Page 111 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“No,” she panted, bracing her hands on my chest, her breasts swaying just out of reach of my mouth. “I want you to come for me.”

Who was I to argue? The most beautiful woman in the world was riding my cock, determined to send me into oblivion. I was the luckiest man alive.

I thrust up as she dropped down, drawing a sharp cry from her lips as I shoved myself even deeper, making her take every inch of my throbbing member. My thumb found her sensitive little clit, roughly working it as I felt the first tremors of her orgasm.

“Dante, finish,” Olesya begged breathily. “I’m coming.”

I didn’t need her to tell me, but her declaration made my balls tighten, and I felt my release rushing up my shaft, exploding into her tight depths as her pussy milked every last drop from my cock.

I threaded my fingers through the dripping strands of her hair, pulling her down so our lips crashed together, shoving my tongue inside, wanting to fill as much of her as possible. She collapsed onto my chest, her head resting on my shoulder, lips pressing against my throat in little fluttering kisses that made my dick twitch inside her.

“I love you,” I rasped, rubbing her bare back. “We should get you inside before you burn.”

“Love you, too.” She squinted at the sun and nodded. “You’re probably right. Plus, it must be nearly lunchtime.”

Reluctantly, we dressed and headed back to the house, showering together and finding fresh clothes before going down to eat. Martina laid an artfully arranged charcuterie board on the kitchen table with a bottle of chilled white wine.

“Oh, this is perfect,” Olesya gushed, sipping on the wine and popping a slice of apple into her mouth. The pinkish skin on the apple matched the gauzy dress she wore. “You’re amazing, Martina.”

“Don’t you forget it,” the housekeeper said with sass. “I’ll leave you two to it. I’m going to go get off my feet for a bit.”

I grinned as I ate and watched Olesya eat twice the amount I put away. She impressed me at every turn. One day, I was going to have an eating contest with her and see which of us would win. I suspected I might lose that one.

“Do you have everything you need for Sunday dinner tomorrow?” I asked, brushing my hand along her forearm. I couldn’t resist touching her as often as possible.

Olesya nodded and swallowed a bite of cheese. “Yeah, I think so. I’ll double-check with Martina.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I answered the call from the front gate. “Yeah.”

“Don Neretti,” the guard greeted me. “There’s somebody here to see you. I think you’ve been expecting him because he’s on the approved list.”

“Send him up,” I answered. “Tell him to wait in my office.”

“Yes, Don Neretti.”

I ended the call and grabbed another cracker, adding cheese and meat slices. The front door soon opened, and I heard my men and another familiar voice I hadn’t heard in months. They passed the kitchen and headed down the hall to my new office. Formerly my father’s, I’d had it renovated in record time, even ridding the room of the stench of cigars and whiskey. Now, it was brighter, like the rest of the house. Eventually, I would erase every oppressive memory my father left behind. His cruelty would never touch the next generation.

“Is something wrong?” Olesya asked, smoothing my furrowed brow with her fingers.

I caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. “No, just somebody here to see me. Why don’t you head out to the patio, and I’ll meet you when I finish?”

“I can do that,” she said, smiling sweetly. She grabbed her glass of wine and a few more crackers, then kissed me on the cheek. “See you soon, love.”

I watched her ass sway seductively as she left, then stood and took a moment to control my visceral reaction. It wouldn’t do to walk into a meeting with my cock tenting my suit pants.

Buttoning my suit jacket, I strode out of the kitchen, only to find my naughty little wife crouched at the bottom of the stairwell, staring at something by my office. I snuck behind her, peering around her lithe body to see what caught her interest.

In an alcove at the end of the hall, Diego stood with my cousin Luca, his thumb brushing over Luca’s cheek before threading his thick fingers through Luca’s dark, wavy hair. When he pulled the other man close, I covered my wife’s mouth with my hand and drew her back to me, muffling her cry of surprise.

“It’s not nice to spy on people,” I whispered in her ear, sucking the lobe into my mouth. “Come with me. We’ll make a louder entrance.”

I guided her back to the kitchen, then tickled her without warning, making her laugh loud enough that Diego and Luca couldn’t miss our approach. Sure enough, Luca was standing restlessly in my office when we entered. He looked like he’d lost weight. His face was thinner, and his black suit hung loosely on his tall frame.

“Don Neretti,” he rushed, his face paling at my stern expression. His eyes had taken on a more haunted look than I remembered.

“Luca,” I greeted him, sitting behind my desk and pulling Olesya into my lap.

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” he continued. “But I swear, I had nothing to do with what my father or yours did. I’m innocent. I can prove it.”

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