It’s too much but not enough. I need more. Every ounce of unsatisfied lust from yesterday roars through me, increasing my desperation and heightening my senses.
“Take out my cock,” Giorgio demands.
My fingers tremble from the force of my need, but he encourages and rewards me with teasing strokes of his fingers as I unfasten his belt and work the front of his trousers open.
My clit pulses and wetness seeps through my panties.
I reach into his pants and pull out his hot, hard cock. Awe and apprehension spear through me. He’s too big, but I want him. Only him.
“Kneel in the seat and take me into your mouth,” he growls.
I whine and wriggle against his fingers.
He snarls, grabs my hips, lifts me onto my knees, pulls my upper half over the console, and holds me down by my nape before yanking my panties down and swatting my ass. I gasp at the sting only to moan as he rubs his big, warm hand over the spot until the pain morphs into pleasure and settles between my legs.
He teases his fingertips over the curve of my ass and the back of my thigh, oh so close to my pussy but nowhere near where I need him.
“C’mon, mia topolina, don’t you want to taste me again? Open your mouth.”
His tip bobs against my chin, leaving a smear of fragrant fluid behind. I sneak my tongue out and flick over the leaking slit. Despite the ocean of magma boiling in my core, indignation flares through me at the inequality of our positions, and words escape my mouth before I can think better of them.
“C’mon, my heartless jerk, don’t you want me to cum on your hand again? Touch me.”
He does. In one ruthless motion, he shoves my mouth down onto his cock and sinks two fingers into my pussy. I shriek at the unexpected yet wonderful stretch, but his thick girth flattens my tongue and invades my throat. Terror grips me, sharpening my senses and triggering my fight reflexes, but he lifts me by my hair and pulls his fingers out of my pussy. I cough and choke on my spit as he strokes over my clit with shocking accuracy. Pressure builds deep in my core. My thighs shake.
“Suck me, mia topolina. I’m already so close, but so are you, aren’t you?”
His growl pebbles my nipples and fills me with yearning. I nod and swirl my tongue around his tip, wanting to please him but too apprehensive to take more of him into my mouth. When he strokes the length of his fingers through my folds, stimulating every millimeter of my pussy, and gentles his hand in my hair, I close my lips around him and adjust my balance to wrap a hand around his shaft.
He murmurs deep, guttural praises and dips a finger past my entrance while rubbing my clit.
I whine and wiggle my hips. He pushes down on the back of my head, but when I stiffen and shake my head, he releases my hair.
He groans and wraps his fist around mine at the base of his shaft. His hand covers so much, I won’t choke if I take all that’s left jutting from his grip.
The tension drains from my shoulders. I swirl my tongue around his tip, enjoying the salty tang of his precum, and give a slow, shallow bob of my head. He hisses and pushes his finger deeper into my body.
I gasp and dip lower, taking more of him into my mouth.
He works his finger in and out of me. I mimic his rhythm, teetering on the edge of orgasm and enamored by the bunching of his thighs. When he adds a second finger and pushes deeper than before, I whimper around his shaft. His veins pulse on my lips.
“Now, mia topolina,” he growls. “Let go. Cum on my hand as you swallow every drop.”
He twists his wrist and crooks his fingers inside me, hitting the sensitive spot at the front of my channel while rubbing his thumb over my clit.
I explode. He groans as his cock jerks in my mouth. Salty, sweet fluid spurts onto my tongue. I swallow and clench around his fingers as wave after wave of euphoria crashes over me.
He pulls my face up to his and devours my mouth, staking his claim and declaring his devotion with every impatient invasion of his tongue. I give him everything. My head spins. Sticky wetness coats my thighs. His thick fingers shift inside me.
A whine escapes my throat.
“Don’t worry, mia topolina, I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
With breathtaking ease, he opens the driver’s door and pulls me out after him. I don’t know how he does it, but his fingers never leave my pussy as he gathers me to his chest and wraps my legs around his waist. His cock bobs against my ass, teasing in and out of my skirt with every step as he stalks into the townhouse.
