Page 6 of The Devil's Demise

His love, his devotion ... it pours from everything he does. Everything he says. He knows just what I need, whether it’s in the bedroom or outside of it. He somehow knows me even better than I know myself. And that says a lot because I know myself pretty damn well.

When we got married in a beautiful, simple city hall ceremony, I never expected our life to be so good. Before we reunited, I thought I’d be alone, especially after I refused to marry Michael Marino, the son of the don of the Messina crime family. But I’d never let my father control me that way.

Though I never admitted it out loud back then, I wanted someone. I wanted the kind of love I’d read about in the books I’d spend hours digesting.

And Dom? He gave me that and so much more. My childhood best friend became my lover, my husband, and I never thought we’d get that far after I lost him when we were thirteen.

“Harder!” I beg.

My voice is needy, my lips brushing his, my toes curling as my body scorches up like flames have set it on fire.

“Yes, just like that ... oh fu—” I stammer when his thumb rubs circles around my clit, making my walls clasp around him while his gaze holds mine.

Whenever he looks at me when we’re tangled in madness together, it makes our connection that much more tangible, that much more profound. Because with him, it’s not just sex. It’s something magical.

“That’s it, baby. Take that cock. Remember who you belong to.” His voice is fierce, spearing me with urgency, and I feel it—the need to unravel.

His fingers spear through my hair, his cock growing harder, until with another powerful thrust, we crash and burn into the fire together.

His heavy chest falls over me, sweat peppering his skin, now slick against mine.

“Next time . . .” I pant. “You’re a mechanic, and I’m a girl stuck on the side of the road with a flat.”

This will definitely not be the last time we try this. Wow.

“Do I end up fixing your tire?” He breathes heavily, his heart racing against my own.

“Yeah.” I grin. “Then you fuck me in the back of your car, because obviously I have no money to pay you with.”

“Obviously.” He chuckles, throaty and raspy. “Only if you’re in a pair of tiny-ass jean shorts.”

He squeezes my hip possessively, and I swear my pussy quivers.

“That can be arranged.”

“Shit, Chiara. I’m getting hard again just thinking about it.”

“Mmm,” I purr against his neck, my long nails riding up his spine.

He bows his hips into me, and I hiss.

“So damn sensitive since you got pregnant. Always so willing to fuck.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

My hands are on his ass, loving how hard it feels within my touch. He rears back away a fraction, arching a brow.

“I think I do if we count the amount of times your mouth woke me up in the middle of the night.” A lazy smirk falls over his lips.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.” I narrow a playful gaze.

“Oh, I loved it, baby.” His palm falls to my face, cradling my cheek. “Your dirty mouth sucking me dry while you touch your wet pussy, waiting for me to stretch it out . . .” His thumb brazenly brushes over my lips. “What’s not to love?”

“We should probably get dressed and head home. We have the party tomorrow.” The great thing about owning my own club is I get to have managers and I don’t have to stay until closing.

“Okay.” His voice goes sultry and deep-toned, making my insides shiver. He kisses in between my breasts before tucking his forearm under his chin and gazing up. “Did I tell you I love you today?”

I let out a soft laugh, my cheeks warming.

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