Page 32 of Scar

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she tells me, holding my gaze.

“Then what?”

“I need to know that you’re safe.”

She blushes as soon as the words come out of her mouth, and I know she’s missed me as much as I’ve missed her. My eyes strain to her chest; she’s wearing a V-neck shirt that does silly things to my nerves as her chest heaves against the fabric.

“We’ll be home soon.” It’s a reminder to myself more than it is for her. Telling myself to keep my cool until we at least get behind closed doors.

She stretches and extends her legs, looking away. I can’t take my eyes off her, but my apparent obsession seems to be causing her some discomfort.

“Tell me about your day.”

She starts to rattle off her day, the time she spent at her father’s bedside, and her mother’s refurbishment of part of the house. She shakes her head shortly and folds her hands in her lap.

“What is it?” I ask her.

“My mother. She has no concept of money management and prioritizing what needs to be taken care of. Even duringeverything happening with my father, she’s occupying herself with spending more money decorating.”

“Well…maybe that’s her coping mechanism,” I explain. I have no idea why she does it, but I feel a visceral need to shoot down all doubts that assail my wife. I don’t want her worrying about unimportant things. Her father’s health, for instance, is more important than the money her mother is spending. Even if they don’t have that money. I know she can’t see that now, and she’s probably just worried about her parents, but eventually, she’ll come to comprehend that unimportant issues are just that. Unimportant and non-relevant.

“I never thought of it that way,” she says. “I suppose it makes sense.”

“I don’t want you worrying about your parents, Allegra. Things have a way of working themselves out. They’re going to be okay.”

“How much did you miss me?”

Allegra emits a small moan and releases my cock, letting it slide out of her mouth. Her big feline eyes stare up at me, full of wanton desire; I don’t need an answer when it’s right there in her eyes. She fists my cock and pumps it, then takes the tip back into her mouth and sucks. Small, short sucks before she opens wide and slides her capable mouth down my entire length. I feel it when I hit the back of her throat, and she gags but she keeps going.

“Fuck!” I hiss. If she doesn’t release me, I’m going to blow down her throat. I try to move away from her, but she digs her nails into my thighs, holding me down. I look down at her from beneath hooded eyes, her desirable body on display for me.

She’s sitting naked on a cushion on the ground between my knees.

I’ve never seen anything sexier. I’ve never wanted a woman more than I want her right now. Right here, in this moment. She’s everything I never knew I wanted in a woman. Everything I never expected. The wife that was gifted to me through a bold oath who now represents everything in me that’s constructed of possession and obsession.

She has become my obsession. The one that occupies all my waking thoughts and all my sleepless nights. Her heart has been merciless in claiming me; we’re now tethered to each other in a way that can never be severed.

The heat in her eyes ignites my fire, and I try one last time to move away from her, but she hangs on for dear life, and I blow my load down her throat. Every last thready spurt. She swallows.

Every last drop.

And when she comes up for air, she wipes at the single drop that has settled at the corner of her lips and takes her finger in her mouth. She licks her finger clean, before she removes it with a loud pop and gives me a shit-eating grin.

Ohhhhh…the things I’m going to do to this woman.

CHAPTER 30 – SCAR

Donna Marone insists on hosting a dinner for our family. Despite only being married to Allegra for a short while, we have already visited her father several times. Donna Marone has always been cordial, never faltering in her polite demeanor. She is insistent on having us all over for dinner, and her persistence wears me down until I finally agree. Allegra's pleading eyes seal the deal, even though Brando audibly groans and rolls his eyes at the thought of another formal dinner. Lucky, always one to make a joke, refuses outright and cheekily points out that he doesn't need anything else from Donna Marone since I already got the “one hot daughter.” This earns him a stern look from Allegra, but he brushes it off easily. And then there's Rafi, who is absolutely smitten with my wife. He eagerly accepts the invitation, flashing me a smug grin as he constantly reminds me of their close bond.

Don Marone is too unwell to join us at the dinner table. We arrive a few minutes early so we can visit him in his room. To my surprise, he has his eyes open and watches us as we enter the room. My brothers sit in one corner, tense and awkward; they weren't thrilled about coming here tonight, but they agreed to come to please Allegra.

I observe the silent conversation between Allegra and her father, filled with love. A twinge of envy tugs at me as I see how much attention he commands from her. His lips turn up slightly in an attempt at a smile, and she responds with a steady one of her own.

Suddenly, my relationship with my own surviving parent - my mother - comes into sharp focus, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Allegra's family. My father was strict and held himself to high principles, but his love for us was never in question. Even during his toughest lessons, there was always an underlying current of unwavering affection. He taught us countless valuable lessons, many of which still resonate within me today. One lesson in particular stands out: empathy is not a weakness, as long as you stay focused on what truly matters.

Despite my initial intentions, I find myself losing focus due to Allegra's presence in my life. Once a pawn in my game of revenge against her family, she now willingly shares my bed and distracts me in ways I never expected. As I try to sort through my tangled thoughts and emotions, I can't help but feel the sting of my relationship with my own mother. Her cold expectations and harsh demands have always been a source of inner conflict for me, clashing with my father's loving guidance and belief in strength and empathy. Now, as I navigate the complexities of marriage to Allegra, these old wounds resurface. Seeing how close-knit and loving her family is only magnifies the void in my own life, where a similar connection with my mother has always been absent.

The memories of my father’s stern yet loving guidance clash violently with my mother’s harsh and unforgiving disposition. My father’s teachings were my foundation, his belief that strength and empathy could coexist becoming a guiding principle. But my mother’s presence, her constant pressure and manipulation, has always been a source of inner conflict.

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