Page 79 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
I arch my back, taking him deeper, and his hand slides up my spine to support me.
My thighs burn from the exertion, but I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. And I don't want to.
I've spent a year trying to forget how perfectly we fit together.
"Look at me," he commands.
I open my eyes, my body tightening around him as the tension builds. His thumb finds where we're joined, rubbing.
“Oh!” I gasp as pleasure coils tighter.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Come. Fucking come, Gabriella.”
My release detonates, exploding through my body, making me shudder, my pussy pulsing around him like it never plans to stop.
“Yes! Fuck yes!” His fingers dig into my hips as he bucks underneath me.
For a moment, we move wildly as we hold on to the first waves of pleasure.
Then our bodies slow until I’m completely boneless and collapse against him.
His arms wrap around me, holding me close as our heartbeats gradually slow.
I rest my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the humid air.
This moment of peace won't last. It never does with us.
And right on cue, Marco tenses beneath me. His eyes widen with alarm as he firmly lifts me off him.
“Fuck.”
My legs are wobbly, but I finally steady them and move to sit back on the bench across from him.
I don’t say anything, wondering what he’s specifically upset about. There’s so much to choose from.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He stands, hastily wrapping his towel around him and pacing the small space.
I’m getting the sense that his distress isn’t the usual, like I’m too young or I’m Antonio’s daughter, or he doesn’t want a relationship.
His dark eyes bore down on me. “I didn’t use a condom.”
Oh, God. That is bad.
Reality crashes back with brutal force. I’m not quite sure how to respond considering how he feels about family.
“Fuck!” He bellows again, and now I’m getting annoyed. I know this situation is problematic, but I can’t help but take his reaction personally.
“You need to relax?—”
“Relax! Fucking hell, Gabriella… you could be pregnant.” He lets out an angry growl. "I can't be a father. I won't be."
It’s the anguish behind those words that has my anger lessening. I reach out my hand to him, but he pulls away.
"Marco, look at me."
When he finally turns, the vulnerability in his eyes breaks my heart. Here’s a man who faces danger for a living but is terrified at the prospect of being a father.
"It's okay," I tell him, meaning it.
