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“We’re quite the fucking pair. Both married. Me because that bitch lied to me and trapped me. You because your old ass dying husband didn’t want to be alone in his final days.”
“Don’t be so cruel,” she says, passing the joint she just took a hit off to me.
I take a couple of deep puffs before passing it back to her.
“Not cruel. Just honest.”
She takes a couple of puffs and passes it back to me. When I finish, I pull her into my arms, blowing smoke into her mouth.
She flops down on her belly, and I repeatedly rub my hand over her ass.
Serena’s husband, Lorenzo Bernardi, hired Serena as his cook ten years ago. She’d been cooking for him for five years when he added to her salary if she would be his companion to various functions. In need of the money at the time, she’d taken him up on the offer.
A year after that, he’d proposed to her, telling her that she was the best thing that had happened to him. He said she showed him a love his family wasn’t willing to give. While he wasn’t expecting her to have sex with him, he did indeed want a wife for his last years. She’d been reticent to agree until he’d kept at her.
Serena had asked his adult children and siblings to visit him but no one wanted to see the cranky old man. Out of sympathy, she gave in and married him. He changed his will so that she would inherit every penny upon his death. In the marriage contract, he even included a clause stating that he wanted his wife to seek sexual fulfillment outside the marriage because he could not nor did he want to provide her with it.
Lorenzo is a business partner of my father’s. At a dinner at Lorenzo’s house one night when we were all there, Alessandro asked if he could pay his personal compliments to the cook. From there, he’d hired her as his chef to work four days a week. That’s how I met her.
No one knows about our affair though. Not that she has to hide it, but I have every reason to.
“That was good. I could float on air now, Marco. You’re good for my body and soul,” she says with her face buried in the pillow.
Smacking her ass, I say, “Get that ass up in the air. I’m not done with you yet.”
“Marcoooo,” she whines, doing what I say.
I part her ass cheeks and get right behind her.
“This ass is tight and sweet, girl.”
“No, Marco. Please, not tonight.”
I growl, running my fingers over her pussy before I part her and slide inside.
“Ahhh, you feel so good,” she moans.
“Just like I like it. Soft, wet, and hot,” I grunt, sliding deeper inside her.
She closes around me and seeing how I sink inside her is enough to drive me wild. I pick up speed. My balls are slapping against her as I hammer her insides, loving how she feels wrapped around me.
Our breathing is rough, ragged, and loud in the room. The headboard is banging loudly against the wall, and Serena’s losing the arch in her back. I reach underneath and lift her again, furiously knocking and slamming into her.
I know that at this rate, her pussy will be red and sore for the next couple of days. That’s just how I like it. She’ll stay that way long enough until we see each other again, and I can do it all over again.
We will never have more than this, and we’re fine with it. We don’t love each other. She will never commit to a member of La Famiglia.
And me? I’m not capable of love.
There’s a louder banging that I’m starting to hear over the headboard. I feel a gust of wind on my ass and look over my shoulders, but I don’t stop fucking this pussy. Can’t stop.
My younger brother and Serena’s boss, Alessandro, stands in the doorway.
“The fuck!” I holler.
He turns his back as though he expected to find the two of us together; as though he’s not shocked that I’m fucking his cook.
“Marco, get your clothes on.”
