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Unfortunately, he no longer pleasures me that way no matter how much I beg.
Luca grabs my face, and his kisses become more passionate and demanding. He rocks in and out of me and shifts slightly allowing me to reposition my right leg and bring it around his back to meet my other leg.
How he drives himself inside of me and stretches me is so satisfying that I wish this moment would never end. Unfortunately, it will at some point.
The reality is that I will have to return home to my cold, unloving home and my distant and distracted husband. What I wouldn’t give for Marco to look at me the way he did when we first met. If I could have him touch me that way again, have him speak to me that way again, and call me “il desiderio del mio cuore” again.
None of that is to be. Why? Because I became desperate, I lied to my husband. I betrayed Marco as a friend, lover, and potential husband. Marco “Il Maniaco” DeLuca is an unforgiving and unyielding man. After eighteen years of marriage, one would have thought he would have forgiven me for my untimely deception and trickery, but he hasn’t.
“Baby,” Luca whispers as he plunges deeper inside of me. “How long do I have with you this time?”
I know that Luca knows how long Marco will be gone. There almost isn’t a move Marco makes without telling Luca, his right-hand man and best friend.
“He’ll be away for two weeks. Where does he think you are?” I ask.
Luca accompanies Marco on out-of-town trips whenever possible, but lately, Luca’s been making excuses to get out of those trips.
“London and Switzerland. Family business.”
My eyes widen with the shock of how he stretches me and the pain that bursts forth in my abdomen. Luca is a large man. Compared to Marco, he’s as big and almost as wide as my husband. Unlike Marco, Luca is a merciful lover not taking out his rage, frustration, and anger on my body when I allow him inside.
That’s a joke. I don’t allow Marco inside. He takes what he wants; what I would freely give. Only he seldom does anymore.
I know all about his whores especially the one he’s taken to lately. He keeps her at his brother Alessandro’s house and visits her whenever possible. She’s a married woman too but that hasn’t stopped Marco before.
I’m starting to worry though because he seems preoccupied with her more than with any of the others. There was only one other woman that he would place before me. Only one other woman made him forget that I existed altogether.
That woman was the one that lured me out of Italy and having me follow my husband on a trip to America. That woman was the one I saw him escorting from Alessandro’s restaurant all those years ago and taking her to his apartment in Atlanta, Georgia.
That was the same woman that he continued to see for two fucking years! The entire time he was with her, he didn’t touch me.
I don’t mind the occasional fling. I’ve become accustomed to those. I don’t want my husband to fall in love with another woman. If I can’t have Marco’s heart, neither can they.
Luca’s fiery tongue licks down my collarbone, forcing thoughts of Marco and his women out of my head. His hands roam over my body; gripping, squeezing, and caressing as he rises and lowers again.
With every descent into the dark recesses of my body, Luca makes me feel like a treasured woman. One who needs and deserves to be loved. Why can’t I love him the way that I love Marco? Why can’t I love Luca the way that he loves me?
Because the two of us could never be. Not in this lifetime. Marco wouldn’t have it.
“Are you okay with what we’re going to do, my love?” Luca asks.
“Yes, and you have to be too. It’s the only way,” I mutter against his lips.
Luca’s eyes darken, and he nods while his forehead rubs against mine.
“God, I want you so badly,” he moans as he plows into me again.
We take freely from each other while enjoying the pleasure we receive from these stolen moments. Thanks to Marco’s newest tryst and distraction, we've had more of them lately but that’s not what I want. I want my husband; all of him.
And though I enjoy Luca's attention, the way he pleasures my body and listens attentively to my conversation, he could never be Marco DeLuca. He could never replace my husband in my heart or in my bed. He could never have my soul the way Marco has captivated it since we met at the tender age of sixteen.
It doesn’t mean that he can’t give me what I need at this moment though, and he does as he slams forcefully into my body, rocketing me to places unknown. Within seconds, we’ve been catapulted over the edge, and our dynamic collision forces us to cry as we orgasm.
When we’re finished, Luca moves to grab and prepare a cigar for smoking. I turn over onto my side closing my eyes and wondering how I will fix this predicament. Because Marco isn’t accepting what I’m telling him, something has to give.
Now that he knows I’m pregnant, he refuses to believe this child is his. Only he must. If the truth were to be known, this child, Luca, nor myself would have any chance at survival.
Marco “The Maniac” DeLuca would kill us all.
