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My eyebrow raises in response. “Excuse me?” The question tumbles off my tongue before I can stop it. I’m not opposed to having sex with Willow, I just didn’t expect it.
Willow peels off her shirt and lets it fall in the blood drying on the floor. As she attempts to wiggle out of her pants, she gives me a pleading look. “I’ve thought about nothing but having sex with you since that night. And when I was looking at his body,” she gestures toward Fredo, “I knew that you were the only person I could trust to help me. I need you, Alessandro, in ways that I can’t quite understand.”
The lace of her panties paints a delicious picture on her ass. I am transfixed by the curve of her bottom as she clears away the items on the desk in front of her.
“He said I whored myself out to you,” Willow says with a frown as she leans over the desk. The way her ass is positioned makes me even harder. “But I did what I had to do for my family. That’s what I’ve always done,” she mumbles. And I know she’s thinking about Ricardo and the secrets that she kept for him. She never told anyone about his abuse or violence because she was his wife. She kept him safe even when it came at a cost to her happiness. “But I don’t have a family anymore, Alessandro. I lost my husband. I lost my baby. I’m on the cusp of losing everything I’ve ever known. So give me this.”
Willow tosses a look over her shoulder and her eyes are dilated with lust. “Fuck me as I look at that man’s corpse. I want you inside of me making me scream while I can see the consequences of my actions.”
She’s one fucked up broad. And it makes me love her even more.
I’m behind her before I can stop myself. I don’t care that my shoes might have tiptoed into Fredo’s blood, I’ll buy new ones. All that matters is that I’m giving Willow what she wants.
I unbutton my pants and shove them down as far as they’ll go. I do the same with her panties, exposing a wet spot between her legs. Despite her obvious arousal, I lick my fingers and run them through her center before grabbing my cock and pressing it to her entrance.
Willow fucking Carbone. I knew when she was fifteen that she would make me the happiest man alive. But if I would have married her at eighteen, she wouldn’t be this way. She wouldn’t know violence and enjoy seeing it inflicted upon others. She wouldn’t have a dark side. She wouldn’t succumb to her desires when the feelings arose. Willow would have had a happy life with me, but it’s her life with Ricardo that’s made her this way.
I slip inside her wet center and dig my hands into her hips. She tightens around me like a vice and I power through the desire to orgasm by thrusting my hips back and forth. Willow reaches forward to grab the edge of the desk and I see her head pointed at Fredo.
I don’t know what she gets out of being fucked while looking at his dead body, but I bet she feels powerful. Nothing’s better after a murder than a good, hard fuck. I might have dreamt about marrying Willow for over a decade, but I wasn’t abstinent. I fucked my way through a dozen paid women. I knew that I’d get my woman eventually, it was just a matter of time.
I string together a series of dirty things to whisper in Willow’s ear. “One of these days we’ll kill someone together. Tear out his intestines and bathe in his blood. As you gasp for pleasure, he’ll gasp for life. I’ll make all of your dark desires come true.”
Willow’s knuckles turn white as she holds onto the desk. She throws her ass back at me every time I draw my hips back. I slam into her with all the force of a man possessed. I’ve never wanted to fuck someone while a dead body lay a few feet away, but now I don’t know if I’ll ever go back. There’s something intrinsically empowering about having an orgasm in front of someone that will never breathe again.
I pray for a baby once more. As I fill Willow with my seed again, I hope that she’ll see reason soon enough. She could run her own family and make a name for herself, but she’ll be more powerful by my side. The Parodi family can start again with a new leader, but the Giovanni family would be unstoppable with Willow riding shotgun. I can make her a queen. I can make her the deadliest woman in America.
“Marry me,” I whisper in the dregs of my orgasm.
Willow’s grip on the desk has loosened and she presses her cheek to the cool wood before responding. “Maybe.”
It isn’t a yes, but it isn’t a no, either.
13
WILLOW
Ishould buy stock in the pregnancy test industry. There’s at least $100 worth of tests littered across the counter and I’m seriously considering doubling my investment. “There’s no fucking way. No. Fucking. Way.” Anger envelopes me in a hug as I push through the dried pee sticks. Out of 11 tests, at least one of them has to be negative. What is the likelihood that all eleven of them would be positive?
Pretty high if you’re pregnant,the annoying little voice in my head says in a singsong fashion. I glare at myself in the mirror, the only option I have to show my frustration toward the voice.
I know I wasn’t careful. But my doctor said the odds of getting pregnant so quickly after a miscarriage were low. Or maybe he saidnotto get pregnant for a few months. I can’t remember which now. The timeline is running together.
Deep breath,the little voice cancels.You’ve always wanted a baby.Yes, but I wanted a baby with my husband, not the man that had my husband killed. Okay, that’s a lie. I wanted a baby so I could love and cherish something that loved and cherished me back. I didn’t necessarily want it to be Ricardo’s child, but if that was the only option, I would have accepted it.
“God, this is a nightmare,” I groan. I push my back up against the wall and slide down slowly until I’m eye-to-eye with the door handles on the cabinet. With my pale face no longer looking back at me in misery from throwing up for the last three days, I can think straight.
My husband died in April. Easter had just passed and I remember looking at some nice pictures of his nieces and nephews online earlier that day. Then the call came in that he’d been shot and I was rushed to the hospital.
In July I met with Alessandro to bring peace to the families. And instead of having a professional dinner, I let him fuck me on the dinner table. Worse things have happened to me, certainly, but that was probably what started all this.
A few weeks later at the beginning of August, I slipped up and called him again. To be fair, I needed his assistance in covering up Fredo’s death. But that didn’t go as planned either. Instead, I let him bend me over my dead husband’s desk and fuck me while Fredo’s steaming corpse lay ten feet away.
The last six weeks have passed with a different sort of regularity than before. While Fredo’s death still seems to be spoken about in the dark corners and hidden shadows of the family, no one has outright asked me what happened. Not even Michael, who had to lie about his whereabouts the day of Fredo’s death and say that he was with me the entire time. Plenty of people thought he’d gotten rid of my former advisor and bodyguard and that is quite honestly my only regret.
But in between spending time with Michael trying to figure out what the next step for the Parodi family is, I’ve been seeing Alessandro. Is it my fault that I’ve allowed him to fuck me bareback two or three times a week for the last month and a half? Or is it his for not bothering to wear a condom? “I should have gone on birth control,” I grumble. Taking a pesky little pill every morning would have solved all my problems.
But is this really a problem?The little voice asks.
