Page 49 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“You know enough.” I started toward the bed. “You know that I never wanted to be don, I used to box, and I need to get my wife pregnant in the next three months. There’s nothing else you need to know.”

She clutched the covers tighter at my approach, her fingers turning white. “That can’t be true. I-I found that photo. Of you and that girl. Who is she?”

My muscles tightened, fear sinking deep into my bones. Emma could tell one of her brothers-in-law about that photo, about my sister, and my life would never be the same. It was bad enough that Virga knew about Viviana. I couldn’t let Emma discover my sister’s existence, as well. “You don’t need to worry about her. She doesn’t concern you.”

“Is she your cousin?”

Fuck this. We weren’t having this conversation.

I bent and grabbed the covers in one fist and pulled hard. The cloth slipped out of Emma’s grip and fluttered onto the floor. Her small body was revealed, covered in a blue pajama set. The cotton shorts accented her toned legs, and the loose top hinted at her tits. I usually liked enticing lingerie, the kind with lace and satin, but this almost-masculine getup was so Emma that I found it charming. And somewhat sexy.

“Take off your shorts.”

“W-what?” She scrambled to sit up and hugged her legs. “Giacomo, get out of here. I was almost asleep.”

“Cazzata, you were on your phone. Take off your fucking shorts, Emma.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t. I told you, I’m on the pill. We can’t have sex.”

“We’re not having sex. But we are going to do other things.”

She pushed a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. “Sex isn’t just vaginal penetration. That’s a very misogynistic way of looking at—”

I put one knee on the bed and placed my hands on her legs. She shut up immediately, her wary gaze going wide. But she appeared a heartbeat away from kicking me in the face.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, trying to quiet my voice. “I want to make you feel good.”

“How?”

“Just trust me. You will like it.”

Her expression didn’t change in the least. “I want to know exactly what you plan to do. I need to give consent, Giacomo.”

Most women eagerly spread their legs for me. Lucky me, I married the one woman in all of Sicily who didn’t want my tongue or my cock.

Sighing, I yanked her legs apart and wedged my body between them. I wished Emma would relax and let me do as I like. But I was coming to know her well. Something told me nothing less than a full explanation would do.

“First, I will strip off both these shorts and your panties. Then I will bend down and lick your pussy until you come.”

Plump lips parted on a swift intake of breath. She looked incapable of words, so I grabbed the waistband of her shorts.

“Wait!” She covered my hands with hers, stopping me. “I’m not sure I want you to do that right now. It feels, I don’t know, sudden.”

“Trust me, wife. If you had only ten minutes to live, you’d beg me to suck on your clit and make you come. It’s going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

She nibbled her lip, like she might be considering it. I rubbed my palms over her smooth skin to convince her. She didn’t pull away, which I found encouraging. “Ready?”

“No,” she said. “Even though we’re married, I don’t want to start trading sexual favors.”

“Emma, I’m not doing this to get something in return.”

That caused her to roll her eyes. “All men do this to get something in return.”

I didn’t like that. Especially because she wasn’t altogether wrong. I was doing this to gain her obedience, her cooperation. But this was no hardship. I loved pussy. And something told me Emma’s would be superlative. “I don’t want a blow job, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

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