When I was undressed, I moved on top of her.
She clearly hadn’t expected it, based on the flash of surprise in her eyes.
I slipped my hand up her dress and pulled down her little G-string before I parted her thighs with my knees, and the dress bunched up around her waist. “I had to watch you walk around all night looking like the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen.” I guided myself to her entrance then sank into the soft petals of her flower. I watched her take a breath when I entered her, her painted nails moving to the muscles of my arms.
It was late and we were both tired, but my dick was loaded and ready to blow. I’d broken that asshole’s arm because of the way he disrespected the don, but I’d publicly humiliated him because of the way he’d looked at my woman.
I didn’t give a damn about how mad Don Mancini was at my behavior.
I would always protect my woman. At a wedding or at a funeral—the place didn’t matter. My gaze had never been tinted so red. I’d seen blood creep into the corners of my gaze. The ferocity had nearly snapped my spine in two. What I’d really wanted to do was murder him with my knife and leave his bloody corpse on the white linen tablecloth, but I didn’t for the don’s sake.
Her eyes were so tired, but she was into it right away, her ankles locked together around my torso, her hips rocking back into my thrusts, her little moans growing louder the longer I made love to her.
I pulled down the other strap of her dress then tugged down the top so her tits popped out. I loved her tits. I loved her ass. I loved her pussy. She was my favorite playground, and I wanted to ride everything.
I knew she was about to come, based on the way her breaths deepened, the way her chest started to darken with a red tint as her blood flushed to all of her tissue. Her hand snaked up my shoulder, and her fingers dug into my short hair as she looked at me, her eyes losing focus as I drove her to the finish. I moved my hips the right way to rub her clit, wanting to make her come quickly because we were both tired and I needed to fill her with the seed that had been sitting in the barrel all night.
Every time she’d gotten up to use the bathroom, I’d stared at her ass and wished I could stick my dick in it. When I’d watched her take a drink of her champagne and spill a drop on her chest, it had shone in the light, and I’d wanted to lick it away. Every time she’d made eye contact with me across the table, she’d eye-fucked the hell out of me. Every time a woman had looked at me, she’d looked at them, and I got off on how jealous and possessive she could be.
She detonated around me, her grip tight and powerful, and she released musical sighs that made my dick harden and my balls tighten. I watched her eyes get swept off into a distant place where she could only see stars. Then I followed her, feeling a shiver in my spine in anticipation, desperate to fill my woman with the seed I’d been wanting to plant all fucking night. I would have done it before we’d left just to mark my territory, but that hadn’t been an option.
I came with a satisfied groan, getting off on the pleasure of getting off.
She grabbed on to the top of my ass and tugged me into her as I finished because she loved my come. She never said it, but I could tell she got off on it from the way she wanted to catch every drop. She did the same when she sucked my dick, making sure she had every bit of me before she swallowed.
I pulled out and rolled onto my back. I should hop in the shower and get ready for bed, but I lay there for a while.
She’d already closed her eyes, the dress still bunched up around her waist and pulled down with her tits out. Her hair was a mess, and her makeup was a little smeared now because of the sweat we’d worked up together.
I forced myself out of bed and had a quick shower before I put on clean boxers. Then I came to her side of the bed and pulled her dress off, Francesca cooperating while her eyes remained closed, only partially awake.
I tucked her in and left her phone on the nightstand before I got into bed beside her and went to sleep.
11
WOLFE
Don Mancini gave everyone the day off.
Francesca normally went to church with her family on Sundays, but it seemed like everyone wanted to sleep in instead of dozing off on someone’s shoulder in one of the pews. That meant I got to wake up beside her and not rush off right away. I should head home and work out because I worked out every single day, no exceptions.
But today felt like an exception.
I was awake before she was, and I stayed there for a while in case she woke up soon. But when she started to snore, I knew she was knocked out cold. I quietly opened the drawer she’d given me that held all my clothes and essentials so I always had stuff when I came over. I put on my sweats and headed downstairs, the summer sunlight bright in all the windows.
I raided her fridge and found eggs and bacon and cooked them in the pan on the stove. There was a loaf of bread on the counter from yesterday, so I sliced off a few pieces and toasted them in the toaster before I plated everything.
I sat at the dining table alone and ate, looking at the flowers that bloomed in the terra-cotta pots outside the window.
She came down a couple minutes later, wearing one of my t-shirts that she’d collected. She had her own stash that she’d built when I wasn’t looking, picking her favorites and putting them in her drawer like they were hers.
Her favorites tended to be my favorites, but she could have them.
“Morning, baby.”
“Morning.” She came to me at the table and leaned over as she hooked her arms around my shoulders and squeezed.
I kissed her cheek. “There’s food in the pan for you.”