I don’t recall hearing the car door shut and don’t know where my panties are, but I lose the will to care as he shoulders the door to the living room open.
Peace settles over me as the unique ambiance of the house infiltrates my senses until Giorgio commands my full attention by pressing my back against the wall and dominating my mouth. With teeth and tongue, he scrambles my mind and reawakens my urgency.
I writhe and clutch at his shoulders as he curls his fingers inside me.
The world spins. He sits me on the armrest and leans me back on the couch. With my ass higher than my head, my skirt falls up my torso and all the blood rushes to my face. He wedges his shoulders between my knees and licks my clit. Lightning spears through me. It’s too intense. Too close to pain. I don’t think I like it.
He licks me again and thrusts his fingers in and out of me. I scream, arch, and fight for freedom.
After stepping out from between my knees and moving them to one side, he flings me over his shoulder—with his digits still lodged in my pussy—and carries me into the kitchen. I hiss as he lays me out on the cold counter, but he parts my legs in a reverse move from the one before, settles his hips between them and covers me with his bulk. He demands another kiss. Trapped between granite and hard muscles, I groan and grab his nape as our tongues duel.
He’s wearing too many clothes. I wrench his collar apart. Buttons skitter over the counter and ping onto the floor. I pull again until the fabric parts and shove it off his shoulders.
The jerk still has another shirt underneath.
He mashes my clit with the palm of his hand and curls his fingers inside me as he grabs my breast. My blouse and bra muffle the sensation, but the strength in his hand scrambles my thoughts.
I work the bottom hem of his shirt up his torso and growl when his arms prevent me from lifting it higher.
He ends our kiss and pulls it over his head and off one arm, but leaves it hanging from his shoulder, refusing to remove his fingers from my depths. Tattoos cover his arms and torso. His cock stands tall and thick from his open trousers. My mouth waters with the need to taste and explore.
He growls, studies me with heavy-lidded eyes, and licks his lips.
“You gonna cum from just looking at me, Aurora?”
“Hmm? What?”
“Your pussy just clenched around my fingers. Mio Dio, there you go again. Unbutton your blouse and show me those tits. I need to taste them before I feel you squeeze my cock like this.”
I can’t deny him, not when his eyes worship me, so I slip the buttons free and slowly reveal more and more of my flesh.
He’s right. I might orgasm just by watching him.
“Fucking hell, Aurora, you’re too perfect. Cum on my fingers again while I’ve got you splayed out on the kitchen counter like a feast.”
He works his fingers in and out of my body. I writhe until he pins my lower belly to the counter with his other hand and strokes his thumb over my clit.
I implode. My mind fragments. Wonderful pain spreads from my core outward until my entire body throbs in relief. Sweat trickles down my temple.
“Good girl. That was fucking perfect, mia topolina. Now show me those breasts.”
His thick rumble sounds above, below, and inside me. He melts my bones. Heats my blood. Becomes my entire universe.
I pull my blouse out of my skirt waistband, unfasten the front closure of my bra, and push the fabrics off my shoulders. His low groan reawakens my desire.
I squeak as he slides his rock-hard forearm under me and lifts my shoulders off the granite.
“Mine.”
I die a quadrillion beautiful deaths as he licks, sucks, and nibbles my breasts with hunger in every bite, until each touch streaks to my core and becomes too much. He snarls when I push against his shoulders.
“Please stop, Giorgio. It hurts.”
He lifts his head and studies my face before a devilish smirk twists his swollen lips. I whimper when he pulls me off the counter, pressing our chests together and forcing his fingers deeper into my pussy as I wrap my legs around his waist.
My shirt and bra tangle together on my arms and trap my elbows to my sides as he carries me up the stairs and into the bedroom. Needy, helpless sounds escape my throat as he lays me on the bed and grabs my breast, pinning my upper half to the comforter. I jackknife as he brushes his thumbs over my nipple and clit in tandem. When he spreads his fingers inside me, I push at his shoulders and try to curl in on myself, but my shirt and his unyielding strength keep me right where he wants me.
