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“I’ll go slow,” Dom mutters, a pained look crossing his face as he backs off, withdrawing until only the tip of him is left inside her.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Dominic Barese,” Willow growls. She reaches back to wrap her arms around his neck, looking at him upside down. “If you pull out I’ll find one of Chef Luca’s knives and start stabbing indiscriminately. Fuck. Me. Now. Please,” she adds, like an afterthought.
Knowing what she did with those same knives to the last man who betrayed her, that’s not an empty threat.
“My girl.” I smirk over her head where she still glares at him.
“My fucking pleasure, ma’am.” Dom grips her hips tight, his hands covering mine as he slams back in to fill her hilt-deep.
If her sounds before worked us up, her scream unleashes something hellish in my father’s room.
We pound her tiny body, lifting her between us as she screams her orgasm that runs in a never-ending stream. Our cocks rub together, increasing the friction until she pulses, bearing down hard. A hot gush covers us in her bliss, her body going limp, skin to skin to skin.
Those flutters along our lengths fuck us both up royally. My need rips from my throat as I bellow my orgasm to the black painted ceiling, Dom echoing my roar with his own a moment later.
Which is how we find ourselves tangled around each other on the floor some unspecified time later, our clothed bodies still joined, Willow naked and purring softly between us.
I find her mouth with mine as Dom kisses along the slope of her neck. “Sweetheart, come back to me for a second. Are you hurting?”
“I don’t think I could feel pain at this point.” She stretches languidly, wrapping an arm around each of us.
“Is that so?” Dom asks, checking a glance at me.
I nod, dipping to kiss her mouth. “We need to get rid of these clothes.”
“Why are you still wearing clothes?” Willow’s confused voice matches my sentiment.
“Exactly. They have to go.”
“Why?” She raises dozy, bedroom just fucked eyes to me, and frowns.
“Because, raven.” I kiss her sweetly, feeling my cock thicken alongside Dom’s inside her tight cunt. A deep moan leaves her kiss-bitten lips as she writhes, her pussy already pulsing at the double intrusion.
“We’re not done.”
Chapter Two
Bitter Betrayal
Willow
Why the hell do people wear black to funerals? I know it’s a sad occasion and that we’re mourning the loss of a life but Cyprus is much too hot to be wearing black on a day like today. The sun beats down on us as we stand in the familial graveyard to lay my father-in-law, Armand Gallo, to rest for the second time since his death. We had a service in the States but his body has been transported back to Cyprus to rest with his wife and family.
My black dress clings to my back where sweat trickles along my spine. I have no idea how Rafe and Dom can stand this heat in the three-piece suits they are wearing. Rafe’s sister, Regina, clings to me as her body wracks with sobs once more. Neither of his children may have been overly fond of their father, but both loved him deeply.
The casket is lowered into the dark earth. Rafe takes a handful of the moist dirt and sprinkles it across the lacquered wood before stepping aside. The men gathered follow suit while the women each throw a single white rose down the hole. Before I know it the funeral is over and we are in the back of a luxurious limousine, blasted by icy air-conditioning, being taken to the family compound here on the island.
I want nothing more than to grab Rafe’s hand and drag him back to the private jet so we can head home, but I know this needs to be done. Family members, blood, and business alike, will swarm the compound to pay their last respects and to figure out where they will end up in the line of succession now that Armand is gone.
Rafe is stoic and stiff as he stares out the window at the passing scenery. I had hoped last night and this morning would help alleviate some of the tightness in my husband but it doesn’t seem to have done the trick. Taking his hand in mine, I intertwine our fingers and give a gentle squeeze. His gaze finds mine and I smile softly, offering him comfort, hopefully. His nod is quick before he returns to the window but his fingers tighten around mine and I know he appreciates the small gesture.
The silence is deafening in the confined space, and although it is hotter than hell outside I breathe a sigh of relief the moment we finally reach our destination. Rafe takes his time allowing me out of the limo before pressing his hand to my lower back and escorting me into the palatial mansion Armand once called home. We haven’t been here since arriving in Cyprus, Rafe electing to stay at the villa he always uses, so this is my first look at the decadent opulence of the Gallo Estate.
Upon entering the place I’m instantly transposed into an old-school mafia movie. The tiles are marble with a dual staircase running up the center, the wallpaper is embossed and flaked with golden accents. Several statues line the foyer and—I shit you not—a fucking water fountain takes pride of place. It is insane and over the top and so much Armand that I feel my eyes tearing up. I may not have known the man well, but he made a massive impact in my life and I will miss him more than words can express.
We enter a sitting area which is decorated in the same gaudy way, where Rafe leads me to a burgundy velvet couch before taking a seat beside me. To my left, Regina joins us, along with Dominic. I have found my gaze often strays to the large man, knowing what is beneath his pressed suit, but never lingering too long. Last night was fun but today I need to focus.
Mere moments after we are seated a man hurries over to bring us each a tumbler of rich amber liquid before scurrying away once more. A sniff of the contents has a smile kicking up the side of my lips. Armand’s favorite cognac.
