Page 9 of Dark Mafia Bride

“Fuck,” I groan, grinding against her once more. “You like that, right?”

“Yes,” she moans, her hips pushing up to meet mine as I pound into her.

Her pussy clenches around me, and I curse, digging my fingers into her sides as her pussy squeezes me and makes me lose any control left in my body. Her muscles tense as her climax rolls through her body, and I watch her buck beneath me, desperately trying to escape the waves of pleasure.

Her cries of satisfaction echo throughout the room just as I feel my own orgasm hit me. I grip the sheets beneath me andthrust one final time before collapsing beside her with a heavy thud.

Our bodies are slick with sweat by the time we finally collapse beside each other. She lays her head on my chest, and my lips unconsciously pull upward.

“I thought you didn’t say sweet things during sex, or…” she yawns softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “how did you put it? Cuddle afterward?”

I chuckle, my chest vibrating beneath her. “I don’t.” But I leave out the part where she’s different—how something about her has me breaking rules I’ve lived by for years all in the span of a few hours into meeting her.

She snuggles further into my body, and I realize I don’t hate it. Worse, I actually like it. The feeling of her soft, sweaty skin pressing against mine. The feeling of her steady, warm breath ghosting across my skin.

This...feeling helps me understand why people cuddle after sex. It makes me wonder if I could have more of this...

As her breathing evens out, I know she’s fallen asleep. My eyes grow heavy, too, and as I bury my nose into her auburn hair, inhaling the subtle scent of her, a final thought crosses my mind just before sleep claims me.

This can’t end as a one-night stand.

3

MIRABELLA

Iwake up with a jolt and see the sun is up.

The sun is already up!

Damn it. I never sleep in. I’m always awake before dawn, racing the sun to get to my first shift out of my three daily jobs. The early light slips through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room.

My heart pounds as my mind scrambles to catch up. It feels as if I’m still stuck in a dream, but the memories swirling in my head aren’t from a dream.

The unfamiliar softness of the mattress beneath me, the solid weight of an arm draped over my waist, the dull pulse between my legs, the slow, steady breathing near my ear...

It’s real. So fucking real.

Ettore.

His name rushes back to me along with flashes of last night—the rain, the alley, the fear. And then...him. The tension between us, the dinner, the hotel, and...oh, God. My pulse quickens, but no longer from the panic.

Memories of his touch burn my skin all over again. My heart pounds as I lie there, still as a statue, afraid to even breathe.How did I let this happen? Why the hell did I have sex with a stranger? A stranger who kills people...

I turn my head, and my gaze falls on Ettore. He’s still fast asleep beside me. His dark, brooding face looks softer in sleep, almost...angelic. The hard lines of his jaw and the intensity I saw in his eyes last night have completely faded. He doesn’t look like the dangerous man who saved me from Abruzzi’s men. He doesn’t look like a killer. He looks...peaceful.

God. I don’t even know this man. He only gave me his first name, and all I know is that he’s dangerous enough to kill. Yet last night, I acted as if none of that mattered. I convinced him—no, I practically begged him—to sleep with me. To take my virginity because I thought I might not live to see another day.

My Nonna is going to chop off my head. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I groan inwardly. The worst part? I wasn’t even that drunk. There’s no alcohol-induced haze to blame it on. I did it fully aware, fully sober, and now the guilt and shame are twisting in my stomach. I can already picture Nonna’s face, that stern, disappointed glare she gives when I step out of line. She’d probably lecture me about my choices, about self-respect, about letting a man likehimanywhere near me.

But somewhere deep inside, beneath all the shame, I know I don’t regret it. Not entirely.

Because if I’m being honest with myself, last night was unforgettable. I can at least brag about that, right? About how my first time was nothing short of...amazing. Mind-blowing, even. Alessia, my best friend/professional sex-enthusiast and the thorn in my flesh, always goes on and on about how incredible it can be, but I never understood—until now.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and gently pull the sheets back, slipping out of bed as quietly as I can. I need to leave now before he wakes up.

But what if he does wake up? What do I say? What do I do? What if he treats me like one of those random hookup girls I’m sure he’s used to? I’ve seen enough movies to know how painfully awkward that could be.

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