Page 13 of The Don

He smooths a hand over my shoulder. “It is okay if you didn’t want to see me again. That would have been a wise decision.”

Water sloshes over the side of the tub as I whip around to glare at him over my shoulder. “What? Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?”

“Why would you?” he asks, and then his eyes soften, and his hand snakes around my body. He presses his palm flat against my stomach, and the gentlest smile battles its way onto his lips.

I quickly cover his hand with mine. “I was worried that you might have forgotten about me.”

He laughs and pulls me back against him, wrapping his arms around my waist, kissing across my shoulder. “Even if that had been possible, I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

I smooth my wet fingers over his hairy forearms. “I also thought maybe… I thought you might have done…that with other women. Other tourists.”

Salvatore’s arms move under my breasts and hold me tight. His laughter mixes with soft kisses on my neck. He sucks my skin between his lips.

I moan and rub my thighs together. I’m ready for him again.

He kisses his way up my neck to my ear. “I’d never done that before you.”

I turn to him. We’re so close that I could count each of his eyelashes, and pathetically, I would if I had the time. “So, it was…” I swallow nervously. “Was it special for you?”

One hand flattens across my stomach again. I find that touch especially soothing, and I hope this becomes a habit.

I whimper when his other hand pulls my right leg up by the knee and places it over the side of the tub. I hold my breath and watch his hand move down my inner thigh, small streams of water leading the way between my legs.

“I have been praying for the day to come when I can touch your cunt again,” he whispers directly into my ear.

I shiver and have to force my eyes to remain open, so I can see the moment he does just that. But my mouth moves before my brain can stop it. “What about your wife?”

His hand stops, and so does my heart.

His palm feels like a hot weight on the delicate skin where my thigh almost meets my pussy. “Breathe,” he tells me in a voice devoid of any emotion, even anger.

I don’t know what to make of any of this, but I do what he says. I only get one deep breath in before his hand moves from my leg to my neck. It’s so quick that I don’t even have time to cry out or shift away, not that I could because he still has his other arm around my middle.

“Shae,” he rasps in my ear. His voice isn’t flat now. It’s deep and gravelly, and it makes my heart race.

“Y-yes?”

“Touch me.”

The way he says those two words obliterates the fear I’ve been tending that whatever we had was a one-time thing. I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of him, but he has me beat by a mile.

A long, hard mile just like the length of his long, not-hard-yet dick pressing against the small of my back.

Salvatore lets me loose just enough so I can reach between our bodies and wrap my shaking fingers around the head of his dick.

“Fuck,” I groan.

He grunts when I touch him, and I like that more than I can say, so I stroke him the best I can even with this awkward angle and the hand he still has wrapped around my neck. His hold is loose but not loose enough that I can move without his permission.

My sex clenches, and I feel myself beginning to surrender to his control.

“Everything I could tell you about my wife will sound like a cliché.” He grunts. “The kinds of things an old married man says to convince the pretty young woman who deserves more to let him between her legs.”

“Tell me anyway,” I beg.

“I never loved her. I married her for her name and her family’s power. I’ve never been with her.”

My hand stops, and I struggle against his hold, trying to turn to see him, but he doesn’t let me. He laughs, gentle and cold.

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