Page 62 of Of Oaths and Secrets

I’ve never felt this before, this overwhelming need to submit to someone’s pleasure, but it consumes me now, and I revel in it. Each time he thrusts, I feel the tension in his body building, his moans turning into ragged gasps. He’s close, so close, and I want to push him over the edge.

“Nora… fuck,” he growls, his voice a deep, guttural sound that sends another surge of heat through me. His hand tightens in my hair, and his hips jerk as he begins to lose control, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate.

I moan again, my body trembling with need, on the verge of coming just from the act of pleasing him. Every sound he makes, every pulse of his cock in my mouth, drives me closer to the edge, even though I’m not being touched. I want him to come, to fall apart in my mouth.

And then he does.

With one final, broken groan, he thrusts deep, his cock swelling as he spills into my mouth. The taste of him floods my senses, and I swallow it all, drinking him in as his body shudders above me. His grip on my hair tightens one last time before loosening, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

I stay there, on my knees, my lips still wrapped around him, savoring the moment—the taste of him, the sound of his ragged breathing, the feel of his body trembling in the aftermath of his release. I’ve never felt more powerful, more connected than I do in this moment.

With a soft sigh, I release him from my mouth, his now-softened cock slipping from my lips. Rafaele lets out a deep breath, leaning back into his chair, his chest still rising and falling with the remnants of pleasure. I watch as he tucks himself back into his pants, his hands still trembling slightly as he fastens his belt.

He looks down at me, and the intensity in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat. "You were incredible," he murmurs, his voice low and full of admiration. "Perfect. So damn perfect."

I bask in his praise, warmth spreading through my chest. I rest my cheek against his thigh, letting the sensation of being close to him settle over me like a comforting blanket. I tell myself I’ll return to being detached later, that this doesn’t have to meananything more than the physical. But right now, in this moment, I want to stay like this, wrapped up in his presence, feeling his warmth and strength.

His fingers drift through my hair so gently, as though I’m something fragile. It strikes me how those same fingers could easily bring pain, could wield cruelty without hesitation. But here, with me, they’ve only been soft. Loving.

His phone vibrates on the desk, but he doesn’t stop caressing my hair. I close my eyes, letting the rhythm of his touch soothe me, but the phone buzzes again, then a third time, insistent.

I sigh, tilting my head slightly. “You should get that.”

He inhales deeply, clearly reluctant. “Yes, I should.” But he doesn’t move, his hand still tangled in my hair, his thumb tracing lazy patterns against my scalp.

I give him a small, knowing smile. “Business comes first,” I remind him gently.

The look he gives me in return is unsettling—not because it’s harsh or distant, but because there’s a hint of confusion, maybe even hesitation. As if, for the first time, he’s questioning that principle. His gaze softens, and for a brief moment, he looks almost vulnerable.

“You are the light, Nora,” he says quietly, his voice so soft it feels like a confession. “I hadn’t planned for you.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, filling the space between us with a meaning I can’t fully grasp. But before I can ask him what he means, the phone vibrates again, and this time, he reaches for it with a resigned sigh.

I rise slowly, smoothing my dress as I take a step back, giving him the space he needs. As he answers the call, his tone shifting back to the cool, controlled man I’ve always known, I slip out of the office, leaving him to his business.

But as I close the door behind me, his words still echo in my mind.

I hadn’t planned for you.

And for the first time, I wonder if maybe… neither of us is as detached as we want to believe.

Chapter Sixteen

Rafaele

Things have shifted even more between us since that moment in my office—her abandonment, the pleasure, everything. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I always thought I was damaged, that the part of me that men seemed to revel in didn’t exist. I’d even accepted the idea that I might be a sociopath. Not that I ever minded. It helped with my life, with my line of work, and having complete control over my body had always been an advantage.

That advantage is gone now—completely obliterated. But at least there’s only one person who has this effect on me, and that’s my wife. The smartest, kindest, most beautiful woman who ever walked this earth.

Who says sinners don’t deserve a miracle? Because God, or fate, or whatever, probably gave me the biggest one of all.

Even now, sitting in my brother’s club, officially charged by my father to investigate Fredo’s disappearance, I can’t stop thinking about her. The strippers are moving, showing everything they have, but my body doesn’t react. They do nothing for me, and I couldn’t care less.

My thoughts inevitably drift back to Nora. The memory of her kneeling between my legs, her wide, innocent eyes on me as her soft lips wrapped around my cock, sends a surge of heat through me even now. The sensation of her mouth—warm, wet, and eager—sliding over me was overwhelming, almost unbearable in its intensity. Her tongue, tentative at first, then bolder, tracing every ridge, every inch of my flesh, had me gripping the chair for control. I could feel her submission in every movement, the way she gave herself to me completely, trusting me to take what I needed. That moment—her mouth, her surrender—was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. She was mine, and the way she let me have her, fully and without reservation, set something primal in me alight. I craved her surrender, and I loved the way she gave it—completely and without hesitation. In that moment, she was mine, and I knew I’d never want anything less thanallof her.

“Ready?”

Leo’s voice snaps me back to the present, catching me off guard—something that never happens. I quickly compose myself, hoping he didn’t notice. Even in the dim light of the club, I can see the dark circles under his eyes. Paolo told me Leo had a rough time at the warehouse, vomiting more than once. I don’t feel guilty though. He needs to see the consequences of his actions—the dark, grim reality of the world we’re in. I’ve sheltered him for too long, cleaned up after him for too long.

---