Page 62 of Of Murder and Matrimony

Conversation flowed easily as plates were passed and filled to overflowing with all the food. Something about making food from scratch made the end product taste even better. And since I’d followed recipes written by women with far more culinary talent than myself, it was all amazing.

Everything went well until Ettore opened his mouth, his voice booming over all others. “My compliments, Olesya.”

The entire table fell silent, putting me on the spot for a response. I shook my head demurely. “Oh, it wasn’t me. We all worked together, and the others did far more. They deserve the credit.”

Undeterred, he continued, “Your talent rivals an Italian mamma’s. Just what this family needs.”

I thought I heard Mia gasp, but I couldn’t be sure. The Neretti brothers looked between themselves, stone-faced at their father’s flippant reference to their mother. My heart dropped to my stomach at the swift change in mood. Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I couldn’t let them fall.

Part of life in the Neretti family was persevering through every obstacle placed in your path. Ettore was an obstacle, and I’d have to learn to maneuver around his thoughtless words and actions.

“Who wants more pasta?” I asked loudly, taking Dante’s plate and heaping another spoonful of the noodles into the center before setting it back in front of him. He sent me a sidelong glance but dutifully twirled the pasta around his fork and shoved it into his mouth.

“Down here!” Olivia called out from the other end of the table, passing her plate with a wink.

I breathed a sigh of relief when the conversation struck up again, and the loud, bustling atmosphere returned like Ettore hadn’t opened his mouth at all.

Dante squeezed my thigh reassuringly under the table and leaned over to whisper, “You did well, wife.”

Chapter Nineteen

If Olesya looked ghostly in the moonlight, she looked angelic in the morning sun. I stared down at her sleeping form, honey-blonde hair haloing her head on the pillow, her full lips parted slightly, hands curled under her chin. My wife was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

And I’d awakened hungry.

I carefully pulled the covers off her, pausing when she rolled to her back and nearly smacked me with a flailing arm before it fell across my spot in bed. The movement was perfect; her legs now splayed, and the pink silk nightie inching higher to reveal her bare center. My mouth watered as I worked my body between her thighs.

It was a novel experience for me, waking a woman with my mouth on her clit. I gently parted her lower lips, breathing in her intoxicating scent. My cock was instantly stiff and throbbing, but I quelled my own desire in favor of giving Olesya pleasure. Tentatively, I laid the flat of my tongue against her clit, slowly pulsing it against her. She didn’t wake, so I stroked up, flicking the bud with the tip of my tongue.

That got a reaction. Olesya’s leg twitched, and she tried to close her thighs, but I used my arms to keep them splayed. My thumb pulled the hood of her clit back, and I attacked it with vigor, sucking hard and making my wife shriek as she awoke.

“Dante!” Olesya pushed at my head, but her protests quickly turned to moans of pleasure, her fingers spearing through my hair and curling to pull me closer.

I circled her opening with two fingers, finding her wet enough to slide them deep inside. She whimpered and bucked her hips when I felt that soft, spongy place along her front wall, stroking just enough to make her want more. When I stilled, Olesya practically growled.

“I’m sorry, wife. Weren’t you shoving me away?” I asked, my breath blowing across her exposed clit.

She glared down at me and rasped in a voice thick with sleep, “If you stop, I’ll kill you, Dante.”

“Hmm,” I hummed against her, sucking her clit into my mouth and letting it go with a pop. “Death wasn’t on my schedule for the morning. Your ecstasy is.”

“Fuck,” she hissed as I resumed my ministrations, making her writhe against my touch.

“You’re delicious,” I purred, licking as much of her arousal as I could around my fingers. “I could fucking eat you all day.”

“Less talking. More tongue.” Olesya gasped when I circled her clit with my tongue and flicked the little nub relentlessly. “Like that. There.”

I shoved another finger inside her, watching her pussy lips strain with how full she was. My cock was dripping with the need to be buried inside her hot hole, but I needed to feel her come first. I wasn’t planning on being gentle, and she’d need all that natural lubrication to take me.

Olesya’s thighs began to shake as I worked her harder, driving her to the edge and pulling back just as her inner muscles started to clench around my fingers. I was fucking drunk on her little sounds of pleasure and protest, the way her thighs clamped around my head as she tried desperately to grind her pussy harder against my face.

“Relax,” I demanded gruffly. “I’ll let you come when I’m ready.”

“How the fuck are you not ready?” she panted, fisting the sheets at her side. Heated blue eyes peered down at me, and her brows furrowed with frustration.

“I want you to beg.” I grinned, licking my lips and diving back in, sucking that little bundle of nerves that made my wife lose her fucking mind.

“Fuck you, Dante.” Olesya clawed at my scalp, then at the arm pinning her hips to the bed. “Please, just fucking let me come!”

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