Page 118 of Captured Fantasy

I watched her disappear through the front door in a crowd of women. Lucien appeared at my side, digging into his pocket and removing a cigar. I accepted it and shook his hand.

“Thank you for walking Enza up, it meant a lot to her not to walk alone,” I said.

Lucien looked me in the eye for a long moment.

“She’s yours now, Cosimo,” he said. “She’s had a lot of people—men—hurt her, so whatever you do, don’t be just another one.”

“No, sir, I won’t,” I said swiftly.

“Good. Now let’s go to the living room and have a drink while the women do whatever the hell it is that women do.”

As we entered the living room, Duran appeared with Amadeo behind him. He looked thinner and paler than I remembered, but it was good to see him out of his house and not at a bar. Or doing a bump off the back of his hand. I knew Lucien was thinking the same thing because his eyes raked over Amadeo as he congratulated me and his cold gaze narrowed. I scarcely had time to watch the rest of their interaction because suddenly every underboss in the city was shaking my hand.

“You got a stunning one there, Barone,”Lucidius Di Meosaid.

“Thank you, I did,” I agreed.

“Drink,” Duran said, appearing at my elbow with a glass of bourbon. “But not too much. You don’t want to disappoint her later.”

Everyone laughed and someone said something about the sex tape of myself and Enza. Someone else hushed them. I shook my head, not caring anymore. I had what I wanted and nothing else mattered. I sat back and had a cigarette with Duran.

“My wife was fucking terrified on our wedding night,”Lucidius remarked. “She was a virgin though.”

“I hope you cut her some slack,” said Duran, raising a brow.

“Course I did, I fucked her gently,” Lucidius said. “But I wasn’t about to let her wake up the next day with her cherry intact. I’d waited a whole fucking year for her and I kept my dick in my pants the whole time.”

“An extraordinary feat,” said Lucien. “For you.”

It was almost a half hour later when the men began to disperse and find their way to their seats in the dining room. I headed out in search of my wife, but Duran caught my elbow and pulled me aside.

“If you want, there’s a guest suite on the second floor,” he said quietly. “Iris just texted to tell me that Enza is up there alone, if you would like to have a minute to yourselves before the meal is served.”

“Yes,” I said. “I would like that. Very much.”

I climbed the stairs to the guest suite and knocked gently on the door. There was a long silence before knob turned and my wife appeared. Her makeup and hair were freshened and her veil was gone, replaced by a single white rose pinned into the knot of hair at her neck. I didn’t stand on ceremony.

She gasped as I shut the door and pushed her against it, pressing my mouth to hers. Fuck her perfect makeup, fuck her pretty dress, I needed to taste my wife.

“No sex,” she gasped, breaking away.

“No sex,” I agreed. “But I am going to make good on my promise. Get in the bathroom.”

She obeyed without question and I followed her into the spacious room and shut the door. Our overnight bag was on the floor and I retrieved the plug I’d stowed there earlier in the day.

“Bend over, baby,” I ordered.

Her pupils were blown and her mouth was swollen from my kisses as she bent over, keeping her gaze on me in the mirror. I gathered up her layers of frothy skirts and flipped them over her waist. Her white, lace thong was nestled down the middle of her round ass. I bent her over as far as I could, lifting her beneath her lower belly to spread her open. With one hand, I peeled her thong down and let it fall around her ankles.

“I’m going to plug you now,” I breathed. “I know how fucking wet it gets you and I want you dripping down your thighs during dinner. Like I said you would be.”

“Yes, daddy,” she moaned.

I took a plug and lube from the velvet bag and began prepping her to take it. She bit her lip hard, her cheeks flushed. Her pussy was slippery beneath my fingers as I worked lube between her thighs. Our eyes met in the mirror as I began working the plug in. She moaned, pressing back against it like such a good girl, and it slipped inside.

“Leave your panties on the floor,” I said, lifting her up. “I want you bare underneath.”

I took my wife down for dinner, plugged, soaked, and desperate beneath her pretty skirts. Exactly the way I preferred her. She would smile beside me, dance in my arms, and wave goodbye to her wedding guests. Perfect as the day I’d watched her walk into that bathroom, fresh and pretty. But like that day, what was between her thighs told a different story.

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