Page 49 of Fatal Sloth

He leans down, peppering my neck with kisses, as his thick finger slides in and out of me before he adds a second finger, pumping in and out. He starts slow, but he begins to go faster and faster. My orgasm starts to build in my belly, and I know I'm not going to last much longer.

The warmth of his breath grazes over my ears. "Do you want to come, Piccolina?"

“Please,” I mumble, already on the edge of ecstasy. But instead of granting me the orgasm I so badly crave, he removes his thick digits from inside me.

I turn my head sharply in protest, but before I can utter a word, he lifts me, turning me to face him. The water from the tub sloshes over the sides, wetting the floor. My first instinct is to clean it up or throw a towel down at the very least, but that's the last thing on Sebastiano's mind. “Leave it,” he tells me, then pulls me into a heated kiss.

My hardened nipples graze his muscular chest when he grips the back of my head. A moan escapes my lips, inviting his tongue to explore every inch of my mouth.

Sebastiano breaks the kiss, grinning at me. "Come on my cock, not my fingers," he says, his voice low and husky.

I nod in agreement, excitement tingling through my body as he leans down to kiss my neck, trailing down to my collarbone. Another moan escapes me as he nips at my sensitive skin, then cups my breast, squeezing them hard before taking one in his mouth. He grinds his teeth on my nipple while his hand plays with the other. My back arches and my hands weave through his hair, holding his head in place. The ache in my legs intensifies as his cock presses against my stomach, making me crave him even more. I tighten my grip on his hair as I pull his head back from my breasts, sealing my mouth over his. Both of his hands grip my ass, positioning my pussy over his hard dick.

"You took me so well before. Do you think you can take me again?" Sebastiano's asks, sending a shiver down my spine.

A smile spreads across my lips as I nod.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, and he grips my waist, lifting me so that his cock lines up at my entrance.

With a slow, deliberate movement, I lower myself onto him. A gasp escapes my lips as he fills me up completely, my body instinctively tightening around his thick cock as he stretches me to accommodate his manhood. It's a different sensation this time—full yet satisfying.

His hands stay firm on my hips, guiding me as I start to move. I begin with slow motions, feeling the warmth of the water, easing the lingering soreness. Despite the slight discomfort, pleasure surpasses any pain. With each moment that passes, I become more accustomed to his size, gaining confidence in my movements.

Before long, I'm bouncing up and down on his cock, the warm water splashing around us, heightening the sensation. Our bodies fall into a synchronized rhythm, the intensity growing with each thrust. Water splashes out of the tub as he matches my movements with a primal urgency, that leaves me breathless.

My eyes start to water slightly when a tingling sensation begins to simmer deep in my belly, slowly spreading through my body. Pleasure courses through me, and I begin to lose myself in the moment. Each thrust brings me closer to the brink of ecstasy.

Until suddenly, he stops. "Did I say you could come yet?" he asks breathlessly.

"Please, Bash," I beg, my desperation clear, knowing I won't be able to hold on much longer.

“Oh, I think I could get used to hearing you beg, Piccolina,” comes his gruff response.

“Please,” I plead, my orgasm teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

"Please, what?" he taunts. Sebastiano is well aware of the effect he has on me and is evidently relishing the moment. But I'm in no position to win this battle, so I give my husband what he wants.

"Please, Bash. Please let me come." The man has turned me into a beggar, and the cocky grin that appears on his face after, only makes me want him more than ever.

"Come for me, Piccolina," he grunts, and right on cue, my body obeys, surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure that crashes through me.

He moans with me as my orgasm rocks through my body. My pussy walls squeeze him tightly as I come on his cock. Waves of pleasure crash over me as he continues to thrust a few more times before his cock twitches inside me, filling me with warmth.

I feel myself unravel, collapsing on his chest, feeling completely spent. His arms snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I'm boneless, lying against him and relishing the feeling of his embrace. We stay like this until the water is no longer warm. I'm still on top of him when he pulls out of me. Eventually, he helps me up, lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the shower. He turns on the water, shielding me from the initial cold blast. Once the water turns hot, he moves me under and begins to gently clean every inch of my body.

28

Sebastiano

The scent of cigar smoke clings to the air as I step into the dimly lit room. After dinner, Mia went to bed, and I pretended to have work that needed my attention.

Sitting at my desk, I can't shake her from my mind—the way her body responded to mine, knowing that I'm the only one who's ever been inside her, the only one to touch her, to give her pleasure.

But then the realization hit me like a ton of bricks—I was so caught up in the moment that I came inside her. I never have sex without a condom. Never. It didn't even register until after we showered. Mia mentioned she's on the pill, but still, I'm always careful, at least with this. I know I'm clean; I got tested before the wedding and haven't been with anyone since. But the thought still nags at me that I fucked up. I may not care about much, but the fact that I was so caught up in the moment with her, that I blew my load inside her is a big mistake.

I need to step back. Having feelings for someone isn't what I do. It makes me vulnerable and puts a target on Mia's back, and that's the last thing I want. Dons don't marry for love; it's a strategic move, a show of stability or a way to make an alliance. Saying these things to myself feels a bit too much, like sounding like my father. I'm a damn hypocrite.

At thirty-one, I should have been comfortably settled into the role of the head of the Chicago Mafioso, with a wife and a couple of brats running around, to carry on the Morelli legacy. Yet, here I am, wrestling with fucked up emotions on top of the responsibilities I already have. And if my internal turmoil isn't enough, I still need to figure out how to avoid the kid clause that my father snuck into the marriage contract. I thought avoiding it would work, but knowing Dad, I know it won't.

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