Page 54 of Isle of Beauty

Her moans fill the room and invade the very fabric of my every cell. I continue to feast on her pussy and bring three fingers into her, her cries of agony music to my ears. I lick my thumb and press it into her ass agonisingly slowly and it’s enough to have her cry my name over and over while she comes on my hands and mouth.

I stand up while she slumps on the sink and the dishevelled state of my beautiful wife is enough to bring me back to my knees again. Hair mussed, mascara down her cheeks, ass red and pussy still weeping, she’s everything I want and nothing I deserve.

I lower her dress back down. “We should get back out there,” I whisper into her ear and kiss her hair before I can catch myself.

She whines and I laugh. It’s a light sound that I didn’t think I would hear coming from my own mouth today. Yet, secluded in here with the woman who haunts my every thought, I can almost pretend everything’s fine. I can almost pretend I’m finally getting revenge against my father and that she’ll forgive me for it.

Because I know two things at that moment. One, I’ll never let her see the walls of a prison. Two, my little wife wants me and I’ll gladly remind her every single time she tries to push me away.

“I’ll remind you of that whiny attitude next time you tell me you won’t touch me with a ten-foot pole, mo cara.”

“If you tell anyone, you’ll end up where all my husbands do, pinzutu.”

I smile wider. She just called me her husband. Who knew death threats could be so hot.

TWENTY-TWO

LANA

I’M NOT DYING HERE

The security Pierce and Julian installed all over the island where we own businesses seem to have deterred our attackers but unfortunately, we’re nowhere near close to finding the source of the threat.

The calm of the past few days hasn't given me the peace I’d hoped. It tenses my muscles with electricity and keeps me constantly on edge. And I’m not the only one.

I look at my fiancé, who’s driving us down the docks, his knuckles blanching where he grips the steering wheel.

He’s been locked up with Alessio and Julian, sometimes even my father, to go through the necessary handover on our real estate business. They’re sharing everything about the Y, even though I was firmly against it. He’s not ready and even if he was, I still don’t trust him despite the fire of our lust for each other. That doesn’t make for good marriage material, nor a business partnership.

I also need to be honest with myself. That’s not the main reason for my hesitation. On the off chance he’s indeed here for me, I don’t want to get my heart broken again.

The fact that my body’s a total traitor is irrelevant.

I shiver as the ghost of his hand on my ass crosses my thoughts. Without looking at me, Pierce turns off the AC in the car and my heart squeezes.

He can’t keep doing small things like that, it’s not fucking fair.

Any distraction will do. “How’s Pierce Security Company doing without you?”

“Not well enough.” His brow furrows before he sighs.

I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. I guess I’m not the only one with trust issues. I observe the tick of his jaw and the light blue under his eyes that seem to have become a permanent feature. They’re faint for now but they didn’t exist three years ago. Whatever is happening in London isn’t good news. Or maybe it’s this life. It doesn’t suit everybody. Pierce might pretend he’s fine with everything we’re doing but you don’t turn Heir to the mafia in a day when you’ve been a saint all your life.

We park at the docks and I glide my hand to his cheek and turn his face to mine, infusing in my gaze everything I can’t get myself to confess just yet. Touching him is an instinct long buried.

“You’re not alone anymore, Lisandru. Whatever happens, you can count on us to help you. You can count on me.”

His real name slips out but he doesn’t seem to notice. He smirks but his eyes lack amusement. “Getting soft on me, mo cara? Did I just need to feed you my cock to convince you our union was for the best?”

“And next time, I promise I’ll fucking bite it off.”

His cheap quip makes me feel exactly that. Cheap. What we exchanged on our engagement night meant something to me but I guess I misread him. I deluded myself into believing what everyone was saying about him coming here for me. I won’t make that mistake twice.

I try to wrench myself from him and remove my hand but he takes hold of me with both hands. I land on his lap, a heavy hand on my thigh and the other bracketing my throat. He immobilises me in seconds with a move I’m sure Marcel taught him.

Our eyes clash and I fall into their depth. I don’t know what to read in his tortured stare. He looks at me like the idea of hurting me with his words is physically painful and I’m tempted to believe him.

“Lana, I…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

---