Page 59 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

Chapter Seventeen

Luciano

Seeing Ian dance with my wife made me want to shoot the motherfucker and get rid of him forever. But the beating I gave him would have to do. For now. It seemed my father was right; I was blind when it came to Grace. Finding out that Ian was Alphonso’s lover was a major surprise.

But right now, none of it mattered. Only my wife in my arms, her pussy around my cock. I would never let her go. Annulment was a bullshit excuse. I’d make her love me, stay with me. Forever.

“I’m yours.” Her soft voice and her moans were an addiction. She was my addiction. I thrust inside her, my fingers digging into her soft flesh. It was home; she was home.

She froze, and I instantly followed suit. “What’s the matter, Tesoro?”

Fuck, I hope I wasn’t too rough and hurt her.

“We need a condom,” she breathed.

Resentment swam inside my chest. I was her husband. How many men did she put a condom on? I pushed the thoughts away. She was mine. She told me she was mine. I’d make her keep that word for the rest of our lives. I was hers and she was mine, from this day forward.

“No.” I thrust up into her again, the heat and tightness gripping my cock. Her head fell into the crook of my neck, her moans she tried to hold back right at my ear. “You are my wife.”

I pulled her dress straps down. They fell off her slim shoulders, exposing her strapless nude bra, and I reached behind her to unhook it. Her full breasts at my full view.

“Luciano, we need a-”

“You are my wife,” I repeated and bent my head to take her nipple in between my teeth. I tugged on it with my teeth, and a sharp cry escaped her. I grabbed her hips once more, moving her hard on me. She ground against me, up and down, her clit against my pelvis. Her moans became louder with each pump.

I was so close to exploding. I gritted my teeth hard, wanting to ensure her pleasure before mine. She disarmed me, stripped away all my fucking reason, and she wasn’t even trying. You’d think I was a teenage boy having his first fuck. Because this was what my wife did to me every single time. Every time with her was better, new, and all-consuming. She was my storm and my calm. She had the power to tear me to pieces.

“Luciano, I’m so close,” she moaned, against my lips.

I reached between our bodies and rubbed her clit, her body grinding against mine, her tight pussy around my cock.

“Ask me to come inside you,” I demanded, my voice rough. Her moans were loud, her breathing labored. I watched her pale skin flushed through heavy lids, and she looked like a goddess riding my cock.

“Ask me,” I groaned, ready to explode.

“Please come inside me.”

Another thrust and she exploded around me, her insides clenching around my cock and her moans in my ear. With a heavy groan, I followed her right over the edge. I forced her to move against me, to prolong the high, this fucking feeling I missed for the last three years.

I buried my head in her hair, my hand against her chest. Under my palm, her heart thundered hard, just like mine.

My heart beat followed hers, beating only for her. Just like my life was only hers.

Chapter Eighteen

Grace

Iwoke up with a warm body pressed against my back, a man’s strong arms around me. In Luciano’s bed. I slept with my husband. And had sex. Numerous times. My body was enveloped in the sweetest exhaustion. And my heart… oh my heart!

My heart melted. With every word he whispered last night, every promise he gave and every endearment he called me. Some I understood; others I didn’t.

I was a fool to ever think I could just use him for sex to sate my craving. It was always so much more with Luciano. I tried to put up my walls after our fling in the car. I really did. Then we got home and he pretty much swooped me up into his arms and strode into the house, his mouth colliding with mine. Then straight through toourbedroom. Like I was his new bride. Just like he did all those years ago.

“Luciano, stop it,” I whispered softly, never ceasing my fingers as they trailed across the keys of the piano. His warm mouth trailed soft kisses along the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Yet my neck tilted on its own will, just slightly, in order to accommodate him better. It has been like this with him since the beginning. My body always accommodated his touch, needing it. “We’ve been married for a month now. We aren’t newlyweds anymore.”

My fingers continued to caress the keys, tunes of Gnossiennes No. 1 echoing softly through Luciano’s empty house. I always loved music. It was something I inherited from my mother. This has always been one of my favorite melodies, the memories of my childhood warmed my chest. I’d be sitting by the fireplace with my father as I watched my mother play, her graceful fingers moving over the keys with practiced ease. She was an opera singer, but she loved to play the piano.

This grand piano that Luciano had was just as impressive as my mother’s. Although for as long as we’ve been married, I never heard anyone play. I wished my mother’s piano was here. It was part of our family for generations. Part of the Astor legacy.

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