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The sun was already starting to spread heat and brightness across the sky when we slumped on the bed, panting and trying to catch our breaths.
I couldn’t get enough of her. Francesca was like my personal addiction. The more I tasted, the more I craved it. Her.
She had finally surrendered her body, but there was so much more I wanted.
Her mind.
Her soul.
Her heart.
Those were all things I couldn’t take. Those were hers to keep or hers to give.
For now, I’d have to settle for this first win and enjoy the spoils of my victory. Francesca was lying naked, spent, and thoroughly fucked on my bed. She had this new light around her that went well with the flushed cheeks and swollen lips I had gifted her with.
The night was over, but my thirst for her was far from quenched.
“What?” She asked, smiling back at me while I took in the perfection that was her.
“Nothing. Just admiring my naked wife and thinking about how I’m going to ruin you next.”
I couldn’t help the strange feeling that invaded me every time I called or thought about her as my wife.
I’m a possessive man, I knew that much about myself, and sharing never was my forte. The murderous feeling that burned under my skin as I saw all those fuckers eyes on Francesca yesterday made it perfectly clear that I thought of her as mine.
It was more than just possession. There was pride in that word, too.
“Is that right? What have you come up with so far?”
Francesca rolled over towards me, laying her head on my chest and pulling a leg over mine while I enveloped her in a tight hug, kissing her soft hair.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Her hand roamed all over my bare chest as if she were scanning it with her fingertips, storing the image and the feeling in her mind. A smile of fulfillment spread across my face, the undeniable reaction to my surfacing peace as I held her close to me, inhaling her sweet scent which now lingered all over my body.
“I love this tattoo…” Her voice was smaller now, trailing off as she stroked the letters written on my chest.
“It’s my Omertà.”
“Read it for me.” Francesca looked up and settled her obsidian eyes on mine with a seriousness that shook me to my core.
“It says, ‘Silence and Respect are my weapons.’”
“No, come on. I know what it means, I just want to hear you say it. As it’s written. In Italian.”
I spun her around, holding her naked body in my arms before swiping her hair from covering her neck and started to read the sentence. Slowly, with a thick Italian accent that was certain to light her up like the Fourth of fucking July.
I kissed the soft spot of the right side of her neck, my lips dragging against her skin as I spoke, “Silenzio,” another kiss, lower on her collarbone, “E Rispetto,” one more on her chest, right above her heart, before pulling back to hover over her perfect face, “Sono le mie armi.” I captured her lips, feeling her breath catch in her chest.
I could never grow tired of her lips. They stirred something up on the inside, my whole body close to going into overdrive each time I kissed her.
“I think you should add kisses as one of your weapons, too,” she whispered against me with her eyes still closed.
“That’s a weapon I will only ever use on you. That’s part of my Oath, and more importantly, it’s part of who I am, even without the Omertà.”
Francesca’s brows pinched together as concern took over her features.
“We are called men of honor for a reason, Francesca. I take that title to heart. Being faithful is just one of the many expressions of respect. I would never betray you. I would never use these kisses on anyone else but you,” I confessed, the truth and sincerity in my words making her shiver under my touch.
