Page 45 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
“Come for me,” I command, my voice raw, my thrusts deep and punishing. Her eyes meet mine, and with a strangled cry, she falls apart. Her body convulses around me, her nails raking down my back as she shudders through her climax.
The sight of her, the sound of her, pushes me over the edge. With a low growl, I thrust deep one final time, my release hitting me like a tidal wave. I hold her there, pressed against the wall, our bodies trembling together as the water washes over us, mingling with the heat of our sweat and passion.
When we finally catch our breath, I pull back just enough to look at her, brushing her wet hair from her face. Her lips curve into a soft, satisfied smile, and I can’t resist kissing her again, slow and tender this time.
As the water cools and the steam begins to fade, I reach over and turn off the shower, holding her close to me for a moment longer. Her body is soft, pliant, still trembling from the waves of pleasure I’ve wrung from her. She rests her head against my chest, her breaths evening out as I stroke her back, grounding her.
“You’re perfect,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her damp hair. She hums softly, her arms still looped lazily around my neck, and I know she’s moments from drifting off. But not yet.
I scoop her up again, her wet body fitting easily against mine as I carry her out of the bathroom. The room is cool, a stark contrast to the heat of the shower, and she shivers slightly. I set her down on the edge of the bed, grabbing a soft, oversized towel to wrap her in.
She leans into my touch as I dry her off, her eyes heavy-lidded but watching me with a contented, sleepy smile. I can’t help but chuckle, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face before grabbing one of my T-shirts from the dresser.
“Here,” I say, slipping the soft fabric over her head and helping her guide her arms through the sleeves. It’s ridiculously big on her, the hem brushing her thighs, but seeing her wrapped in something of mine does something to me.
“You’re doting on me now?” she teases, her voice low and drowsy, but there’s warmth in her tone.
“Always,” I reply. I tuck her under the covers, smoothing the blanket over her before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I head to the kitchen, signaling the staff as I pass to prepare something special. By the time I return, a tray is waiting outside the bedroom door. I bring it in carefully, setting it on the nightstand: a steaming mug of hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cocoa powder.
Her eyes light up when she sees it, and she pushes herself up slightly against the pillows. “You spoil me,” she says, her smile soft and adoring as I hand her the mug.
“You deserve it,” I say simply, sitting beside her with my own. She takes a small sip, her eyes fluttering closed as the warmth spreads through her.
When she finishes, I set her empty mug aside, slipping back under the covers with her. She curls into me instantly, her head resting on my chest as I wrap an arm around her, holding her close.
Her breathing slows, her body relaxing completely against mine as sleep claims her. I watch her for a moment, brushing my fingers lightly through her hair.
“Sweet dreams, angel,” I whisper into the quiet room, pressing a kiss to her temple. Her soft sigh is the only response Ineed as I hold her tighter, content to stay like this for as long as she needs.
The night settles around us, the moonlight filtering through the curtains to illuminate the soft curve of her shoulder. Her breath evens out, warm and steady against my chest, and I let myself drift into sleep beside her, holding her close.
When morning comes, I wake to the faint sound of cutlery downstairs and the scent of coffee wafting through the air. The bed beside me is empty, but I can still feel the ghost of her warmth. I take my time freshening up, pulling on a casual button-up shirt before heading down to the dining room.
The table is a picture of indulgence: freshly baked pastries, a bowl of vibrant fruit, golden pancakes topped with whipped cream, and a pot of steaming coffee in the center. Valentina sits at the table, her hair loose and slightly tousled, one of my oversized shirts draped over her like a second skin. She looks up when I enter, her lips curving into a soft smile that makes my chest tighten.
“You let me sleep in,” I say, sliding into the chair across from her.
“You looked like you needed it,” she teases, taking a sip from her coffee. “Besides, breakfast is better when you don’t rush.”
I pour myself a cup of coffee, watching her as she cuts into a pancake. The morning feels warm and easy, the kind of moment I’d hold onto if I could.
We eat in companionable silence for a while, the clink of silverware and the quiet hum of the city outside filling the space. I’m halfway through my plate when my phone buzzes on the table, the screen lighting up with a name I can’t ignore.
Valentina’s gaze flicks to the phone, and I catch the way her brows furrow slightly. “You should take it,” she says, her tone light, but there’s something in her eyes—curiosity or maybe annoyance.
I sigh and pick up the phone, pressing it to my ear. The voice on the other end is terse, rattling off updates that make my jaw tighten. I keep my responses clipped, my gaze occasionally darting to Valentina, who’s watching me closely now.
“Handle it,” I say finally, ending the call and setting the phone down with more force than I intended.
She leans back in her chair, her fork resting on her plate. “Everything okay?”
“Business,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I think she’s going to let it go. But then she speaks, her voice measured. “It always seems to be nothing until it’s everything.”
I meet her gaze, my brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
