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“Right.” I fought back the unexplainable disappointment flooding me. She was absolutely right, of course. That didn’t mean it didn't annoy the hell out of me. Bending down, I grabbed one from my pocket, my hands trembling, trying to open the stupid thing.
She took the pack and tore it open with her teeth. Taking the rubber out, she pulled it on me, doing it so slowly, she must want me to fucking explode all over her hand.
With a groan, I gruffly pushed her hand away and pushed my rock-hard cock inside.
Fuck.
This, this was what I had missed. I wanted to enjoy this moment and settle in first, but my body had other plans. I fucked her hard and fast, my cock thickening at the sight of her bouncing breasts, wet with my saliva on her brown nipples. Goosebumps filled her like a second skin.
She was gorgeous and wild. And mine, I thought as she let another loud moan slip.
I pasted my mouth on her, swallowing her moans as I pumped in.
Fuck
I wasn’t going to be able to hold it in. I groaned. I tried to hold back from coming before she did, but like a fucking teenager, I shot myself inside her, filling her up with spurt after spurt of cum. Luckily for me, she joined me soon after, milking me dry, her legs trembling.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
DIVYA
“You have no idea what type of man you have married, have you?”
I bumped my head in the dishwasher, where I had my head tucked, adding salt to the machine.
I stuck my head out and looked up to find Maria Capizzi standing next to me in her high heels, her signature bright red lipstick even more striking than usual on her pale face.
Rosa had rushed out for a task assigned by Mrs Capizzi. Now the woman herself was here, no doubt for yet another of her late evening visits with impending doom. Except I had no one to hide behind now. I wished I hadn’t put Cora to bed. The comfort of her innocence would have done wonders against the aggressive vibes flowing off the woman dominating the kitchen.
I stood up, swallowed a sigh, and made my way over to the sink to wash my hands. I would have preferred this confrontation another time, when I wasn’t caught on my haunches, in my shorts and dirty top from Cora’s last mishap with fruit juice. Because there was no doubt in my mind that this was anything but a confrontation.
Then again…
The last time she had almost seen me almost being fucked by her son. Another reason why I did not doubt that this was not going to be a pleasant tête-à-tête.
Impatient with the lack of an answer, Mrs Capizzi stomped over to me, crowding my personal space next to the sink. Even the gust around me shrank away in fear. “Short of hearing, are you?” She snapped her fingers rudely, drawing my attention to her face.
Taking a deep breath, I turned around. “I am not sure what you mean, Mrs Capizzi.”
“You are not sure… You are more of an idiot than I thought. You never wonder what your so-called husband does when he leaves in the middle of the night?” She sniggered like a bully in high school. “Or are you only interested in his money?”
Mrs Capizzi had many talents if you could call them that. One of them was the ability to trigger anyone. She walked into the room and created an instant carnage. Changing the mood of anyone, just like she did with the click of her long nails.
Uneasiness crept upon me. An air of imminent doom hung in the kitchen. Sheer desperation made me glance beyond her shoulders hoping Rosa would turn up. There was only a slight chance of that happening since she had just left not five minutes ago, taking Armando with her.
Don’t let her see she’s getting to you.
“I am sure Antonio will tell me if it’s something I should know.” Puffing my chest out, I put out a brave front.
He did have unusual hours, the husband of mine. Whatever it was, I much preferred to hear it from him than from this woman, who, it was quite obvious, did not have my best interest in mind. Nor his.
She, of course, contradicted me with her words. “Oh, but I think you should know. I feel a husband should be open with his wife, don’t you?”
Holding the towel, I was drying my hands off as a shield, I made to move away. “It’s really not—”
“He kills people,” she cut me off.
I inhaled sharply. I stilled and struggled to make sense of her words. I came to only one conclusion. The woman was mad.
