Franco never falters, never slows, fucking me through my orgasm and driving me toward another peak immediately. He's a man on a mission, and that mission seems to be wringing every possible ounce of pleasure from my body.
"Sarah," he growls, his voice strained. "I'm close. I should pull out—"
"No," I gasp, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice. "I want it. All of it. Inside me."
His rhythm falters for a moment, surprise evident in the slight hesitation. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," I moan, pushing back against him harder, increasing the pace. "I want to feel you. Please, Franco."
His grip on my hip tightens, fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave marks. "If you don't slow down, I'm going to cum inside you," he warns, his voice tight with restraint.
I don't slow down. If anything, I move faster, bouncing my ass against him, taking him deeper. I want this—want him—with an intensity that should frighten me. But in this moment, all I feel is need.
I feel the exact moment his control snaps. His cock swells inside me, throbbing as the first load of cum floods my insides. He groans, a deep, primal sound that sends shivers down my spine as he continues to pump into me, filling me with pulse after pulse of his release.
When he finally stills, both of us are breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. He pulls out, and I feel his cum beginning to trickle down my thigh as I collapse onto my stomach, too exhausted to hold myself up any longer.
Franco lies down beside me, propped on one elbow, his eyes roaming over my face. I should feel self-conscious—my hair amess, my makeup long since worn off, my body exposed, but the way he's looking at me makes me feel beautiful instead.
"You're beautiful," he says, as if reading my thoughts.
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I drop my gaze, unused to such direct compliments. "Thank you," I murmur, then sigh, reality beginning to intrude on our perfect moment. "This was... amazing. But I need to be realistic. I have a son. I can't have a man in my life, picking him up from school, being around our home, if he's not planning to stay. Tommy's been through enough disappointment."
Franco nods, his expression serious. "I understand. But I'm not planning to go anywhere, Sarah. As long as you and Tommy want me around, I'll be here."
Hope blooms in my chest, but I temper it with caution. "You need to understand something. Tommy comes first. Always. I can't expose him to someone who might disappear without warning."
"I won't disappear," Franco says with such conviction that I almost believe him completely. Then his expression sobers. "But you need to understand something too. My life, my work, that's not going to change. I'll still work for Dante. There will be days when I'm hard to reach, times when I might come home with blood on my clothes. The nature of what I do won't change."
My teeth clench at the reminder of exactly who he is, what he does. This man works for a mafia boss—a powerful, dangerous one at that. He's not going to suddenly become a nine-to-five office worker, coaching Little League on weekends. But strangely, that doesn't bother me as much as it should. Perhaps because I've seen both sides of him now. The dangerous enforcer and the gentle man who reads to children and buys groceries for strangers.
"I can accept that," I say slowly, "as long as you do your best to keep that part of your life away from Tommy. He doesn't need to know what you do, at least not until he's much older. And I need to know that you'll always be honest with me, even when the truth is ugly."
"I can do that," he says. "Honesty between us, protection for both of you, and I'll keep my work separate from Tommy." He hesitates, then adds, "But you should know that being connected to me comes with risks. People who want to hurt me might try to get to you or Tommy."
A chill runs down my spine at the thought, but I push past it. "Then you'll just have to make sure we're protected."
"With my life," he says simply, the promise heavy with meaning.
I reach out, tracing the scar on his collarbone, feeling the slightly raised tissue under my fingertips. "I believe you."
We lie in silence for a moment, the magnitude of what we're agreeing to settling over us. This isn't just about sex or attraction. We're talking about building something together, something that includes my son, something that crosses the dangerous worlds we each inhabit.
I've known Franco Salvatore for less than forty-eight hours, yet somehow he's already become essential. The rational part of me knows this is crazy, that we're moving too fast, that the odds are stacked against us. But watching him retrieve his clothes, seeing the way he hands me my own, I can't bring myself to care about rational thought or odds.
For the first time in five years, I'm allowing myself to want something beyond survival. I'm reaching for happiness, for connection, for a future that includes more than just my son and me struggling alone.
And despite everything, his dangerous job, my complicated life, and our limited knowledge of each other, it feels right. It feels like the beginning of something real.
Chapter 9 - Franco
"I believe you."
Sarah's words settle over me, the simple trust in them both comforting and terrifying. I believe her belief, and that's what scares me.
In all these years with the Venezianos, I've never had anyone to lose. Now, in less than forty-eight hours, I have a woman looking at me like I'm worth something beyond my capacity for violence, and a five-year-old boy who thinks I'm some kind of superhero.
I retrieve my clothes from where they've landed around the bedroom, my body still humming with the afterglow of what we just shared. As I dress, I watch Sarah do the same, noting the careful way she tests her injured ankle. It's clearly still sore, though the swelling has gone down somewhat.
