Page 37 of Protected By the Mafia

twelve

Dr. Laura

There was something about coming home late, to a dark and empty house, that had always left a knot of despair in the depths of Cristiano’s stomach. He’d never expressed the feeling to anyone, always felt like it made him sound weak and insecure because he knew it was just a mindfuck. But the feeling never went away. Not until he brought Felicity into his home, into his bed.

This night was no different. It was late as shit, and for once he wasn’t even coming back with blood or some other questionable substance on his hands, and the penthouse was dark. Silent. Yet as soon as he stepped into the bedroom and saw her there, sound asleep in his oversized bed, warmth filled his chest. A smile lifted his lips as he drank in the sight of her.

She was curled up on her side, his pillow under her cheek and the comforter pushed down nearly to her waist. As she’d taken to doing when she fell asleep alone, she was wearing one of his T-shirts for a nightshirt, the collar so loose on her shoulders it had already practically fallen off. Her dark hair was fanned behind her and he could see her chest rise and fall with even breaths.

His cock stirred to life as he let himself stare. Felicity was so fucking beautiful. So sweet, despite all the shit she’d been put through, and definitely too good for him. She had her first meeting with Dr. Laura the next day. He knew he needed to let her rest. He knew, but he wasn’t capable of stopping himself.

Cristiano moved silently to the sitting chair and quickly popped off his boots. He set them down to keep them from dropping loudly to the floor. Then he stood, all but ripped off the rest of his clothing, and eased the comforter away from his woman.

Her legs were bare, as he’d known they’d be. She probably wasn’t even wearing panties. He fully intended to find out.

He climbed onto the bed, over her, and brushed a kiss to her cheek when she groaned faintly at the shifting. “Shh, it’s just me, baby,” he murmured next to her ear.

Felicity sighed, as if she understood him, and her breathing restabilized. Her instinctive trust in him fueled his hunger and Cristiano lowered his head, pressing another soft kiss to her exposed shoulder. He took the opportunity to inhale her sweet scent and the way it had mixed with his.

Then he positioned himself to kneel below her, reached down, and slipped a hand between her thighs. Gently, he massaged the skin, working up until he found her hot center and could sweep his fingers through her folds. She shifted a little, releasing a mewling moan, and he teased her clit for a precious second. As soon as she was wet enough, he adjusted his hips and took hold of her thigh, giving himself room to push his full, aching length inside of her.

Felicity squirmed, her head rolling, and she made a sound of approval.

Cristiano groaned as her pussy spasmed around him. He wanted to lose himself, to surrender to his most primal urges and just fuck her until his balls were dry and the thought of more contact actually hurt. But he also didn’t want to wake her up. So he held her thigh against his abdomen, slid his other hand beneath the stolen shirt to touch more of her skin, and slowly started rocking.

He stroked his cock in and out of her slick pussy. He was careful not to thrust too hard, but still it wasn’t long before he was fighting the need to come. It was too soon. He wanted more. He wanted to see how many sleepy moans he could pull from her, how much she would squirm for him, and if he could get her to orgasm before she woke. No. That was a necessity.

He moved his hand from her hip and dipped it down, finding her clit without breaking rhythm. She was so fucking tight and wet, her body already starting to convulse around him. It didn’t take much. He rolled the nub beneath his fingers as he sank inside her again, and this time, when she woke with a scream, it was the one kind of scream he loved to hear on her lips.

The way she twisted her hips with the motion was the last push he needed and Cristiano let out a roar as he emptied inside her.

Felicity dropped onto her elbows, angled to look up at him, her eyes wide and blinking rapidly. Her chest heaved, her breasts straining against the shirt with the movement. “Cr-Cristiano?”

He growled and shoved the shirt up, off her, inadvertently knocking her onto her back. He moved her thighs to his hips and leaned down, kissing her hard. “Sorry, baby,” he said with a grunt as the kiss broke. “I missed you today. Need you.” He hadn’t been home at all since he’d left that morning. It was the first day they’d spent so apart and it had been hell. He needed her close. Closer than close.

Felicity laughed softly and tightened her legs around him, crossing her ankles at his back. “Kinda feels like you already took me. That was way hotter than it should have been.”

He huffed out a breath and bent to trail kisses down her neck, rocking and grinding against her. “Told you I have unconventional tastes.” He licked at her pulse point as he started thrusting deeper into her again, then lifted his gaze to hers. It was dark, but his eyes had adjusted. He could see her panting and smiling up at him. “You sure you can handle me fucking you in your sleep like that?”

“Shit, yes,” Felicity exclaimed. She wrapped her arms around him. “If I don’t want you touching me, I’ll put pants on. Otherwise—ah—fuck me, Cris. Please.”

He choked on a laugh of his own and licked his way back into her mouth. “Don’t blame me if your pants all disappear tomorrow.”

She laughed until he sat up, took hold of her hips, and thrust harder into her. This was what he needed. Her, surrounding him. Her, welcoming him. Just her. All of her.

What had she been thinking? Sure, she had a lot of stuff going on in her head, and Cristiano wasn’t the first person to suggest she look into therapy, but now that the moment was upon her Felicity realized this probably wasn’t the best way. Ambushing her secret lover’s family’s possibly blackmailed psychotherapist, while that same family was looking to capture and most likely kill her, did not seem like a great idea. Why does life have to be so messy?

It would have been great if she could have run through all her pre-appointment anxieties with Taylor. But the least she could do was respect Taylor’s wishes and stay away until she was able to be forthright with her friend. If her friend was even, well, her friend anymore.

Cristiano settled his arm around her shoulders as the elevator doors closed. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m with you.”

Felicity leaned into him, aware that once they stepped from the building, she couldn’t be so openly affectionate. She was a bit sore still, but despite losing half a night’s sleep, she felt astoundingly well-rested. Too bad that did nothing for her worries. “What if someone sees us first?”

He gave her a squeeze. “Then I finally found you and grabbed you up. I approached you, in open daylight, and you came willingly because you’re afraid of and frankly despise your half-brother. Something like that.”

“But wouldn’t you be expected to, like, rough me up at least?” The elevator stopped at B1 and Felicity realized she’d dumbly not paid attention to the number they’d started on.

“No,” Cristiano said. “Not if you’re enthusiastically cooperating. The problem would come after that, because then I’d need to take you somewhere less comfortable and we wouldn’t be expected to be friends. Half the things you said would be hard to prove, particularly with your family mostly dead now.” He released her shoulders and scooped up her hand, guiding her into the underground parking structure.

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