Page 15 of Beautiful & Dirty

It was nice while it lasted, but I am who I am, and there’s something about being fully in Salvatore’s control and being full of him that speaks to me at, and in, my core. I’m happy to give in to him. I want to give him all of me.

Chapter 7

If only Ihad the time to enjoy her the way I want to — the way I know I’ll dream about in the nights to come — but I don’t let the countdown clock that’s reappeared in my mind’s eye deter me from wringing as much pleasure from this moment as possible.

Shae is wonderfully warm and wet and never stops squirming in my arms or clenching around my dick. It’s a cliché — older man, younger woman — and yet it’s true; I haven’t felt so alive in years. I fuck her with everything I have, the metal table moving underneath us until I’ve fucked her and it halfway across the room and against the wall, banging over and over and over again with each thrust. My shoulder is screaming in pain, the gunshot wound reminding me that I’m mortal and that next to me is the most dangerous place Shae could be, but I ignore it all, refusing to let anything ruin this moment. I can hate myself later.

I devour her mouth with mine, tasting every sensual moan with my tongue and feeling each one in my chest. I move my hands frantically over every bit of skin I can access. I dig my fingers into her lush waist. I push her bra down her torso so I can pinch her nipples and lick at her throat when her head falls back on a scream. Every part of her is delicious.

“Fuck,” she screams, locking her arms and legs around me as she comes again.

I’ve lost count of how many times she’s shivered in my hold and gushed around me because it doesn’t matter. It’ll never be enough.

I shiver at the tight hold of her cunt around my cock and force myself not to come too soon. I ride out the waves of her orgasm with slow, shallow strokes and butterfly kisses across her face until she’s squirming in my arms again.

“Please,” she moans, again and again, but this time, the word sounds different. It sounds like the invitation I’ve been waiting for, even if I didn’t realize it at the time.

Reluctantly, I pull away from her, enjoying the way she whines again. I help her stand from the table and brush my mouth against hers. I love the way she smiles at me, so innocent, untainted, unlike everything else in my life, this room, this restaurant, even my wife. She giggles — a beautiful tinkle that brightens this dark room that has seen so much horror. I imagine her light filling me and washing away all the sins I’d commit again. If I was ever as innocent as Shae, I don’t remember it, so I hold onto the way her innocence makes me feel.

And then I bend her over the table.

“God, yes,” she moans against the cold metal, wiggling her ass at me enticingly.

I fall to my knees behind her. I push her legs open and then grip the soft globes of her ass, one in each hand. I spread her cheeks and take a second to look at her delicate pussy, her warm brown-pink lips, and her bright pink opening, clenching now that she’s empty. I imagine that she will miss me the way her pussy misses my dick; or maybe it’s just that I hope that will be so.

“I need you. Please,” she groans, her sex winking at me.

I need her, too. I need something in my life that feels as fresh and hopeful as Shae. I need something that reminds me that everything doesn’t have to be as dark and sinister as the world I live in. But I don’t deserve it. So, I don’t tell her how much I wish she could stay, but I do press my mouth against her cunt and lick at her in long, sure strokes, plunging my tongue inside her, sucking each lip into my mouth, circling her clit, leaving no part of her untasted.

She screams. It’s music to my ears. I want her louder. I want to fill this room with her cries.

When she’s gushing on my tongue and cursing at the top of her lungs, and my dick is aching and dripping precome onto the floor, I stand. I grip her thigh with my left hand so hard she groans and then whimpers. I grab my dick with a hard squeeze and then plunge so deep inside her that I see stars.

“Yes,” Shae groans as her pussy clenches around me.

“Do you like that?” I ask her in a choked moan.

Her shivering body is her only response, but it’s more than enough.

Her hips feel amazing under my palms, but I can’t resist and move my hands up her body. I dig one hand into her hair and pull back with a gentle, but sharp, tug. Shae rewards me by gurgling a groan and coming on my dick again. She’s so responsive to my every touch that I can feel her breaking me down, piece by piece.

Shae’s back arches beautifully for me. Her hands are wrapped around the edge of the table as I fuck her in sharp jutting thrusts. But it all comes together when I wrap my other hand around her throat. Once I have a tight hold on her, we both shiver. This is how it’s meant to be; this is what we both need. I start to fuck her harder, losing tiny pieces of myself with each thrust, pieces she’ll take with her even if she doesn’t know it.

We rut against one another so hard the metal desk begins to bang against the stone wall again. Soundproofing or not, someone will hear us, and I don’t care. Why should I? Who can stop me? No one. And even though I’ve been at the head of The Family for twenty years, it’s only now that the power of that position seems worth it. Who can stop me from fucking Shae until our bodies are covered in sweat, and this room stops smelling like blood and antiseptic and starts smelling like her pussy and perfume and my come? No one.

I can have this. I can have Shae. Even if only for a little while.

And so, I do. I hold her body in my hands and fuck her through orgasm after orgasm until the force of my own release makes my hips stutter, and my muscles lock as I release inside of her. She reaches back around her body and grabs onto my waist. I’m worried that she will push me away, but she doesn’t. Instead, her nails dig into my hips, holding me close as she joins me in oblivion.

This, too, is dangerous, but I don’t care. Shae and I deserve this; we deserve each other, even if we cannot keep each other.

Chapter 8

I’ve never cheated before.I never even thought about it, not really, but if someone had asked me, I would have said that I couldn’t cheat because I wouldn’t have been able to survive the guilt.

But there is no guilt.

Salvatore helps me redress, kissing and caressing my bare skin until it’s fully covered. And then he presses me against the heavy storeroom door and kisses my mouth one more time, exploring every inch of me with his tongue. What’s there to feel guilty about? How could I muster the energy for guilt in this moment?

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