Page 103 of Mafia Mistress

Chapter Twenty-Five

Francesca

“I think my ass is sunburned,”I said as we rode back toward the stables.

He smirked, looking very pleased with himself. And why wouldn’t he? I had just fucked him stupid out in a pasture under some olive trees. Between my legs was a sticky mess, but it had been worth it.

“Or perhaps it is red from the spanking I gave you last night.”

Right. Of course, he would remember that.

I grinned and tilted my face up toward the sun. It was hot but there was a nice breeze, which Fausto said came off the ocean.

Today has been one of the best days in a long time. I loved being on a horse again, and Fausto explained the various plots of land and the animals they raised as we rode. His knowledge of the estate never failed to impress me. It was clear that he loved the land, and from the stories he told he’d obviously spend a lot of time out here.

We had stopped for a bite to eat, which Fausto produced from a bag tied to his horse. There were olives and figs, cured meats and cheeses. And one of Zia’s pastries, because he knew how much I loved them. We shared ciró from a bottle, except for when Fausto dribbled some on my naked breasts and licked it off.

He undressed me slowly, then put me on top of him. I had a thing for being naked while he was clothed—a kink that was no secret from Fausto. After we came, he closed his eyes and I relaxed on top of him, just breathing in the scent of lemon soap and sex.

“I wish we could do this every day,” he whispered into my hair.

My toes had curled into the grass, the flutters in my chest nearly an earthquake. I was so happy with him—and he seemed happy, too.

Now we were headed back to real life.

“Are you returning to work this afternoon?” I asked him.

“Yes. I have a few important calls. Will you miss me?”

“No,” I lied.

His expression said he didn’t believe me. “Since you are in a good mood, I must tell you that I’ll need to skip dinner tonight.”

“Oh.” Disappointment crashed through me. I liked eating dinner with him and his family. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“I like to hear you say it, dolcezza.”

“Do you have late calls?”

“No, I must go out for a meeting.”

I pulled Piccola Monella to a halt. “You are leaving the estate?”

He leaned forward on the saddle, bracing his forearms on the horn. “Yes.”

“Where are you going?”

“You know I cannot tell you that.”

“Why?”

Bringing his horse closer, he reached out to touch my face. “You cannot ever know details of my business. I won’t risk getting you sent to prison.”

“The police won’t care if you tell me one tiny thing, Fausto.”

“No, Francesca. The only person who goes to prison is me.”

“I don’t want you to go to prison, either.”

---