Undressed By The Mafia God

She arched into him. Luca’s fingers curled around one breast, squeezing and kneading in his palm.

He found her nipple hardening beneath his touch and tugged gently, drawing it towards him. Vee’s breath caught.

It stole his own. Every damned time. The way she wanted him, even after all these years, after all the things life had thrown between them. She did not merely respond to his body. She answered him.

He called, and she came alive. He coaxed, and she opened. He touched her, and she became wet with anticipation, soft and greedy and trembling in his arms like he was the only language her body understood fluently.

If this was what earth felt like, Luca had no idea why anyone was so desperate to go to heaven.

He pulled away from the kiss, his breathing unsteady, and lowered his head to her breasts. Then he noticed.

They were changing. It was subtle, but he saw it. He knew every inch of her too well not to. The fullness was different. The darker flush around her nipples. A sign of the life growing inside her, of their child quietly announcing itself through her body.

His wife was carrying his baby again. And this time, by God, this time, the world would have to go through him first.

He kissed around her breast slowly, his mouth moving over the soft curve. Vee shifted beneath him, impatient already.

"Luca..."

"I see you," he murmured.

Her fingers tightened in his hair. He smiled against her skin. He drew her nipple into his mouth. Vee moaned instantly.

Her fingers caught harder in his hair, her body writhing already, hips shifting against him with restless need.

His hands moved everywhere, over her breasts, down her waist, along her hips. Then lower again, in between her thighs. He wanted her lost in him.

She was his. Entirely his. Vee belonged to him because he had given himself back to her in equal ruin. Every good part of him and every unforgivable part too.

And what she deserved was everything beautiful. Everything pure. Everything sweet. Which was unfortunate, really, because she had married him, and Luca Genovese was none of those things.

Still, for her, he would try. God help them both, he would try. He lifted his head and looked up at her.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her eyes heavy with want.

"Can you handle this?" he asked.

"Yes, love. I want you." She shimmied down, her hand reaching for him and stroking. "Every damn time."

He kissed her again, then turned her carefully so she faced away from him.

When she pushed back against him, he gave a rough little laugh.

He entered her from behind.

Their earlier release made entry slippery, and seamless. Luca gritted his teeth as he sank into her, every inch of her wrapping around him with wet familiarity.

"Fuck," he breathed.

The position made him feel even deeper inside her. Longer. Harder. His chest pressed to her back, one arm braced near her while his other hand settled over her breast again, squeezing, kneading, as he began to move.

Deeper when she pushed back. Harder when she whispered his name. Vee reached for his hand where it held her breast, her fingers curling around his, urging him not to stop. Her hips met him, stroke for stroke, her body slick around him, her insides tightening and massaging him with every thrust.

Luca’s mouth found her shoulder. Then her neck. He kissed, bit softly and felt her shudder beneath him. "That’s it," he murmured against her skin. "Take me, baby. Take all of me."

Vee moved back into him, her breath breaking into little helpless sounds. She was already climbing again. He could feel it. The flutter of her body. The tightening. She needed release again.

With Luca, she could never keep count. The arrogant bastard gave her one orgasm after another every single time. He made being her first worth it, and he had better damn well make sure he would be her last, because the man had ruined her for anyone else.

"Luca... faster... please," Vee begged. Her body arching forward as she squeezed her thighs, her ass moving back on his cock.

Behind her, Luca grunted, his fingers tightening on her hips. Faster meant he would not last as long as he wanted, and God knew he wanted to stretch this out until morning, until his wife had no strength left to do anything.

But he would never say no to her. He drew back and drove into her harder. Vee cried out, one hand twisting in the sheets while the other reached back blindly for him. The bed was already a disgrace beneath them, the sheets tangled and damp, pillows shoved aside, the whole room smelling of sex.

Luca moved faster, his body slapping against hers, each thrust sending her forward and dragging her back into him. His hot kisses turning rougher when she clenched around him. "Fuck, Bambola," he breathed. "You feel so good."

Vee could not answer properly. She was too full of him, too overwhelmed by him, too completely claimed by the rhythm of his hips. It felt as though her insides were turning out of her. She grabbed his thighs hard, nails pressing into muscle as her body tightened again. "Luca!"

"That’s it," he urged. "Give it to me."

She shattered. Her cry tore from her throat as she soaked him all over again, her body clamping around his cock. Luca swore viciously, holding her steady while she trembled through it, every contraction dragging him closer to the edge he had been pretending was far away.

"Oh God," she sighed, collapsing forward slightly.

Luca slowed his pace. The man was obviously addicted to her. Addicted to touching her, loving her, fucking her. If there was a possibility that he could live inside her forever, God knew he would take it.

But bodies had their own way of announcing limits. His was beginning to announce with great urgency.

He held her close as he pumped into her with slow, heavy thrusts. His breath turned harsh. Vee reached for his hand and held it, her fingers curling through his as though she knew.

"Come for me," she whispered.

Luca buried himself deep, teeth grinding, body driving into hers. His cock pulsed inside her, spilling into her for the second time that night.

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