Page 25 of Scar

He moves slowly, stretching to position himself between my legs. I feel the tip of him brush against my entrance, and I tense for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty passing through me. But then he leans down, capturing my lips in a tender kiss, and the tension melts away.

“You’re mine, baby,” he promises against my mouth.

He enters me slowly, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. It’s a stretch, a slight burn, but not unpleasant. He watches me, his gaze never leaving mine, his expression a mix of concentration and tenderness. I focus on his eyes, on the connection between us, and it helps ease the discomfort I feel.

When he’s fully seated inside me, he pauses, giving me a moment to breathe, to catch my breath and acclimate to the feeling of him. I feel full, complete, in a way I never have before. There’s a sense of rightness to the act, as though this is where I’m meant to be.

“Okay?” he asks, his voice thick with restraint.

“Yes.”

He begins to move, slow, deliberate strokes that send waves of painful delight rippling through me. Each thrust is careful, measured, as though he’s determined to make this asperfect as possible. The initial discomfort fades, replaced by a growing warmth, a building pleasure that starts to spiral within me.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more of him. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that makes my heartbeat louder. So loud, I think it just may leave my body. His movements become urgent, a bit more insistent, and I meet each thrust with a newfound confidence, a matching desire.

The pleasure builds and builds, each movement fluid, bringing me closer to that elusive peak. His name falls from my lips in a continuous litany, a chant of want and greed. He responds with low, murmured words, his hands roaming over my body, heightening every sensation.

And then, suddenly, I’m there. The peak looms before me, and with a final, powerful thrust, I’m sent tumbling over the edge. My pussy convulses around him, a burst of ecstasy that consumes me entirely. I cry out, a sound of pure, unadulterated bliss, and he follows me, his own release crashing over him with a force that leaves us both breathless.

He collapses onto me, careful to keep his weight from crushing me, and we lie there, entwined, our breaths mingling in the afterglow. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch tender, his expression one of contentment as his lips graze my temple.

We stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms. And in that quiet, shared silence, I understand that this is why he didn’t want me getting to the top of the mountain. Because we were always meant to get there together.

CHAPTER 23 – SCAR

I leave Allegra’s room and go back to my room in the early morning, before the house wakes. I don’t like it, but I don’t want to read too much into what happened between us last night.

The same day I could’ve killed her for testing my patience – again – I took her in the most intimate way possible between a man and a woman. I took her innocence, becoming her first ever. And her last. The sight of her blood staining the sheets brought out the beast in me, and an uncomfortable possessiveness settled deep in the marrow of my bones. No man will ever touch her like that but me. No man. She’s mine, all mine.

Even when I took her again an hour later, when she opened for me willingly, I knew that I could never ever let another man near her. She was now as much a part of me as I was of her.

As I close the door behind me, the quiet of my room feels strange, almost hollow. The lingering warmth from her body, the soft scent of her skin, it all clings to me, making it hard to shake off the intimacy we shared. I run a hand through my hair, letting out a slow breath.

Last night wasn’t just about the physical connection; it was about the walls coming down, if only for a moment. Her vulnerability, her trust in me—it was more than I expected, more than I deserved. I sit on the edge of my bed, sighing into the room, trying to make sense of the turmoil inside me.

Our marriage was arranged, a binding of families, a pact sealed with blood. There is no room for emotions, no place for genuine affection. Yet, the way she looked at me, the way she responded to my touch—it was real. And it terrifies me.

I think of Allegra, still sleeping, her face peaceful in the early morning light. The image of her, so open and exposed, stirs something deep within me. I feel a protective instinct, a desire to shield her from the dangers of our world, to be more than just the husband that was forced upon her.

But there’s a darkness in me, a part of my soul tainted by the life I lead. Even though she comes from the same life, her father did a good job of shielding her from the ugly truth of our criminal underbelly. Even though she’s a mafia daughter, I wonder if I’m capable of giving her what she needs, of being the man she can rely on. The fear of hurting her, of not being enough, gnaws at me. Even though we were at loggerheads just yesterday and I know she wished nothing more than to drive a stake through my heart.

Something is different now. Last night, I saw glimpses of who we could be together. The tenderness, the connection—it was there, undeniable and potent. But how viable are we together? How likely is it that we could make a life for ourselves without killing each other or letting our start be the indicator of our end?

I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The house is still, the dawn light just beginning to seep through the curtains. My mind races, filled with thoughts of Allegra, of us.

What we have now is fragile, a delicate balance between duty and desire. I know I need to tread carefully, to protect what we’ve started to build. But I also know that I can’t let fear dictate my actions. Allegra deserves more than that. She deserves honesty, commitment, and a chance at something real.

I step into the shower, letting the water cascade down my body. I notice I’ve thought about nothing but Allegra since the moment last night when I cut that dress off her. In my world, that’s a dangerous thing. Letting a woman cloud your judgement or steal your thoughts could be a very dangerous thing. Not only for me, but also for her if she’s seen as my weakness, and for the future of my whole empire.

“Where’s my wife?”

My patience is wearing thin as I sit at the head of the table. Four sets of eyes turn to me, as though I’m the second coming. Brando’s eyebrows shoot up in question, sensing tension in the air. The maid blushes as she informs me that Allegra is taking her breakfast in her room.

I thought for sure after last night, she’d at least try to make an effort. But no, she insists on making this harder on the both of us. My jaw tightens as I rise quickly, my chair dragging across the floor before I turn and take the stairs two at a time.

I find her sitting up on the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, her breath hitching as I swing the door open.

“Why didn’t you come down for breakfast?” I demand, my voice firm.

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