Page 77 of The Deadly Candies

The scent of cocoa butter and Jean Naté hit him like a right hook. All those expensive perfumes, and she wore the cheap ones for sex, which he loved. He was in her before he even realized it.

“Missed you, big man,” Debbie murmured as she nuzzled his ear, her tongue tracing a slow, wet path along the sensitive skin. Matteo groaned in response. “We did it, baby,” she continued, her voice alight with a mix of triumph and desire. Matteo’s heavy breaths and relentless, determined thrusts overwhelmed the room, leaving little room for words. With her eyes closed, she surrendered to the rolling tide of their passion.

Her body slid up then down in a sensual rhythm—hips rising and falling as his measured, powerful thrusts punctuated each heartbeat. In that moment, she felt as though she were locked in combat with a champion, someone who had fought grueling battles to protect his sanity and stay true to his mission. Every clash and victory had led him back to her, the man in whom she had always believed.

“Aaah yes, Matteo,” she groaned, the sound quivering with both pleasure and longing.

Matteo’s head lifted, his eyes clouded by tears as he sought her out with a desperate, consuming kiss. Though she strained to please him fully, she knew that in this state, it was best to let him command the fervor; his pent-up desire simmered just below the surface, threatening to erupt if disturbed. Amid grunts and the rhythmic cadence of their union, she giggled and teased, “We finally did it, baby. All of us—yes, even Junior’s here sleeping in his room.”

Matteo grunted, fucking her harder and faster.

“Do me from the back,” she added with playful insistence, fully aware of the secret thrill in his eyes. For a heartbeat, Matteo froze. Then, with a fluid motion, he turned her over. Debbie’s face sank into the soft pillow as she bit it lightly, angling her hips higher and thrusting her enticing ass into him, inviting him to claim her with the energy he had in reserve.

As his control faltered, his strokes grew harder and quicker, each impact a powerful reminder of his lustful strength—and she welcomed every strike.

“Fuck me, baby, fuck me, oooh, harder, yes, baby, c’mon daddy, harder, I can’t feel it, fuck me,” she cried out, her voice raw with need.

“Debbie, stop,” he wheezed, his tone pleading yet firm, as he continued to wrestle with restraining the Butcher inside of him that would slaughter her pussy. Debbie lifted her head to meet his gaze. He paused to let her shift. She got up on her hands and knees. With the room heavy with anticipation, her eyes sparkled with a daring invitation. “I can handle it. I’m your woman, Matteo. I’m the only one who can, remember,” she cooed provocatively.

Matteo shut his eyes tight, fighting an urge to scream out how desperately he craved her. He was being gentle. He’d been gentle since his return. He wasn’t like that when he came back from Vietnam, and it scared him, it scared her. But she soothed his beast and met his demands. She was his.

With a controlled precision born of sheer will, he came back up behind her and reentered slowly—but not before delivering a playful, yet commanding spank. Debbie’s soft cry of surprise mingled with delighted giggles, and he shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

Matteo ran his hands smoothly over her sweaty ass and down her thighs, and then lifted them both so her legs could lock bakward around his waist. Putting her into a wheelbarrel position, standing at the foot of the bed with her elevated and hands flat to the mattress. And he fucked her hard with precision. Debbie’s breasts swayed, her cries of passion reduced to high and low pitches as he went as deep as he knew to be possible.

“You’re trying to make me crazy,” he grunted again, slipping into that uncontrollable state. On the verge of exploding in a torrent of passion like the night he created their youngest child.

She responded with a mischievous laugh and bucking making his dick slip out of her slippery channel.

“Oh yeah? Two can play that game, Debs,” he challenged, grabbing her thighs and yanking her firmly until her body pressed flat against the bed. With a swift, intimate maneuver, he positioned her to the edge of the foot of the bed, the top of her body flat to it, her ass on display as her knees nearly touched the ground. He came up behind her, lifting her legs and dropping them on her shoulders. Putting her pussy in his face.

He diverted his attention from his own desire to explore and please her with his tongue. Her muffled cries of pleasure were swallowed by the mattress as he coaxed an intensity from her that was utterly new, tearing away tears and soft pleas until nothing remained but raw ecstasy.

Then, as if releasing all the pent-up passion at once, he reclaimed her fully. He fucked her with relentless vigor on the floor until exhaustion overcame them both. She shuddered, unable to speak. Matteo lifted her from the floor and carried her back to the bed.

Collapsing beside her on the tangled sheets, he watched as she lay stretched out, panting and gasping, her eyes wide with disbelief and satisfaction.

“Don’t tease me like that again,” he chided softly, his hand delivering a light smack to her ass.

“Sorry,” she purred, drawing closer to him and placing gentle kisses along his jaw and neck. “So sorry, baby. I’ll be good next time.”

“No, you won’t,” he chuckled, his voice warm with affection.

Debbie nestled atop his chest, her sigh a soft testament to their shared intimacy. “I love you, Matteo.”

“Then marry me,” he whispered, the weight of his longing and hope evident in his tone as he sought her steady gaze.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Tomorrow,” she replied with a lazy yawn, her body pressing tenderly against his.

Matteo’s eyes sprang open wider, his heart raced with renewed anticipation—had she just agreed to marry him after all those hesitant proposals? He peered down at her, his voice tentative yet filled with joy, “We can just get in the car, take the kids, and head to the courthouse first thing.”

She leaned in to seal their plan with a soft kiss on his chest. “Let’s get married,caro.”

With a gentle reassurance, Matteo began to rub her back. “That’s right, bambina. Let’s get married.”

23

Harlem, New York – 1949

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