Page 15 of His to Honor

She wriggles her hips impatiently and I give her what she needs. Propping myself up on my palms, I claim her body with long, slow thrusts. Giulia gazes at me, her eyes glazed with desire.

“You like my fat cock in you.” It’s not a question. It’s evident from the flush of her cheeks, the parting of her rosy lips as soft moans fall from them, that she’s enjoying this.

“I’ll like it better when you stop talking.”

Giulia grabs my shoulders, sinking her nails in. The pain shakes loose the last remnants of my control. Pulling out, I drag her down onto the floor, positioning her on all fours before impaling her on my cock once more. Grabbing her waist, I fuck her hard and fast, yanking her back to meet my cock with every forward thrust. Giulia moans ecstatically. I know already I will never tire of hearing those sounds.

As her pussy clenches, squeezing my cock like a vise, my climax grips me. My hips jerk and I come, groaning as the most intense pleasure washes over me. “Oh, fuck, Giulia!”

I carefully pull out of her and sit back on my heels. Before I’ve fully recovered, Giulia is on her feet. She glances down and grimaces. I follow her line of sight to where my cum is glistening on her inner thighs. There’s a crimson smear on her skin. That can’t be what I think it is. I check my cock and see the bloody evidence of her innocence there, too. Shit. I should have made her tell me she was a virgin. Fucking her like that was selfish.

“Giulia.” My tone is tinged with regret. That was too fast. I didn’t take time to explore her gorgeous body, to let her get to know mine. I showed her less consideration than I would a complete stranger.

“No need for guilt,” she says primly as she wipes herself clean with her panties and then drops them into the waste bin by the desk. “I wanted this.”

Zipping up her pants, she offers me a tight smile, turns and walks away. Fucking her the way I did makes me the biggest asshole on the planet. I’ve not got much experience with virgins, but this cannot be what she wanted for her first time. I’ll make it up to her. When I take her again, it will be the way she deserves.

CHAPTER 5

Giulia

Growing up in a mafia family, I was never naïve enough to imagine that losing my virginity was going to be a romantic experience. I knew not to expect hearts and flowers from my husband. Because in the world I’m a part of, I should have been married when I first slept with a man.

Candles, scented baths, and rose petals strewn on silk sheets were never going to play a part in my deflowering, but I thought at least there would be a bed. A hard sofa and an even harder floor just don’t cut it.

Though I used to daydream about my first time being with Matteo, I didn’t think it would happen like that. I certainly never imagined I would initiate the whole thing. Because a part of me knew that there could only be one outcome to me provoking him. The moment I said I hated him, I sealed my fate. He just had to prove me wrong.

Burying my embarrassment that the entire staff probably knows we just fucked in the office, I plaster a smile on my face as the waiter approaches the table with our food.

“IsSignoreVolante…?” He looks nervous. Matteo has that effect on people. He’s friendlier than his brothers, more gregarious, but his reputation precedes him. Everyone knows his easy manner masks a ruthless streak.

“He’ll be out in a minute.” As he sets the plate of veal down on the table along with my fries and Matteo’s side dish of broccoli, I coo with delight. “This looks fantastic.Grazie.”

As the waiter walks away, Matteo saunters into the room, looking a hell of a lot more put together than I feel. His shirt is tucked into his pants and his hands are in his pockets. I have to fight the urge to jump up from my seat and strangle him. It’s not fair that he appears totally unaffected by what happened between us when my clothes are rumpled and my hair is a mess. Of course, he has a lot more experience with putting himself back together after sex than I do, a realization that makes jealousy rear its ugly head. I take a deep breath as he drops onto the seat opposite me.

“The food’s here.” Matteo’s observation is facile, no doubt intended to test the water between us. He probably thinks I’m about to collapse under the weight of emotion now that my precious innocence is gone. Maybe I will later, when I’ve had the chance to process everything.

“It is.” My voice is remarkably level. I don’t know how to act around him right now, but making Matteo feel guilty about a situation I was complicit in creating would be mean. “And it smells incredible.”

Grabbing a crisp French fry from the metal basket they came in, I drag it through the dark brown sauce encircling the veal, which sits off-center on my plate. I pop it in my mouth and have to hold back a groan of pleasure. The sauce has a rich, beefy taste. There’s definitely wine in it and some herbs I can’t identify. It’s the best thing I’ve had in a long time, though, admittedly, that wouldn’t be hard. Since I moved out of my father’s house and into a tiny studio apartment in the East Village, I’ve been living on cheap takeout. Cooking is not my forte.

As I pick up my fork and knife and cut off a sliver of the veal wrapped in prosciutto, I’m painfully aware of Matteo’s scrutiny.

“Are you okay?” he asks, just as I put the food in my mouth.

I slowly chew and then swallow, giving myself a moment to ensure I can answer without my voice quivering. “Yes, I’m good.”

Matteo frowns, clearly not convinced. “Giulia…”

“Really, Matteo, it’s all good. Can we skip the in-depth analysis of what happened, please?”

For a minute, I think he’s going to press the issue. It would be just like Matteo to decide he wants to explore his feelings on the one occasion I’d prefer not to have a heart-to-heart. He stares at me, eyes narrowed, studying my expression, trying to work out what’s going on in my head. Then he nods and turns his attention to eating.

We barely talk throughout the meal, other than to offer the occasional comment on the taste and quality of the ingredients. Matteo grabs a handful of my fries without asking and, in return, shovels some of his broccoli onto my plate. It tastes bitter to me, but I pretend to like it to avoid getting a lecture about how I should eat more vegetables. Matteo loves all food, but he’scareful to balance out the unhealthy options with plenty of fruit and vegetables. Me? I’m more of a junk food girl, despite my stepmother trying to feed me nothing but protein shakes and rice crackers since I hit puberty.

“Would you like dessert?” Matteo asks as I lay down my cutlery.

Hell, no. I want to get back to the villa, take a nice hot shower to wash the evidence of what we’ve done off me, and then lie down in a darkened room until I come to terms with the fact that I fucked my former best friend.

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