Page 487 of Rosetti Family New York
"Color?"
"Green, green, green," she moans like a mantra, and I slap her again, harder this time.
"You feel so fucking good," I growl, fingers digging into her soft flesh. "So fucking tight around my cock."
She meets me thrust for thrust, taking everything I give and demanding more. Even blindfolded, she somehow finds my rhythm, her body moving in perfect sync with mine.
"That's it," I rasp, pressing my thumb against her clit as I fuck her. "Take my cock like a good girl."
"Oh god, Van, Sir, I'm close again…"
"Not yet, greedy girl." I slow my thrusts, keeping her right on the edge while my cock throbs inside her. "You come when I say."
I can feel my own orgasm building, pressure coiling at the base of my spine. But I want her to fall apart first, want to feel her pussy clench around me as she comes.
I increase my pace, thumb working her clit in tight circles while my cock drives deep with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, along with her desperate moans.
"Please, Sir," she begs, her voice breaking. "Please."
"Now," I command, pressing down hard on her clit. "Come for me, Carmela."
Her second orgasm rips through her, her back arching off the bench as she screams. Her pussy clamps down around my cock, milking me with rhythmic pulses that push me over the edge.
My own release tears through me with brutal intensity, more powerful than anything I've felt in years. I bury myself deep inside her as I come, filling her with hot spurts of cum while her pussy continues to pulse around me.
For long moments, we stay joined, both breathing hard, neither willing to break the connection. My cock is still semi-hard inside her, her pussy still fluttering with aftershocks. Then, reluctantly, I slide out of her slowly. I remove her blindfold first, checking her eyes for any signs of distress. Then the cuffs, massaging her wrists where faint marks remain.
Soft blanket around her shoulders, water to rehydrate, gentle touches to bring her back to herself. I check her pulse points, monitoring her recovery.
"How do you feel?" I ask, cataloging every response.
"Amazing." She curls against my chest, still boneless from her releases. "Like I could do that every day for the rest of my life."
Something twists in my chest at those words. This was supposed to be about duty - protecting her, fulfilling my obligation to theRosettis. But somewhere between her first surrender and feeling her pussy clench around my cock, duty evolved into something far more dangerous.
Obsession.
I want to possess her completely. Not just sexually, though Christ knows I want her body in every way possible. I want to own her smiles, her thoughts, her future. I want the Rosetti name that comes with her, the family power, the resources that will help me protect what's mine. I want it all.
14 - Carmela
The transition from Van's private room to Aurelius feels like stepping between two different worlds—from intimate confession to family performance in the space of a car ride. My skin still hums with awareness from our latest encounter, the memory of Van's possessive touches echoing through me as we walk into the restaurant where my Chicago cousins wait to judge whether I've grown strong enough to deserve their respect.
"You grew up with this," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "Remember that."
He's right. I did grow up with this—the careful choreography of mafia meetings, the weight of unspoken power filling a room. I still don't know if Van knows the extent of my family's business activities, and I can't imagine a disciplined and principled soldier like him would have signed on to protect me if he had, so I keep my response vague.
"Yes, they're family," I say.
But it's been years since I've seen my Chicago cousins, except Dante, and everything feels different now. I'm different now.
Sofia rises from her seat, looking like she stepped out of a fashion magazine in her cream silk blouse and perfectly styled blonde waves. "Sofia!" I call, and despite her cool elegance, she breaks into a smile when I rush around the table and pull her into a hug. I catch her expensive perfume, somethingFrench and deadly sophisticated. Last time I saw her, we were both playing the part of protected dolls. Now there's something sharper in her smile, like she's been honing herself into a blade while I was running away to art school.
"You look so grown up and serious!" I say, meaning it as a compliment, but she stiffens slightly at the words.
"We can't all play at being runaways," she says, waiting for me to drop the hug so she can sit back in her chair.
I turn to Marco. My oldest cousin hasn't changed much, still devastatingly handsome in that cold, controlled way that makes people either want to follow him or run from him. His dark suit probably costs more than most people's cars, and when he looks at me, I feel the full weight of his authority. This is the man who runs the Chicago Rosetti empire now.