“Let’s get this pretty little pussy ready for my big cock, yeah?”
I instinctually shake my head, even though I want to give him everything.
My hair splays over the bed and sticks to my sweaty temples. He tweaks my nipple and drops his eyes to watch his two fingers disappear into my body. I moan and tilt my hips. He spreads his digits. My toes tingle. Fresh arousal coats his fingers. His cock brushes against my inner thigh. I whine.
He adds a third finger. I open my mouth, but no sound emerges. The stretching hurts so good.
Too much. Not enough.
His eyes darken and cheeks flush as his cock leaks on my leg. I strain as his knuckles stretch my entrance.
He pulls out and wraps his drenched fist around his cock. I watch in fascination as he strokes himself from root to tip, coating himself in my arousal.
My heart lurches into my throat as he fits his bulbous head to my entrance, but he groans and rubs his tip over my entire slit, bumping my clit and earning himself a gasp.
I clench my fists at my sides, desperate to touch him but too far gone for words.
After a few epic strokes of my clit with his tip, he presses the first half an inch of his cock into me.
My animalistic whine fills the air. He groans and wrenches the fabric off my arms.
“Fucking hell, I need your hands on me. Touch me. Scratch me. Bite me. Whatever you need, Aurora. I can’t hold back anymore.”
True to his word, he grabs my hips and surges into me.
Agony overrides my pleasure. I gouge his forearms with my nails and wedge my knees against his stomach, trying to push him away, but he’s too strong. He pulls back before thrusting impossibly deeper into my body. I scratch, fight, and sob until he pushes my legs off his torso and drops forward to bracket my head with his hands. Surrounded and filled by him, I cry and writhe as he murmurs apologies and praises against my temple, ear, and throat.
When he takes my mouth with the same fervor he claims my pussy, every ounce of pain in my body morphs to pleasure. The sudden flip scrambles my response. I push and pull, scratch and caress, gasp and grunt, and bite and lick without rhyme or reason, desperate for so many things, I don’t know what I’m asking for.
He gives me everything. Every inch of his cock. Every ounce of his power. Every orgasm my body can muster. Every drop of his release. Every piece of his soul.
Silent tears trail over my temples as his cock jerks inside me. He holds me close, as though I’m something precious, and murmurs sweet words into my hair.
In the most profound and intimate moment of my life, I realize there’s only one word to encompass the way I feel for Giorgio Vivaldi.
Love. I love him.
The jerk made me fall in love with him. He gave me no choice. He gave me everything.
Guilt sweeps through me. I haven’t given him anything. I’ve omitted so many things.
Two could destroy everything.
One isn’t important right now. I’ve been healthy for years and show no symptoms, so my medical issues can wait.
Tristan cannot. He’s in danger.
“What’s wrong, mia topolina? Did I hurt you?” Giorgio asks as he strokes my hair back from my sweaty temple.
“No, you didn’t. I just… I l—” the word gets stuck in my throat.
His pleasure-laden eyes soften further.
“It’s okay, Aurora. I know. I love you, too.”
His declaration stuns me into nodding, but I sob and shake my head when I realize how much is at stake.
“I lied to you!”
Surprise wipes the lazy joy from his eyes.
“But I don’t want your money, or your empire, or to trap you, or anything like that. I lied to protect Tristan,” I beg him to understand.
He quirks a brow and rubs his thumb over my cheekbone, still propped on his elbows with his cock lodged deep inside my body.
“What lie did you tell me?”
The menace in his tone sends a chill down my spine even as his invasion stretches and wakes dormant parts of me.
“It’s not what I told you, but what I didn’t tell you,” I say.
He brushes my hair back from my face and tilts his hips, grinding our joined bodies against each other. I gasp as my overworked organs throb with a mix of pain and pleasure.
“What did you not tell me?” he asks.
