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As his need grows, he shows no mercy, sucking and biting my sensitive flesh until I’m an aching mess beneath him.
Just as we’re about to orgasm, he pulls away from me and comes to lie on top of me, so we're face to face. I let out a groan as he feathers kisses over my neck and jaw before locking eyes with me.
“You’re killing me,” I complain.
With a knowing smirk, Armani fills me slowly with his hardness, then he stills deep inside me. “I love how much you need my cock.” His palm brushes up and down my side, the look in his eyes pure affection. “I love you, Tiana,” he murmurs, his tone a little hoarse. “I love you so much I can’t function in a world where I don’t have you. I can’t sleep without feeling you beneath me and being buried inside you. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. There will always be only you.”
Lifting my hands to his face, I cup his jaw, and with my mouth an inch from his, I whisper, “I love you. You’re my home. I couldn’t sleep either. I missed feeling your breath on my neck and your weight covering me.”
Our mouths fuse together, and slower than usual, Armani makes love to me. It’s much more intense and loaded with emotions, and by the time we find our release, everything feels right in the world again.
Armani gives me one last kiss before pulling out of me and going to the bathroom.
I sit up and stretch out before getting out of bed. While I get ready for the day, Armani beats me to the kitchen.
I’m surprised when he hands me a cup of tea, then he explains, “I noticed you didn’t drink coffee yesterday and figured it’s not good for the baby. So tea it is.”
I take a sit and give him a satisfied smile. “I can get used to this, Mr. De Santis.”
He lets out a chuckle. “That’s the plan, bella.”
We enjoy our beverages in the courtyard, watching as the sun rises. When Misha finally wakes up, Armani prepares breakfast for us while my brother and I sit at the kitchen table.
Armani places a single flower beside my croissant, and kissing the top of my head, he murmurs, “Enjoy, amore mia.”
“Hmm,” Misha grumbles, “Someone’s going to be spoiled rotten.”
I grin at him before I take a bite of my pastry. “Someone’s going to enjoy every second of it.”
The men chuckle, but the happy atmosphere doesn’t last long, because Armani says, “Makarova called in the middle of the night.” His eyes lock with Misha’s. “Turns out he’s behind the fucking shit show.”
“What the fuck?” Misha growls. “Seriously?”
With a thirst for vengeance darkening his eyes, Armani nods. “Luca is talking to Viktor. It sounds like the bratva and mafia will band together to take out the fucker.”
“As long as I get a minute with him,” Misha mutters.
“You can get your minute,” Armani replies, his tone deep and dangerous, giving me goosebumps, “But I finish him off.”
For a moment, I pity Karlin, but then I remember what he’s done, and I hope he suffers severely at the hands of the men in my life.
Chapter 42
Armani
After leaving Tiana with my mother and aunt at St. Monarch’s, where we met up with Alek, Viktor, and Luca, we traveled to Russia with an army of men.
Gathering in a bratva-owned warehouse before shit goes down, my muscles are wound tight, and I can’t wait to get my hands on Makarov.
Today the fucker dies.
Viktor got his hands on plans for Makarova’s property.
“We’ll attack in two groups. Twenty men from the back of the property and twenty from the front,” Viktor instructs while indicating on the map. “Luca and Armani will lead the mafia, of course.” Viktor glances up to look at Misha and Alek. “The bratva follows me.”
“Yes, sir,” we all chorus.
“We need to move fast to keep the element of surprise on our side,” Luca says. “That’s if the fucker isn’t expecting us.”
“He’d be stupid not to,” I mutter.
“Check your weapons before we head out,” Viktor orders. “And for God’s sake, don’t fucking shoot me during all the action.”
Some of us chuckle.
“Radio check,” Luca says, and for the next minute, we all make sure we can communicate with each other.
Viktor nods, then orders, “Let’s head out.”
Under the cover of darkness, we all pile into SUVs and form a convoy as we drive to Makarova’s house. We stop in a side street, and when we all get out, I notice a woman peaking through her curtains before yanking them shut.
Alek notices as well and says, “Don’t worry, brother. Even if we blow up Makarova’s house, no one will come out.”
“Good,” I mutter.
“Let’s go kill some fuckers,” he grins at me.
Misha pats Alek’s back. “Leave some for us.”
Alek shrugs and chuckles. “I’ll leave Makarova for you. The rest are fair game.”
