Page 42 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

I climb over her, intent on ravishing her, hurting her, making her cry out, but then I pause. She asked me to prove that I never meant to leave her. This is about so much more than sex.

This is about proving to her that she matters to me. I feel lost for a moment. I don’t know how to love anyone. I can’t love anyone. I only know how to hurt, how to take, how to scheme.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her chest rising and falling fast as she looks up at me.

“I’m trying to decide how to prove something to you that I barely understand myself,” I say.

I lay down beside her, and draw her against my body, her back against me. My erection nestles between us, and she arches back against me eagerly. I resist the urge to do what I would have done in the past and plunge myself into her warmth immediately.

“You don’t care that I said that I would leave you,” I whisper to her. “You care about the fact that you have never had any control over anything going on.” She whimpers, but she goes slack in my arms.

“Yet you like when I hurt you,” I say to her. I deliver a stinging slap to her backside and she cries out both in surprise and pleasure.

“Tell me what you want,” I say to her, trailing the pads of my fingers over her arm. “And how much to hurt you,” I add.

“I decide everything?” she asks.

I nod, ignoring the desperation curling through me. I haven’t fucked her in so many years it feels like torture to hold back now, but I stay the course.

“Fine,” she agrees. She rises to her knees on the bed. “Sit up,” she orders me.

I oblige her, and she looks at me for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. My erection is painful at this point, and my heart is racing in my chest.

I have no idea what she is going to do. I see the change in her expression a moment before she delivers a ringing slap to my face.

“That’s for saying that you would leave me,” she spits at me. She slaps my face again. “And that is for lying to me for years about everything.” She’s panting now, and my face burns, but I don’t move.

She slaps me again, grunting when the impact hurts her hand. “And that is for all the years that you didn’t know that you had a son.” She is rubbing her injured hand distractedly, her chest rising and falling, and her eyes flashing with her pent-up fury and hurt.

She readjusts herself on her knees and then delivers one more sharp slap to my face. “And that is for the fact that I still love you, even after everything that you have done to me.”

I touch my lip with my tongue, tasting blood from a split lip. I look at her, her lush, brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, her breasts heaving, her eyes snapping.

She has never looked more beautiful. Something dangerously like emotion blooms in my chest.

“Now,” she says, her voice sounding surprisingly prim. “Now I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

At her words, something unravels within me. A rough sound tears from my throat as I grab a hold of her shoulders and twist her back against my body.

I yank her hips against me and press the length of my erection between her legs, her buttocks cradled against me.

I plunge into her from behind, my hand pressed flat against her abdomen so she can’t squirm away, can’t adjust for me. I fill her, feeling her body stretch to accommodate me.

She shouts at the intrusion, her head tilting back against my shoulder. She tries to move around, but I reach up with my free hand and grip her throat, yanking her back against me.

I press into her to the root, and I feel her cry of pleasure and pain in the fingers around her throat. I start moving furiously, feeling her body open to me.

She’s screaming with each thrust, and I feel the wetness of her spilling over onto my thighs.

“I never fucked anyone else,” she pants out as I drive into her. “There’s never been anyone but you, Elio. I’ve never loved anyone but you, damn you.”

Her words cause a vicious twist of joy to sing in my veins. I increase the tempo of my thrusting motions, gripping her body with hands that are desperate.

She comes violently, screaming my name as she flies apart. I feel a rush of hot liquid flow over me and dribble down my legs as I drive into her one more time and give into my own release.

The pleasure is unimaginable. I feel like I’m both dying and coming to life at the same time.

The smell of her perfume and sex, and the feel of her supple body, so familiar yet completely unknown, invade my senses as I pour myself into her with painful intensity.

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