“I’m the Achilles heir. Tristan’s father is Otello Tempe, not Horatio Achilles, but—”
Giorgio covers my mouth with his palm and wraps his long, thick fingers around my face.
Panic grips me until I realize my ragged breaths blow over the back of his hand. I pull my nails out of his back and search his expression.
My heart quails at the coldness in his eyes, and my pleasure gives way to discomfort as he puts emotional distance between us. With our bodies still locked together, his impersonal expression hurts.
“How do you know? When did you find out, and who else knows?”
He shifts his hand, tightens his grip on my face, and lean closer.
“If you say anything other than those three answers, I’m walking away. I don’t want to cross a line I can’t uncross. Capisci, Aurora?”
I nod. He lifts his hand. I take a deep, shaky breath before answering.
“I ran DNA tests on my family about five years ago. I think Otello suspects Tristan is his, but I don’t think he knows for sure.”
“Where are the results?”
“Hidden and encrypted. I’m the only one who can read the files.”
“Why’d you check for paternity?” he asks.
“I… My mom… I don’t think it was consensual. I think my uncle is why she locks our doors at night.”
“He lives with you?”
“On the third floor. Yesterday was the—”
All the air rushes from my lungs as he rises, taking his warmth and leaving me empty and alone.
“You’re not going back into that house,” he snarls as he stomps toward the bathroom. The play of his ass muscles as his trousers bunch underneath the firm globes and the bobbing of his drenched half-hard cock distract me, but warm wetness seeps from between my legs. I pull the corner of the comforter over me and glare at his back.
“My father will kill Tristan if he finds out. I can’t leave my brother there alone when he’s in danger!”
Giorgio’s massive frame barrels back toward me. I squeak as he pins me to the mattress.
“You are in danger, Aurora. Have you ever stopped to wonder what your uncle would do to you if he found out you knew? If he wants his son to inherit everything, I doubt marrying you off would be his first choice.”
I shake my head. He closes his fist around my throat, but I hiss and push against his chest.
“No one would ever accept me as the Achilles heir while Tristan is alive.” He quirks an eyebrow as though I’m stupid. I whack his shoulder. “Then why are you the Vivaldi heir and not your older sister?”
“Because I am a Vivaldi.” He’s too loud. Too angry. Too close. “Tristan is not an Achilles. If anyone—”
“Don’t shout at me!” I yell as panic washes over me.
There’s light. His body is warm over mine, but he’s much bigger than Tristan’s newborn body. My aunt isn’t screaming. I’m okay.
His mouth closes over mine, and I kiss him with every ounce of desperation trapped within my nightmares. When he pulls back, tears wet my face and misery squeezes my chest.
“This doesn’t change our plans, Giorgio,” I begin, despite the emotions clogging my throat. “I can’t abandon my brother, and we can’t kidnap him without starting a war, but I needed to tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. We can null the prenup. I don’t want—”
“I don’t care about the fucking prenup, Aurora. I care about you. I can rebuild wealth, but I can’t replace you. I love you, mia topolina, you smart, stubborn, frustrating woman. I need you.”
Too many emotions burst from me. As he pulls me into his lap with the comforter bundled around me, I respond to his declaration of love the way I wish I’d gotten to the first time.
“I love you, Giorgio. Please don’t hate me. I need you, too.”
“I could never hate you, Aurora.”
“Promise?” It’s shameless of me to ask, but I need his affirmation.
“Promise,” he says.
I pull his lips down to mine and seal his promise with a kiss.
He’s a man of his word, after all. It’s sneaky and dirty to pull a promise from him without revealing my health issues, but I’m too strung out to handle more, and I’m desperate enough to use the dirty play.
I need and love Giorgio Vivaldi, and I’ll do anything to protect and support him, even if it means risking my health and safety.
I now have two people to love and care for. Tristan and I aren’t alone anymore.
We have Giorgio Vivaldi, the most ruthless, protective, and trustworthy mafia don in all of New York City.
