Page 109 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“Stop teasing me, woman.” Dante’s fingers curled into a bruising grip on my hips, holding me still as his jaw flexed with the effort it took to hold off. “Get off on my cock. Stroke that little clit, and let me feel you suck the come from my balls with your pussy.”

“You might have won back in that Colorado forest,” I breathed as I reached down, touching the swollen bud and pressing back and forth. “But I bet I can win now.”

“Fuck,” he hissed when I rolled my hips as he thrust, my inner walls tightening around him. “Either way, I still win.”

Dante’s hips slammed against mine, and he had to tighten his hold so I wouldn’t fly up the bed with every brutal thrust. I bit my lip and gripped his wrist with my free hand, letting my nails dig into his flesh. His eyes were on fire as he stared at me, heedless of the sweat dripping down his brow and onto my breasts. I would take everything from him and keep it safe in my heart.

My mouth dropped open as I felt the first wave of my orgasm, and Dante’s breath caught as he watched.

“Now,” I gasped. “Fill me now.”

“Fuck it out of me, piccola fantasma,” he demanded, thrusting erratically.

I rolled my hips again, feeling him swell in me, then fell apart, shuddering against him. His cock glided in and out of me, then he filled me, come pulsing deep in my pussy as he groaned my name.

“I love you,” he rasped, his forehead touching mine as his body fell over me, cocooning me in his fiery embrace.

My eyes fluttered, and I forced myself to focus on his beautifully content face. “I love you, too.”

He carefully pulled out, looking down and chuckling. “Good girl. You kept my come in you.”

I giggled, and his smile turned into a frown.

“Naughty wife.” His fingers shoved inside me, drawing a gasp from my lips. “No laughing. You pushed it out.”

That only made me giggle more, and he rolled his eyes, feigning disapproval before flopping to the bed next to me and pulling me against his chest. His muscles relaxed in less than a minute, and soft snores rumbled from his chest as he fell into a deep, much-needed sleep.

I crawled out of bed, cleaned myself up in the bathroom, and then dressed comfortably in wide-leg lavender linen pants and a floral sleeveless blouse. All that physical exertion made me hungry, and it was breakfast time. I hoped Martina had made some of her Saturday specialty—cannoli.

The kitchen was empty when I walked in, but a tiered platter sat at the end of the counter, piled high with fresh cannoli. I grabbed a plate and selected three—one with only cream filling, another dipped in chocolate, and a third garnished with chopped pistachios.

I took a big bite of the cream-filled delight and prepared a cup of coffee, gathering everything and heading toward the back patio, intending to enjoy the cool morning air while I ate. As I passed Ettore’s office, I saw the open door and heard movement inside. I slowed, lingering in the doorway and watching Don Vero sort through papers on the desk.

“Are you supposed to be in here?” I asked, perhaps foolishly, stepping into an area I’d always avoided. It smelled like Ettore’s stale cigars, and I reminded myself he was no longer a threat.

“Ah, piccola cosa selvaggia.” He smiled disarmingly. But after what I’d seen the previous night, I knew danger lurked underneath the sweet old man on the surface. “How are you this morning, carina?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” I answered, standing my ground as he set the papers down and came around Ettore’s desk, stopping in front of me and looking at what I held.

“I am glad to hear that.” Arturo reached out and patted my cheek gently, then kissed each side. “And I see you have found sweets.”

Before I could object, he plucked the pistachio-covered cannoli from my plate and finished half of it in one bite, grinning mischievously. Before, I thought I’d seen Dante in his father’s actions, but now I could see that my husband took after his mother’s side of the family. I’d have to remember to tell him that later.

I lifted a brow at Arturo. “I don’t know what you’re used to in Calabria, but here you take your life in your hands by stealing food off a woman’s plate.”

He laughed heartily, the joyful sound booming in the expansive office. “You have spirit. I like that.”

“Good,” I offered him a smile in return. “Because that’s not changing. Dante loves me as I am.”

“I can tell.” He nodded thoughtfully. Then his face transformed before me, and I felt my smile falter as his eyes narrowed. The temperature in the room seemed to drop when he rubbed his fingers over his jaw. “You are loyal to my grandson. But I will make myself clear. If that loyalty ever falters—if you betray him—I will return to defend his honor. Dante loves you too much to seek vengeance, even if you tear his heart out. I am not so sentimental. Capisce?”

My skin raised at his threat. I gulped and nodded. “I understand.”

The congenial grandfather returned, and he spread his arms and smiled widely. “Brava! Come, mia nipote, food is better when shared.”

I let Arturo lead me outside, where he regaled me with stories from his homeland, and I fell under his spell nearly as hard as I’d fallen for my husband.

Chapter Thirty-Three

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