Chapter 29 MICELI

"No."

That single word resonates through every sinew of my being.

Róise still sees me as her enemy. She's still planning to divorce me someday (never going to happen), but when I tell her I haven't touched another woman since Portland, she believes me.

Already hard enough to pound rocks, my cock presses insistently against the zipper on my slacks. My little head and big head are in full agreement.

He wants out. I want him inside her tight heat.

"How much do you like this jumpsuit?" My brain is figuring out scenarios for getting her back into the mansion unseen if I cut it off her.

I pull my knife out.

Her green eyes, dark with need, widen. "You are not cutting off my clothes."

The offer to cut a slit for access dies a quick death. I want to feast on every inch of her silky skin, but especially the honeyed depths between her legs.

I leave the knife out though.

Róise squirms against me. "Let me down."

Since I can't think of a way to get that jumpsuit off without releasing her, I do. Then I send a quick text to Allessio and Zoey

.

Miceli : Do not let anyone near the boathouse until we come out .

Both reply with an okay emoji.

When I look up Róise is already down to her panties, bra and socks. She scampers over to the seating area, her ass and tits jiggling .

She settles into a big white armchair and takes off her socks, but leaves her lingerie on. Her small feet come up to rest on the ottoman, her knees spread so I can see the wet spot on the crotch of her panties.

Reclining backward, she waves her hand at me. "Strip for me."

Her throaty voice goes straight to my balls.

She wants me to strip for her? "By the time I'm naked, you'll be panting for me."

"I already am."

Her breath is coming in little gasps, making her fleshy mounds rise and fall with each one.

I toe off my socks and know immediately why she kept hers on. The water friendly tile floor is cold as ice. But I'm hot enough to melt it. Ignoring the sting against the bottom of my feet, I unbuckle my belt and pull it from the loops, tossing it to land near her feet on the ottoman.

With a startled sound, she jumps. "Throwing things at me is not sexy."

"Everything about you is sexy."

A blush darkens her cheeks, but she snarks, "And that makes you want to throw things?"

"Just my belt." I have plans for it.

Unzipping my slacks, I let them fall to the floor. And then I wait. Her hungry gaze eats up my legs and she swallows, her fingers digging into the arms of the chair.

Only when those pretty green eyes lock on the tent in my black silk knit boxers do I start to slide the waistband over my straining erection.

When the head comes into view, she licks her lips.

I slide the waistband down a couple of inches, letting her see more of my engorged cock.

"You're teasing me," she pants.

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

Her eyes meet mine for a brief second before going straight back to my sex. "I thought it was."

Shoving my boxers the rest of the way off, I let my cock bob free. So hard, I can feel the pressure of the blood rushing through it, my dick sticks straight up.

Róise moans and shifts, like she's going to get up.

"Don't move." I grab myself, running my calloused hand up and down the aching shaft.

"Then you come here," she orders.

I smile. It's not a nice one. I'm not a nice man. "When I'm done."

"You only have your shirt left. "

"Are you telling me you don't want to see the rest of me?" I won't believe her if she does.

Licking her lips, she shakes her head, nods, then shakes her head again.

Jacking myself slowly, I undo one button at a time on my shirt. When I get to the last one, it gapes. But it doesn't reveal much more skin because when I'm dressed for work, which is most of the time, I wear an undershirt.

"Take it off. Them. Take them off."

Her enthusiasm turns me on. "Slide your hand down your body and into your panties for me."

She sucks in a shocked breath, but one hand releases its death grip on the arm of the chair and starts the journey.

When she reaches the top of her panties, she runs her fingertip along the waistband, teasing us both.

"Be a good girl and do as I say."

Something flares hot in her eyes and her fingers dip beneath the pink lace. Her middle finger slides between her lips and she groans.

"That's good. Play with that little bud, but keep your eyes on me, Aphrodite."

The order is superfluous. Her gaze is glued to the hand stroking my dick. "Take them off, Ares. Please."

The please does it. I undo my cufflinks.

Plink . Plink . They hit the tile floor.

And then I shrug off my shirt and it follows them. I rip my undershirt over my head and watch her eyes dilate with pleasure at the sight of me.

Cazzo . This woman.

"Ares." My name is another plea.

