Page 98 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

Hugging my clothing to my chest, I straightened. “Because you said it’s time for bed. I assumed you wanted to sleep alone.”

“I don’t. I want to sleep with you. Allora,” he said and motioned to the bed.

Another firework in my chest, another burst of giddiness, and I bit my lip to keep from grinning. “Is this in case you need your prostate massaged at some point in the night?”

He chuckled and rubbed his eyes. “Get in bed and shut up, moglie.”

Dropping my bundle of clothing, I climbed into his bed and buried myself beneath the covers. It was going to be a tight squeeze but I didn’t care. “I like your room,” I told him as he crawled in next to me.

“You do?”

“I do. I can tell you’re comfortable here.”

He settled behind me and pulled my back to his front. He was better than a weighted blanket, surrounding me with heat and pressure. It was nice.

“My father didn’t like this side of the house. That meant it was my favorite.”

How sad. I wanted to know more about his childhood, his family. “I don’t think I would’ve liked your father.”

“He was a stronzo. No one liked him.”

“Not even your brother?”

“My brother was an even bigger stronzo. They were like two beans in a pod.”

“Peas.”

“Cosa?”

“Two peas in a pod.”

He kissed the back of my head. “So smart, my bambina.”

The use of the word “my” wasn’t lost on me, and I melted into the mattress. “Have you ever had a woman in your room before?”

“You are the first. Fitting, no?”

“Why? Because I’m your wife?”

His thick thigh wedged between my legs and he pressed closer. “Because I was the first man to touch your pussy, to lick it and fuck it.” He sank his teeth into the back of my neck and rocked his hips against my backside. “I have laid claim to you.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to contain the happiness I felt. I shouldn’t find his barbarism so thrilling, but I did. “You make me sound like a castle, or something a knight would win in the spoils of a war.”

He exhaled heavily into my hair, then found my free hand and threaded our fingers together. “You, Emma Buscetta, are my reward for the cruelty and misery I endured in this house. You are the only good thing to live under this roof for almost two decades.”

I fell asleep with a sappy grin on my face.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

Giacomo

Steam filled the glass enclosure as the hot water pounded my back. I leaned against the tile and stretched out my sore muscles. Making babies was hard work. My body felt like I went eleven rounds last night.

I left Emma sleeping in my bed. She looked too peaceful there to wake up, even if my dick had demanded attention. Maybe I needed a bigger bed. Then Emma could sleep with me every night, instead of in my father’s old room.

The glass door clicked and I turned to see my wife step into the shower. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her breasts high and firm. The nipples were already furled into little points and it made me want them in my mouth.

“Hi,” she said shyly. “I hope you don’t mind if I get in, too.”

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