expect anything in return,” I clarify as I run my tattooed hand up the inside of her thigh. While I’d love nothing more than to climb on top of my wife and claim her, make her mine in every possible way tonight, there’s something holding me back.

Carmine.

It doesn’t feel right for me to be here with this beautiful woman, receiving even an ounce of relief for myself while my brother is dead. But I could pleasure Zara all damn night. Even if she’s partially at fault for Carmine’s death, I know I need to let that go.

She’s my wife now, and I want to treat her right in and out of my bed, give her anything and everything she needs. “This is just for you tonight.”

“Just for me?” she repeats, her voice skeptical as if she doesn’t believe.

“Yes. Just for you. I don’t deserve any pleasure.”