Page 19 of The Capo & the Curator

Her legs wrap around my hips, ankles locking behind my back as she urges me on. "Harder," she pants.

As our frantic rhythm escalates, I can't help but marvel at the sheer perfection of this moment: Evelyn beneath me, her cries of pleasure, her nails digging into the desk as she clings on for dear life.

Her pussy grips me like a velvet fist, each clench sending white-hot pleasure streaking through my core, urging me on. Drops of perspiration slide down my temples as I piston in and out of her, her wetness coating my length. The scent of arousal fills the air, musky and intoxicating.

"Dante, oh God, Dante," she moans my name like a prayer on her lips, her head thrown back as she arches into my every thrust.

"You feel so good," I grunt, my breathing ragged as I pump into her, harder and faster, my balls aching with the need to release.

"Yes, Dante, yes!" she cries out, her eyes squeezing shut as her orgasm builds. "Don't stop."

At last, with a broken cry of release, Evelyn shatters in my embrace. I follow her over that dizzying precipice only heartbeats later in a cataclysmic wave of pure sensation. For a blissful eternity, we cling to one another, our ragged breaths slowly evening out in tandem as the haze of passion begins to dissipate.

I gaze down at Evelyn, utterly transfixed by the sight of her lying amidst the scattered documents on her desk. Her chestnut tresses are an artful tangle, fanning across the aged wood like silk. A rosy flush stains her cheeks, lending vivid color to the soft contours of her face.

"Well," she murmurs, her lips curving into that sweet, secret smile. "I'd say that was one for the record books."

An undignified snort escapes me at her playful quip. Reaching out, I tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear, letting my knuckles linger in a tender caress along her jaw. "Only you could find a way to turn debauchery into scholarly pursuit, tesoro."

Evelyn's eyes sparkle as she props herself up on one elbow, utterly unabashed in her glorious disarray. "What can I say? We curator types are an insatiably curious breed. Constantly seeking new... experiences to catalog and analyze."

"Is that so?" I arch one brow, fighting back a grin. "And tell me, Ms. Hughes, what findings did your latest research uncover?"

She regards me through her lashes, her tongue darting out to wet her lips in a gesture that sends a fresh flare of hunger blazing through me. "That you, Mr. Romano, are a singular case study in contradictions—ruthlessly alpha in your dominion, yet surprisingly skilled in the finer arts of seduction."

A rumble of laughter escapes me at her candid assessment. Wrapping one arm around her waist, I pull her flush against me, relishing the way her soft curves mold so perfectly against the hard lines of my body.

"And you, il mio cuore," I murmur against the fragrant warmth of her neck, "are the most deliciously maddening paradox of them all." I nip lightly at the sensitive skin just below her ear, smirking as she shivers in response. "All poise and polish one moment, and in the next, an utterly wanton temptress."

She lets out a breathless laugh, her fingers trailing patterns along the ridges of my spine. "Well then, I'd say we make quite the perfectly contradictory pair—the capo and the curator, bound by history, secrets, and an insatiable thirst for discovery."

The words resonate deep within me, igniting embers of a profound truth that steals my very breath. Whatever lies ahead, wherever this tumultuous journey may yet lead, we'll face it together. Two halves of the same determined whole, undaunted by the challenges that await.

With a low growl, I capture her mouth in a searing kiss, losing myself in the velvet glide of her lips, the exquisite heat of her body molded so perfectly against mine. When we finally part, I rest my forehead against hers.

"Bound together," I echo in a rough murmur. A vow, a promise, and so much more.

Evelyn's fingers trace the contours of my face with infinite tenderness. "Always," she whispers against my lips.

Epilogue

Evelyn

The soft hush of the library is a soothing balm against the cacophony swirling through my mind.

I trail my fingers along the polished glass of the display cases, each one a meticulously curated portal into the city's rich—and often sordid—past. Documents yellowed with age intermingle with delicate antiquities, their stories woven together in an intricate tapestry of history and intrigue.

My eyes linger on the centerpiece—the pièce de résistance that catalyzed this entire exhibition. The leather-bound journal belonging to Dante's late grandfather. Beside it rests the sheaf of Renaissance-era documents we'd fought so fiercely to recover.

A small, wistful smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I drink in the sight. Who could have fathomed that those dusty pages would lead me on such an extraordinary path?

"You look positively radiant tonight, tesoro."

The low, smoky drawl ghosts across the nape of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I don't need to turn to identify the source of that sinful rumble—it's become as intimately familiar to me as my own heartbeat over these past few months.

"Is that your way of saying I clean up nicely?" I tease, pivoting to face him.

Dante's eyes, dark as smoldering embers, blaze over me in a heated sweep that leaves delicious friction tingling in its wake. He's a vision in his impeccably tailored suit, the fine fabric clinging to those broad shoulders and tapering down to a trim waist. Sinfully handsome has always been his default setting, yet tonight, there's an added edge of intensity thrumming around him.

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