Grabbing my knife, I stalk across the space between us. When I reach her, I lay the knife next to my belt and grab her ankles. Then I yank her toward me until her ass is on the edge of the ottoman.

She lets out a shocked cry.

Picking up the knife, I say, "Don't move."

"What are you going to do?"

"Make you feel good."

After a shaky breath, she nods.

Leaning down, I carefully slide the sharp blade of my knife between her hip and panties, flat side down. With a flick to the right, the lace rends. Then I do the other side.

After pulling the ruined underwear away from her, I lower myself to my knees. The hard tile against them gives me the dig of pain I need to maintain control of my cock .

I am not ready to come and I sure as hell am not doing it without being inside her. Not this time.

Her arousal perfumes the air around us. "Can you smell how excited you are, mi dolce fiore ?"

"Yes," she moans. "What's dolce fiore ?"

She forgot the mi , the most important of those three words. She is mine.

And her pronunciation needs a lot of work.

"My sweet flower, your perfume is all I want to smell." Leaning forward, I inhale and rub my nose along her slit.

Her pussy now has a small thatch of silky chestnut brown curls and I huff air over it, knowing how much sensation that can give a woman.

"Oh…" The word is long and drawn out. "That's so good. I thought…"

My tongue follows the path my nose has taken and her flavor bursts onto my tongue. "What did you think?"

"That it was more sensitive bare."

Her pussy?

"Let's find out." Pressing her thighs wide, I expose the flushed plump flesh of her inner lips and kiss them.

With my lips and tongue.

Her hands grip my hair and a litany of pleasure sounds fall from her sweet mouth.

I avoid her clit while lavishing attention all over her sensitive nether lips. Chasing more of her sweet honey, I spear my tongue into her channel, the tight flesh reminding me how innocent she is.

"Oh, Ares, yes…more…please…"

I give her more until she's begging Ares to let her come.

Lifting my head, I wait until she meets my eyes. "Miceli."

Call me Mars or Ares, I am the god of war, but she needs to acknowledge the man giving her pleasure is the Cosa Nostra underboss. The man she is going to marry.

Hazy eyes don't comprehend at first and then they focus, her mouth sliding into a slight frown.

Rubbing my thumbs up and down on either side of her swollen little bud, I lick her juices off my lips.

Her pupils dilate.

She likes that. My perfect bride-to-be revels in the earthy nature of sex.

But I need her to do it knowing exactly who she is getting her pleasure from. "Say, please, Miceli and I will give you the orgasm your body is screaming for."

"But you're Ares too. "

"I am."

"So—"

"Say it." I will her to acknowledge me and who I am.

Her expression changes, her nose scrunching, her eyelids letting only a slit of her green irises show between them.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping my brain to squint."

What the fuck?

The beautiful features morph again, this time into a disconsolate frown. "I can't do it."

"You can't say my name?"

"I can't make my brain squint enough to forget you're a Cosa Nostra underboss."

"Good." Because that is what I am.

"But, it's easier if…" Her soft voice trails off.

I can guess what she was going to say though. It's easier to give herself to the stranger she met in a club than the man who is very much a part of her world. A part she has resented since her mom's death.

"I am not Bonanno."

"I know."

"If you want me to kill the man who shot your mother, I will." Supposing he's still alive.

"You can't do that."

"I can." I'll have to disappear the body because no way is the godfather going to sanction the hit.

"It's against your code."

"De Lucas protect our own."

"But…" She looks bewildered. "My grandfather forbade my father from going after her killer."

"Do you think he listened?" Will I be hunting a ghost?

Róise's eyes take on a faraway look and then she shakes her head. "No."

"Then he's already dead."

"Probably."

"I will find out."

"And kill him if he's alive?" she asks.

"Yes."

Instead of replying she laughs.

"What is funny?"

"This." She waves her hand indicating our naked bodies .

Almost naked. She's still wearing the pink lace bra that matches her now destroyed panties. It will be joining them soon enough.

After she asks me to let her come.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation like this," she adds. "It's absurd."

"No other way we can have it." I'm not putting my mouth back on her pussy until she acknowledges who I am.

"What does the tattoo on your arm mean?"

"You're so sure it means something?"

"Yes."

She's right. "The wolf is my father, but he is Sev too. And me. It is the savage nature inside us that protects our family."