18
GIOVANNI
The loud slam of the door behind me bounces off the walls of my family’s estate. My blood is still sizzling from my confrontation with Valeria. It lasted too long and tested every ounce of my patience. I stood my ground, though. I told her unequivocally that she either pulls into line or removes herself from the lineup entirely. I’m tired of her deception and manipulation. Compromise is no longer an option. What she damaged cannot be fixed, and frankly, I don’t want to fix it.
Her sniveling defense replays in my mind as I stride through the halls with my fists clenched at my sides. I loathe that no amount of wishful thinking will allow me to resolve this dilemma with my gun. But more than anything, I hate that she tried to use my brother’s loyalties against me.
She wove her story so tightly around Valentina that even Dante started to doubt her.
I smelled the controversy on his skin when he reminded me how the “Surprise! You’re a father!” ruse knocked him on his ass. But this is different. Valentina isn’t Anna. She wouldn’t play me like that.
I get he wants to caution me about not making the same mistake,but it’s too late for that. I’m already in too deep. I’m obsessed with Valentina—snowed under by a force too great for mankind to budge. It’s savage. The hunger I have for her won’t let me rest, and the need grew tenfold after having her beneath me.
Leaving Valentina to settle into my room alone was the last thing I wanted to do. It felt like I was abandoning her to the wolves. But I couldn’t risk Valeria getting to my father first and feeding him the same lies she told my brothers.
She’s painting Valentina as the villain, and until I told my brother with utmost certainty that I won’t tolerate a bad word spoken about Valentina, everyone had believed her lies.
Stories root fast in this family, and it’s virtually impossible to dig them out once they’re planted, but I gave it my best shot. I’ve spent hours adjusting Valentina’s ledger from bad to good, and for months, I’ll have no clue if it’s paid off.
When I reach my suite, I find the door locked. My initial annoyance fades when I realize Valentina most likely locked it for privacy. After slipping a key out of my pocket, I quietly unlock the door and enter my room. The space is dimly lit, and the scent of Valentina’s perfume tinges the air.
My heart strums my ribs when I find Valentina curled up in a wingback chair near the fireplace. Her knees are tucked under her chin, and her cheek is resting on her open hand.
This could be my cockiness speaking, but it’s as if she didn’t want to sleep in my bed without me.
The thought turns my cock to stone.
I cross the room in three lengthy strides. When I lift her gently, careful not to wake her, she murmurs my name but doesn’t wake.
I carry her to the bed, bombarded with previously unventured emotions. I’m relieved that she’s here, in my space, and not lost to Valeria’s schemes. But I also feel guilty for letting family politics take precedence over her comfort.
Additionally, there’s that fierce, possessive longing that borders on obsessive.
I want her close, always, and for her to know she’smine.
After laying her down, I remove her shoes and tuck her in, unconcerned that she hasn’t showered. I love that she still smells like me. It’s a selfish comfort that reminds me our connection is unique and unbreakable.
As I brush a stray lock of hair from Valentina’s cheek, she sighs and sinks further into the pillow. Without shame, I watch her so closely that I can count the thuds of her pulse in her neck. I’m captivated by how peaceful she looks in my realm. It’s as if she knows I’ll keep her safe. This feeling isn’t new to me, but it’s usually reserved for my brothers and our father.
I’ve spent years building walls so I can keep everyone at arm’s length, but with Valentina, those defenses crumble. I’ll be the man she can rely on and the one who never lets her down, because I’d rather take an axe to my cock than disappoint her.
After a prolonged stalk, I lock the entry doors of my room and office with the master key, then enter the bathroom. I’m reluctant to wash Valentina’s scent off my skin, but if I don’t ease the throbbing in my balls, I’ll take her in her sleep.
Since I’m meant to be showing her a new side of me, not displaying the tendencies of a rapist with no morals, a quick self-release in the shower will have to do.
I strip fast before letting the hot water take care of some of the tension in my shoulders. It does little to ease the ache in my cock, so before I’ve even loaded my hand up with suds, I curl it around my shaft and give it a handful of tugs.
As I stroke my cock in rhythm to my frantic pulse, I picture Valentina’s dark locks sprawled against the earthy green ground, and her face glowing with ecstasy. I stroke myself harder as I remember how her pussy was on display for everyone to see, yet I experienced no worry about her being exposed.
The guards aren’t brave enough to look in the Carusos’s direction in general, but when we enter the orchards, they turn a blind eye to everything. Drugs. Guns. The woman who’s taken me back to my youth, where it’s essential to come three times a day to function anywhere close to normal.
With my eyes closed, I do everything not to come on the fucking spot.
That’s what Valentina’s sultry curves and beautiful face do to me. I could come just recalling the charge that zapped through me when she spun my way for the first time.
I stroke my cock faster.
It feels good, though it has nothing on how it felt when Valentina wrapped her lips around the crown and sucked down, or the way her pussy pulsated both in pain and euphoria when I pushed in a little impatiently.
