Page 60 of Secret Mafia Daddy

I cry out his name when I come, suddenly, hitting me like a truck, and Angelo kisses me hard, fucking me through my orgasm until I’m trembling from the aftershocks and on the edge again.

“Want you to come around me one more time, kitten, but I don’t know if I can hold out,” he says through gritted teeth, and I take in a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

It doesn’t work, and as he rolls his hips expertly into mine, I explode around him, black spots appearing behind my eyelids.

Angelo lets out a sound like a growl and a moan against my neck, biting and kissing me there almost gently as he begins to speed up, his thrusts becoming uneven, almost sloppy before he spills inside of me.

I can’t quite catch my breath, and I feel utterly confused. Angelo has never made love to me like that. Never been quite so passionate and intimate. At least not since that first night.

The first night that had made me fall in love with him.

He slowly pumps in and out of me once more, making me gasp, before he pulls out and lies beside me, gathering me into his arms.

“What a wedding day,” I say breathlessly, and Angelo laughs.

“You didn’t like it?”

“I did,” I admit, hiding my face in his chest. “But you put on a great performance.”

Angelo frowns. “What do you mean, performance?”

“The way you acted today,” I say, pulling away to look at him frowning down at me. “You were so attentive. It seemed so real.”

“What if it was real?” he says quietly.

I swallow hard. “What are you talking about? This is all temporary.”

“What if it wasn’t?” he asks, looking at me intently.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, pulling away from him and sitting up on the end of the bed.

“I assure you, I do,” Angelo says, sitting up, unashamedly naked as I wrap a robe around myself and cinch it at the waist.

“Don’t do this to me,” I say in a half-whisper, looking away from him.

“Don’t do what? Listen, Catarina, something happened to me today. I’ve been looking at this whole thing in a new light,” he explains, his brown eyes lighting up.

“A new light?” I ask incredulously. “This time a little over a week ago, you wanted to kill me.”

“I would have never killed you,” he says, sounding exasperated. “That was just a threat.”

I glare at him. “So, you just threatened me because, what? You were bored?”

He sighs. “It wasn’t like that. You were a witness, you grew up in the life, you know—”

“Exactly,” I say flatly, pacing around the room. “I grew up in the life and I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

He sets his jaw. “Even if you had someone to protect you?”

“Especially then! I grew up under my father’s thumb, Angelo. I want to be my own woman. I want to have my own life.”

“And you will,” he insists. “You do. You have me and Chelsea and—”

I cut him off. “I do not have you.”

“Yes, you do, Catarina. That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” he says, standing up, still unworried about his nudity. I struggle to keep my eyes on his face.

“I don’t understand,” I say quietly, and Angelo comes toward me, and I back up away from him.

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