Page 51 of Captive Mafia Wife

Will I still trust him like this in the morning?

Will he still want me?

As he enters, a tidal wave of physical and emotional tension crashes over me. My body wants to welcome him fully, butmy mind is holding back in fear—my anxiety is not allowing me to let go completely.

He senses my turmoil and brushes his lips against my forehead, cheeks, and chin. "Ma chérie, my princess," he whispers, his voice soothing and reassuring. “I’ll never hurt you. Let me make you feel good."

My heart races at his words, and I take a deep breath to calm myself. As I release it, he thrusts completely into me with force and speed, filling me. My breath catches in my throat as he stretches me beyond what I thought was possible. He's so big, and the pleasure combined with a hint of pain leaves me gasping for air. But I trust him and know he will take care of me in this moment.

He starts to move faster inside me now, every thrust sending heat through my body. My skin is on fire, and my heart is racing with the moment. I reach up to meet his lips, our tongues twisting. The intensity builds, each movement more powerful than the last. He grips me tightly, our skin slick with sweat, our bodies moving in perfect unison.

"Yes," I murmur against his lips, my voice hoarse with desire. "Harder."

He takes me up on my challenge, thrusting deeper into me, his hips slamming against me. I cry out in delight and pain.

Our hearts beat wildly together, our breaths ragged and uneven.

"I need you," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I need you now." He flips us over, me now sitting on top of him—another new, overwhelming sensation.

I take a moment to orient myself with my hands on his chest. My hair curtains the sides of my face as I look down athim. I move my hips, trying to get used to the new, strange, intoxicating sensation of his hardness inside me.

His voice is a rake over hot coals. “Dance for me, Freya.”

His sexy words release my remaining inhibitions. I let go, throwing my head back, running my hand through my hair, arching my back, and riding.

He holds me tightly, his hands gripping my hips as he guides my movements. Our breaths quicken. His desire is evident in the way his body moves beneath mine, every thrust hungry for me.

"I'm going to make you come,” I say, riding him hard.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

Every muscle in my body tenses as I cling to him, feeling the heat radiating from his skin and the strength in his arms. The room is filled with an intoxicating mixture of our combined sweat and passion.

Our eyes lock, and we share a brief moment amidst the chaos. Everything else fades away for a split second, leaving only the two of us caught up in this. About to come, I feel a sudden need to be closer to him.

I lean over, and he rises to meet me, our lips tangling in a passionate kiss, his hands in my hair, our bodies curling around one another, a tight knot of tension.

Then, we find our release.

“God! Fredrick!” I clamp down tight, burying him inside me, chasing down that final rasp of friction my body so desperately craves. I feel the orgasm throughout my entire body this time. Warmth, energy, liquid release. He comes inside me, heat and wetness, so full it runs out of me, wetand hot between my thighs. I collapse against him, catching my breath.

He holds me there, just like that.

Afterward, we shower, change into pajamas, and move to his bed for the night. The first night we’ve spent in the same room. I’m sure we won’t go back to separate rooms after this.

Finally, I ask the question burning in my mind since he shared with me the story of his mother. “How do you live with the pain?”

Fredrick smooths my hair, thinking. “I face my past, my pain, directly. I don’t hide it, don’t push it away. If that image… of my mother comes to mind, I watch it pass by like a scene from a film. I allow myself to experience the emotions. Then, I let it go. Knowing it will be back.”

“Hmm.” I process his words, wondering if I could do as he does.

“Ma chérie, you push the difficult times away. As you know, the pain will return. When you don’t embrace the emotions, you give them strength. Each time they return, they come back stronger. And if you don’t face them head-on, one day it may all come rushing back so strong, it swallows you whole.” He strokes my cheek. “‘On ne voit clairement qu'avec le cœur.’ We only see clearly with the heart.”

“That’s pretty.” I mull over his words. “Is that a French saying?”

“From the book,The Little Prince.” His voice lowers. “My mother used to read it to me.”

Beautiful.

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