Page 81 of Vicious Redemption

And as I explode inside her, Tia’s pussy grips me like a vise.

We come together, the simultaneous force of our release making my cock ache and throb with each powerful burst of cum I pour inside her. Tia sobs with pleasure, her body quivering in my arms. And all the while, her core milks me, urging me deeper inside her depths.

Panting, we still in each other’s arms, our lips almost touching as our breaths mingle, warming the air between us.

“Is this normal?” Tia asks breathlessly, lifting her head just enough to meet my gaze.

“What?” The fact that she watched me kill someone an hour ago, and she’s still willing to fall in bed with me? Probably not, but that’s just another reason I know I’ve been blessed with the perfect woman for me.

“Is sex always this good, I mean?”

I chuckle darkly, combing a strand of her raven hair behind her ear. “No, Tia. What we have is something miles beyond what the rest of the world is enjoying,” I promise on a breath.

Then I steal another fiery kiss because I’m not nearly done with her yet.

38

TIA

“What do you think?” I ask giddily, giving Leo a twirl as I show off my baltic blue cocktail dress with a shimmering, flower-print tulle overlay. Its deep-V neckline plunges all the way into the high waist, which masks my swiftly growing baby bump perfectly. “Good enough for the theater?”

Leo turns his attention from the mirror, where he is finishing off the knot to his double Windsor. When his hazel eyes find me, they light with appreciation. “Perfect,” he agrees, releasing his tie to wrap his arms around my waist.

He pulls me close, molding my body to his as he leans over me. And I melt into him as he claims my lips in a passionate kiss.

It’s been weeks of heavenly bliss since Leo became capo dei capi. And to my astonishment—and immense relief—it seems like everything has settled down, the unrest calming until I’ve started to wonder if life has actually gone back to normal. At least, this is what I hope will be our new normal.

Without the stress of constant rebellion, Leo has been home a far more reasonable amount—and we’ve found more than enough pleasurable ways to fill his free time. In the quiet moments, I can still see the sadness of his loss creeping in. But what I’ve learned in the weeks since his father died is that our baby can lift Leo’s spirits without fail. I think it helps him see that the legacy his father gave him will carry on.

A laugh bubbles up in my chest as our kiss grows longer, and I lightly press against Leo’s chest, silently telling him to stop.

“Hm-mm,” he mumbles against my lips, redoubling his efforts as he traces my lower lips with his tongue.

Groaning as the provocative kiss turns me on, I pull back, forcing our lips apart. “You’re going to make us late,” I insist, though I can hear the reluctance in my own voice.

Leo huffs, then unleashes a wicked smile. “Fine, but now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t promise I’m going to behave for an entire production. I might just have to steal you away for a secret intermission.”

Swatting his shoulder, I glare at him. “Don’t you dare. My sisters are going to be there—and my parents. I would be mortified if they figured out what we were doing.”

“I hate to break it to you, love, but I imagine they already know. You know, considering we’ve already told them about the baby…”

I love this rare, cheeky side of Leo. It’s playful. Less dangerously intimidating, which is his standard MO.

“Behave,” I scold with an accompanying pointer finger, practicing my mom voice. I try not to laugh at how juvenile I must sound when I can’t stop smiling.

Leo captures my jaw with one hand, pulling me close as his lips hover over mine. “Point that finger at me again, and see what happens,” he warns, sending a shiver of anticipation racing down my spine.

I need to keep it together if we’re going to make it to the theater on time.

Releasing a shaky breath, I fight the urge to close the distance between our lips. And after a painful moment of self-restraint, Leo releases me, allowing oxygen to enter my lungs once again.

He clears his throat, as if needing a moment to pull himself back together as well, and he combs his fingers through his hair to put it into place.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice husky in that way that makes my stomach quiver.

“Ready,” I say, gathering my clutch from my vanity.

He offers me his elbow, transforming once more—this time into the perfect gentleman.

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