Page 68 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
Her pace starts slow, deliberate, her nails raking down my chest as she rises and falls, every movement dragging me deeper, tighter. She’s relentless, her hips rolling, grinding, and every time she moves, her body clenches around me in a way that drives me closer to the edge.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” I groan, my hands sliding up to her waist, steadying her as she picks up the pace. Her moans fill the room, soft at first but growing louder with every thrust. She tosses her head back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and the way her body arches is nothing short of divine.
“You like that?” she breathes, her voice shaking but laced with teasing defiance. “You like it when I take you like this?”
“I love it,” I rasp, bucking my hips upward to meet her movements. She gasps, her nails digging into my skin, and I know I’ve hit the spot that drives her crazy.
I thrust up harder, faster, matching her frantic rhythm, and the sound of our bodies colliding fills the room. Her moans grow desperate, her movements more erratic, and I can feel her tightening around me, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.
“You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you?” I say, my voice rough, dark. “I can feel it. You’re so close.”
“Yes,” she cries, her hands bracing against my chest as her hips slam down harder. “Yes, Luca. Don’t stop.”
“I’ll never stop,” I growl, gripping her hips tightly, guiding her movements as I thrust up into her, pushing us both to the edge. “Come for me, Valentina. Show me who owns this perfect fucking body.”
Her cry is raw, broken, as she shatters above me. Her body clamps down around me, milking me, and I can’t hold back any longer. My release hits me like a freight train, hot and powerful,spilling into her as I groan her name, my body shaking with the force of it.
But as her cries fade, they shift, turning softer, broken in a way that makes me freeze. My eyes snap open to see her trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks as she collapses against my chest, her body still shaking.
“Valentina,” I say softly, sitting up slightly to wrap my arms around her. She buries her face in my neck, her tears hot against my skin as her shoulders heave with quiet sobs. “Hey, hey…I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
“I’m scared,” she whispers, her voice choked. “Of everything. Of loving you. Ofthis.”
I hold her tighter, one hand stroking her back, the other cradling the back of her head. “It’s okay,” I murmur, my lips pressing against her temple. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
Her sobs tear through the room like shrapnel, each one embedding itself somewhere I didn’t think could hurt anymore. Her head is buried against my chest, her fingers clutching my shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her from unraveling entirely.
“Valentina,” I murmur, my voice low, careful, like I might scare her off if I say the wrong thing. The absurdity of that—that I could scareher—claws at me. My hand moves down her back in slow, deliberate strokes, each motion saying what I can’t seem to articulate:I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
She pulls away, just enough for me to see her face. Red-rimmed eyes, cheeks blotched, lips trembling. Her tears glisten in the dim light, and it guts me, because this woman—this fierce, unyielding woman—doesn’t cry without reason.
“This isn’t fair, Luca,” she whispers, her voice jagged with pain. “It’s not fair to me, to Leo, to?—”
“To you?” I interrupt, the words harsher than I intend, but the frustration is boiling over. “Do you think this is fair for me, Valentina? That I’ve spent every goddamn day trying to buildsomething for you, for our son, only for you to keep running from me?”
Her eyes narrow, a flash of defiance cutting through the sorrow. That’s my Valentina. Always ready to fight me, even when she’s breaking.
“I ran because I had to,” she fires back. “Because youdon’t listen.You think power solves everything, that you can just control every situation?—”
“That’s because power is the only thing that’s ever worked!” I snap, standing abruptly. Her absence has been a wound I’ve been carrying for years, and now, with her here, ripping it open again, it’s too much.
She flinches, but only slightly. Her gaze doesn’t waver, and that’s how I know this fight is different. She’s not just angry—she’s devastated.
I turn away, pacing to the window, needing the space to gather myself. The night presses against the glass, cold and indifferent, while my chest feels like it’s about to collapse in on itself.
She doesn’t say anything, just sits there, quiet but unyielding. The silence between us is deafening, but I force myself to break it.
“I’m sorry,” I say, surprising even myself, especially since I actually mean it. I turn back to her, and she’s watching me, her expression unreadable. “I don’t know how to do this, Valentina. I don’t know how to be what you need me to be.”
Her shoulders sag, and the fight drains out of her. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Luca. I just need you to try. For me, for Leo…for yourself.”
For the first time, the weight of what she’s asking hits me. She’s not asking for control or dominance or any of the things I’ve spent my life perfecting. She’s asking for vulnerability, for honesty.
I go to the desk, pulling out the envelope I’d been holding onto for days. When I hand it to her, her brow furrows.
“What is this?” she asks, her voice wary.
“Plane tickets,” I say simply. “Two of them. One for you, one for Leo. The flight is tomorrow evening.”
