Page 30 of Deadly Don's Baby Contract

We have until death us do part to savor sex. This has to be quick. “Fuck me, husband,” she says breathlessly in my ear. Something inside me turns feral at the sound of her saying husband. I shove her panties to the side. They’re too pretty to rip off her and lift her so I can slide into her soaking wet pussy.

“Jesus, Aria.” I grip her hips, trying to slow her down. She fucks me like she wants to punish me.

“We were just in church. Jesus doesn’t want to be here for this part,” she says, but her words turn into a moan that fills the car. “Franco, please,” Aria begs as she rides my cock. This time, I am not in control. She can beg all she wants—she’s driving right now. I’m just trying not to cum before her.

“Aria,” I say firmly because she’s dangerously close to making me lose the shred of control I do have.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads, biting my shoulder so hard I can feel her teeth through my shirt. “Fucking don’t stop.” I don’t ever want to stop with her—it’s like no matter how much I have, it’s never enough. Aria throws her head back, and I have the most glorious view of her body as she fucks me.

I wanted to claim her—but she flipped the tables, and she’s claiming me. With every thrust, moan, and move, she takes me, and I am powerless to stop her. “Aria.” It’s too much. I grip her hips and fuck up into her. She’s tight, her pussy grips me, and she shudders as her orgasm takes me over the edge with her.

“Wife,” I growl as I cum deep inside her. “My wife.”

It takes a moment for us to pull ourselves back together, and as I zip my pants up, I feel my phone vibrate again—time to face the music. Aria is quiet as we pull away. The silence grows more deafening the closer we get. My brother is going to kill us, and if he doesn’t, he will make us wish he did.

The lights are all on, even though it’s late. Marco is up, no doubt looking for Aria. He doesn’t know that I found her—first. I know he will be in a filthy mood, and I’m about to drop a bomb that might turn nuclear.

“What have we done, Franco?” she asks.

“Started a war,” I reply, knowing my brother will want revenge above all else. We walk up the front steps holding hands, and I can feel her hand shaking in mine. I’ll keep her safe. She’s my wife.

His voice carries through the house as we open the door, the anger tangible. She ran from him, and he is furious. He has no idea that while he was hunting her down, I stole his bride. “Finally,” Marco glares at me as he comes down the stairs. “I wondered if you’d be brave or stupid enough to show up here.” His rage is directed at me, not Aria.

Something isn’t right. I move so she’s slightly shielded by my body. “Brother.” His patronizing tone is like nails on a chalkboard board, and my hackles are up. “You should be careful about answering calls from your pocket.” Fuck.

Marco steps into my personal space, so close I can smell the liquor on his breath, when he says, “Did you enjoy fucking my wife?” He is all but vibrating with anger. “It sounded like she is quite a whore.”

“My wife.” I stand straighter. “I was fucking my wife.” There’s no point dragging this charade out any longer. My brother freezes and stares at me. His jaw twitches, and I wait for him to snap and lose control. He’s never been able to act rationally when he’s jealous.

“Say it again, so I have a reason to kill you,” Marco hisses.

“My wife,” I reply. “I married her, and she’s mine.”

Marco stands still, not looking at her, just at me.

“Traiterous piece of shit,” he yells. “You were always just a jealous fool, wanting what was mine. You know what is sweeter than her pussy, brother?” He waits for me to reply, but I don’t take the bait. “Revenge.” He shoves past me without looking back. The door slams so hard it echoes through the otherwise empty house.

“He didn’t kill you,” Aria says.

“Yet.” I know he will try.

***

“Franco,” my sister's shrill voice all but shatters glass, “get your ass down here!”

I guess it’s morning, and the news travels fast in my family.

“Franco, I will come up there, and I know you’re naked.” I groan and pull on some pants so I can go downstairs and shut her up.

I’m halfway down when she starts, “Why did Marco call me and cancel his wedding?” she asks pointedly. “I was told to cancel all the arrangements. He said you would tell me why?”

The coward, he couldn’t admit he lost.

“Because Aria is already married, so he can’t marry her.”

“She’s married?” Guila gasps. “To who? Can’t she get a divorce?”

“To me,” I say casually as she follows me to the kitchen, where there is coffee. “And she doesn’t want a divorce.” I wouldn’t give her one even if she did, not after spending a week with her as my wife. There is not a chance in hell that I’d let her go.

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