Page 36 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia Don

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” he prompts again, firmly. “Thetruth.”

I struggle to find words for it.

“I feel like I’m falling, and I don’t have anything to grab onto,” I finally admit.

He nods, as if he understands.

He runs water through my hair, washes away the heady scent of sex with lavender soap. Once I’m clean and dried off, Nico wraps me up in one of the white robes hanging on the bathroom wall. He takes me to bed and brings me a bottle of water from the minibar, ordering me to drink it.

“You don’t have to do all this,” I mutter.

“Yeah, I do,” he says, crawling into bed to kiss the top of my head. “Nobody lets themselves be broken unless, deep down, they really want to be put back together.”

My throat works and comes up empty of words.

“I meant what I said,” he whispers into my damp hair. “It’s not just pointless sex talk. You did so well.”

The gentle words and his soft touch make me recoil inwardly.

“Don’t,” I whisper.

“Ava,” he interrupts sternly, his hands just a little too rough on my arms, giving me an anchor point. “Let me catch you.”

Time stretches out on itself. Nico holds me in his arms and showers me in praises, filthy and loving. Gradually, I feel like I’ve come back to the surface, where everything is suddenly too sharp and too loud, and Nico holds me through it all, my only life raft. I give in and curl up with him, letting him hold me.

When I’m calm, and warm, and too tired, Nico leaves me to rest.

He goes to shower while I lie in bed, warm and clean and utterly spent. A tight knot of hunger has been living in my belly for all this time, unnoticed, until Nico came and pierced it, draining all that heavy tension out of me.

The past couple days catch up to me. After my late night, and now all this, exhaustion comes fast and sudden, and within minutes, I drift off into an empty, numb sleep.

Nico mercifully lets me sleep through his precious, limited time, but eventually he wakes me with his weight against me, his cock already teasing against my aching pussy. I’m still dazed and sleepy, and we make out and touch more than we fuck. I’m too tired to mind, and Nico feels good above me, pressing me back into the mattress.

Slowly, he wakes up the fire in my belly again.

Over the next hour, Nico takes me in the bed. Slow, still waking up. Neither of us finish. He moves us to the office, where he puts me over the desk. He fucks me from behind, his hand clenched in my hair and his cock hitting hard inside me. When we first start, I think I’m too sore to orgasm, that I’m just here for his pleasure. Instead, I come twice, shuddering and screaming over the desk as Nico fucks me like an animal—insatiable and raw and perfectly him.

I squirt for the first time, making a clear little puddle on the marble floor between my shaking feet. I’m left a sobbing, aching wreck.

I don’t have time to be embarrassed.

Nico groans when he realizes the mess I’ve made for him. He hammers his cock deep in my soaked pussy and finishes hard, his low growl becoming a snarl. I shake head to toe as he holds me primed in his savage grip. I’ve barely heard him make a sound—always so intense and focused—but now he can’t help himself. My slick, dripping pussy draws it out of him, and by the way he curses, I know he didn’t expect to finish again during this session. Like it hurts him to come so many times in a single night. It makes me blush hotter with flattery instead of embarrassment.

He puts his head on my shoulder and groans softly, his hand sneaking around to rub my belly.

We fall back into bed together again, and this time, Nico’s shoulder is my pillow, and I crave all those whispers of adoration he gives me. I take them from him like a feral cat sneaking hand-fed treats, wary but unable to resist.

We drift into silence for a few minutes, hazy and tired, but my thoughts still spin. I latch onto one, one last lifeline.

“Are you doing all this just so you can get back your role in the family?”

“You think I need an excuse to want you?” he asks, so simply that I barely know what to say. He traces the bumps of my spine with his fingers. “Are you thinking about our deal?”

“No,” I lie, unconvincingly. “I just don’t see why else you’d care so much.”

“You said it yourself. Even if the marriage falls through, Sal and Marcel will find some other trick up their sleeve to fuck me over. They might not be good at much, but they have that down to a science. This deal isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“Why?”

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