Page 19 of Mafia Heir's Broken Vows

He did nothing—he ran away and left me.

I laugh bitterly. "Safe?" God, I hate that word. "You think this is safe? Marco is hunting me, my business is destroyed, and you—you're still hiding things from me. Claiming you left to protect me—bullshit Alessandro! You just don't want anyone else to have me, and now that I have a life and a business and I escaped the war you started, you want to come fuck up my life and call it protection. I'd rather have Marco than this."

At least Marco didn't kill my brother, at least he is a devil I know.

Alessandro steps even closer, the air tense between us. "I am not hiding anything."

"Really? Then tell me why you really left. Where you went? Tell me why you thought it was okay to disappear and leave me to face what you did alone." I am seething, he has no idea what life was like for me trying a raise a son amongst the wolves.

His silence is answer enough.

"That's what I thought," I whisper, my words cutting through the air like knives. Omertà. The unspoken code. They never discuss their work—not with outsiders, not even with family. It's sacred. Their silence is a vow, a bond forged in blood and fear. To betray it is unthinkable, a death sentence. Absolute loyalty, no matter the cost.

It is fucking stupid, and cowardly. Men are idiots—mafia men are even bigger idiots.

His hand slams onto the wall beside me, caging me in. His breath is warm against my cheek. "I left because I had no choice. I didn't choose to go; I didn't want to go. I had to. Staying would have gotten you killed."

I would have rather died than lived through those first months without him.

"And now?" My voice softens, trembling. "What's your excuse now?"

He won't stay—I won't allow myself to think about a life where he does. Alessandro ruined my life—he ruined me.

The tension escalates,and I hold my breath waiting for an answer.

His lips crash into mine, fierce and rough. I should push him away—God, I should—but I don't. My hands grip at his shirt, pulling him closer as need surges through me.

He tastes like whiskey and regret.

His grip tightens around my waist, dragging me flush against him. His kiss deepens, and gets more desperate, tasting of lust and desperation. My fingers slide up into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against my lips. The kiss was fueledby every unsaid word, every unhealed wound between us. This is angry kissing; it's all the love and hate mixed into a moment's pleasure.

He backs me into the wall, his hands roaming over my hips and up my spine. Every touch is possessive, claiming. The air feels charged, sparking between us. My body betrays every protest my mind tries to come up with. I want to push him away—to pull him even closer.

"Tell me to stop," he growls against my lips. Stop.

But I can't. I can't say it, because I don't want him to stop.

Instead, I answer by yanking at the buttons of his shirt, aching to feel him. His hands lift me up effortlessly, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the desk, sweeping aside papers and his laptop with a reckless hand. The solid wood bites into my back, but I don't care.

His mouth trails down my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from me. I arch against him, needing more—more of his hands, his mouth, his weight pressing into me. Alessandro doesn't stop, he knows what I need, what I want, without me saying anything.

His hands slide under my shirt, rough palms against my sensitive nipples. Pinching, teasing them, making my skin tingle and pussy clench with dripping need. My breath stutters, desire burning away the last of my resistance.

His thumbs hook under the waistband of my tiny panties, and a seductive smile plays on his lips as I lift my hips and arch my back. I close my thighs, just enough so he can slide them off in one swift motion. There is no turning back now—I missed the chance to stop him. I'm naked in front of him, perched on the edge of his desk. Alessandro drops to his knees, he teases me, flicking my clit with his tongue. Swirling over it before he licks up and down my lip. He uses his finger to slide inside me, massaging against the most sensitive parts of me. He wraps hislips around my sensitive swollen button, making me squirm, and moan, taking me there—pure bliss as I orgasm. Bucking and grinding against his face, using him to make myself feel good.

There is no more teasing. He has me to the point where I am dripping wet, another orgasm so close I can feel it building. He slides his throbbing, hard cock into my needy, wet pussy. The first thrust is hard, unapologetic, and deep. I take it, and he doesn't hold back. He stares into my eyes as he holds himself deep inside me, grinding against my swollen, sensitive clit. He lifts my one leg so that he can go deeper, harder. He plays with my hard nipples, not breaking eye contact at all.

"Don't stop." I pant, my eyes begging him to keep going.

"I'm not going to stop." He growls, his hardness banging against my G-spot. His thick shaft stretching me open, filling me so full I could barely hold off the waves of pleasure shuddering through me. "Come on my cock." He says in my ear, a command, I want to defy him—but my body won't listen. My pussy pulses around him, clamping his cock inside me as I ride out my orgasm. Alessandro moans and his grip on me tightens, he throws his head back as he empties himself deep inside.

Our breaths are, ragged and uneven, as we finally pull apart. Alessandro's hands linger on my waist, steadying me. My skin is flushed, tingling where he touched me, and my mind fights the reality of what just happened. How could I just lose all control? Why did I let this happen?

I stare at him, my chest rising and falling rapidly. "This doesn't change anything," I whisper, though I don't believe it.

Alessandro's thumb brushes along my jaw, gentle where everything else had been rough. "Doesn't it?"

I push him back, sliding off the desk. Fixing my clothes, my legs are shaky, but I force myself to stand tall.

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