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And still I won’t have had enough of her. I never will.
We’re wrapped up in the moment as I slowly pull my entire cock out of her and then sink all the way back in. Once again, we’re experiencing it all over—the deep penetration that steals our breath away and makes her shudder.
It makes me grunt and my muscles clench.
I repeat the motion several more times. Slow and unhurried, deep and intense. It’s torture for us both as we gleam with sweat and gasp breaths choked with anticipation.
But it creates a gradual friction that builds. Our pelvises grind every time I slide myself whole. Her pussy walls pulse and tighten around me and her clit brushes up against me.
“Fuck,” she whines, arching at the tease of it. “Jon… I’m going to… oh! I’m going to come.”
“Do it. Come for me,” I growl, lost in my own pleasure. “Coat my dick with your juices. Then I’m going to fill you up with my cum. Then you’re going to suck it off.”
Her second orgasm arrives at my command. She breaks apart with a pleasured cry and rack of her body. I’m seconds behind her. Truthfully, so fucking hard and turned on I was ready to come from the first deep thrust inside her.
I make good on my promise and fill her up with my release. So much, she leaks by the time I’m pulling out, my flesh hot and mind fuzzy from the intense pleasure that’s hit me.
But I’m still vaguely aware of what I want to do next.
I climb up her body and feed her my cum-smeared cock. Delphine holds my gaze as she sucks the length into her mouth, the naughtiest glint in her dark eyes. I groan and almost question whether I want to let her leave the bed at all today.
Spending the whole day fucking suddenly sounds a lot more urgent than any meeting with mafia families.
It wouldn’t be the first time we lost track of time and fucked an entire morning or afternoon away.
Eventually, we find the resolve to get out of bed and clean ourselves up. We still spare time to share in a hot shower before we split up and dress for our day.
Delphine slides into a form-fitting belted dress that’s designed to be classy and professional, but looks sexy as hell on her slim, pear-shaped curves. I shrug on a white dress shirt and do up the buttons. Since today I have an important meeting with the Kozlovs and Giancolas, I’m changing it up from my usual black t-shirt and dark denim.
I kiss Delphine goodbye on the mouth. “Dinner?”
She smiles. “I’ll be waiting.”
I squeeze her ass because I can. “I’m more excited for dessert.”
“If you don’t stop! Before you start something all over again.” She laughs, and then as I move to leave, she adds, “Good luck today. With your meeting.”
“You too,” I say, winking at her. “Win big.”
We depart on a power couple vibe. Delphine to her law office. Me to my club to meet up with fellow mafia bosses.
Our lives couldn’t be any better. The perfect balance that fits us like a glove. And to think, this is only the beginning of our marital life.
It’s a thought that energizes me as I stride out the loft and officially start my day.
* * *
“I refuse!” Vladmir Kozlov barks, slamming a heavy fist into the table. “You made a promise that there would be no changes. Now you are saying the opposite. I will not stand for deception.”
“Deception?” sneers Nick Giancola from where he sits collapsed in his chair. He’s an informal man, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, and the tie undone and draped from his neck. The wrinkles in his suit and bloodshot red of his eyes hint that he was up through the night before attending this meeting in the morning. He flicks his lighter, igniting a flame and then putting it out the next second. “If you call fair distribution deception, that’s on you, Vlad. We’re all supposed to play nice. But you’d rather be a selfish SOB.”
“Your Italian dramatics will not be tolerated!”
Nick hacks out a laugh, tossing his head back. “My dramatics? What the fuck do you call pounding the table? You’ve got a fucking vein popping out on your temple, you Russian bastard.”
“That is all the disrespect I will take!”
Kozlov slams both fists onto the table and leaps up from his chair with such aggression that he knocks it over. Recognizing the cue from their leader, his men step in on his behalf. They swarm toward Nick Giancola with expressions of violent composure stitched across their faces. Nick’s hardly worried—the small crew he’s brought along tighten their wall around him.
