Page 19 of Fierce Vows

Chapter Seven

This Means War

Rafe

My wife declared asilent war on my behalf, and I’m not sure if I could be prouder of her.I also want to strangle her because it means spending more time away from Rhode Island and our true home there.

I settle for recompense in sinking my cock deep into her asshole while Luca sharpens his knives in front of her nose, explaining why each one is so blunt.

She apologizes with her lips on every single blade and thanks him for the hours of tireless work he has put in on both our behalf like the good little mafia queen she is.

And we worship her for it.

Her cries fill the kitchen as she grips the bench tight.I slather cream from her dripping pussy over the root of my cock, working the extra slick into her as she squirms on my length.

Luca lays the last—and largest—blade out for her to thank.

She presses her lips to it dutifully.“I appreciate the hours you put in, Luca,” she whisperers, managing not to gasp as I sink balls deep into her.“Thank you for your loyalty to Rafe.”

He sheathes the knife on his belt and kneels, cupping her face in his hands and stares into her eyes, making his vow.“You are my Don’s wife, my once lover, and my friend.You have my greatest respect.But don’t blunt my knives, beautiful woman.Please,” he begs.

She laughs, leaning back to impale herself impossibly on my cock.“I wouldn’t dream of it, my friend,” she promises and milks an orgasm from me, surprising us all.

This woman.

My wife.My queen.

There is nothing I won’t do for her.

I clean us both as well as I can in the kitchen and carry her to our rooms, running the shower.She curls on the floor in her dress, ripped at the side where I threw it in my haste to enter her tight, warm body, and lets the water run over her, smearing her makeup.

My breath catches as I strip my shirt off, leaving myself barefoot in the bathroom, wearing only my black slacks from the wedding and the belt I used once to whip her ass for bratting out on me.

“You are so fucking beautiful, my wife,” I whisper, stepping into the shower where I join her on the tiles and cradle her to my chest.

Our clothes are soaked through, sticking to our skin, but none of it matters.Only her as she smiles into the crook of my neck, leaving a trail of sweet kisses and licks along my inked skin and tells me tiredly of all the things she wants to do while we remain in Cyprus.

I hold her until the water runs tepid then strip us of our clothes, wash her carefully and dry her the same.She sighs contentedly in my arms as I carry her to our bed where, for once, we don’t make love or fuck, just sink into the thick mattress and sleep, wrapped in each other.

****

Cyprus’ cerulean bluewaters lap at the base of my compound where I sit high above the water line looking out over the ocean at a horizon dotted with cruise ships and cargo liners, the occasional pleasure yacht.I have one, though we haven’t used it.Eduardo can have it for all I care.

He stands at my back, a steady presence, though I am still getting used to his stubbornness.I’ve gestured for him to sit several times, but the damn man refuses, and for that I hate that I like him a little more.The right person to entrust Cyprus to.The Gallo territories here will be well run in our absence.

Which makes this meeting the final one for this trip.Then I can pack up, and go the fuck home.

Across from me, the man who was my father’s best friend eats squid’s ink pasta, his front already stained with the sweet, black sauce.I top his wine glass up, though it’s not quite midday.Germundi Lacanto was my father’s greatest rival and friend, though he is not mine.His empire has long since run its race.They fought over many things, and our mothers were close, for a time.

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