Page 38 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

GIULIA

I press two fingers to my temple, rubbing them in circles to ease the pulsing headache that’s slowly becoming a constant for me. No matter how much pain relief I take, it never drives it away completely—it merely fades to a low hum at the back of my skull.

Stepping into the kitchen, I cross the tiled floor in the dark and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I quickly uncap it and gulp it down, sighing as the cool water slides down my dry throat. I press my head to the fridge with an exhausted breath.

Since the night of Isabella’s burial, when Raffaele left, I haven’t been able to sleep for longer than an hour.

Worry, second thoughts, fear, anxiety—they all press down on me like a ten-ton weight, robbing me of breath.

Every night, I wake up gasping for air, feeling like something is pressing down on my chest.

I miss Raffaele.

After years of sleeping alone or with just my daughter’s tiny body curled into mine, I suddenly miss his big, comforting warmth wrapped around me.

I let out another sigh, and just then, an arm goes around my waist, pulling me back into a hard wall of muscle.

“I’m here.”

I stiffen for a second before spinning around in his arms to face him. “Raffaele. You’re here. How—how are you here? When did you get back?”

And how long has he been watching my pathetic display?

“Half an hour ago,” he tells me. “I was just on my way to your room when I saw you step into the kitchen.”

He bends his head and presses his face into the crook of my shoulder, inhaling greedily.

I shiver as his scent rises up, surrounding me, filling my lungs.

“How was Chicago?”

He hums.

I rake my fingers through the back of his hair. “You must be exhausted. You should?—”

His mouth closes over mine, sealing off the rest of my words. The kiss starts off soft, barely a whisper of mouth against mouth. I surge forward, deepening the kiss, tongue pushing into his mouth. He groans, his hands beginning to slide up from my thighs, taking my nightdress up.

I break away from the kiss to grab his ascending hand by the wrist, breaths coming in hard and fast. “S-stop. We can’t. Anyone could walk in on us. This is my grandfather’s home, for god’s sake. We have to have some respect.”

There’s enough light streaming in from the large kitchen window to spot the way his blue eyes turn the color of a stormy sea. A naughty smile curls his mouth and he pushes me back until I’m against the fridge, his rock-hard cock pressed up against my stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about tasting you all day.” He presses a kiss to the pulse at my throat, his voice a pure against my skin. I gasp as current zaps down my body, toes curling in my slippers. “I can’t wait, Giulia.”

“Raff…” I trail off when his wandering hands finally cup the wet fabric of my panties.

“And neither can you, apparently.”

I watch in a sort of daze as he drops down to his knees, dragging my panties down my legs. Swallowing, I obediently step out of the cotton fabric. Raffaele presses his face to the junction of my legs, breathing in the scent of my arousal.

And then he grabs one of my legs, tossing it over his shoulder before opening his mouth over my wet pussy and sucking hard.

I moan when his tongue drags over my slit. “Fuck… we have to be quiet.”

My fingers grab at his hair, and this time around, his tongue stabs into my wet heat. I let out a strangled cry as he begins to eat me, devouring me like I’m a five-course delicacy.

“Oh god,” I cry when his tongue pushes into me again and starts to fuck me.

Wet, slurping sounds fill the kitchen. He feasts on me without mercy until I’m rocking into his mouth, desperate sounds falling out of my throat.

He drags his tongue up to my clit, making tight circles around the swollen bundle of nerves.

“Raffaele! Fuck! Raffaele, please.” My head falls back, breaths labored. I clench my jaw to hold back my moans. I’ll never be able to live it down if anybody walks down here to investigate what the noise is about and catches us like this.

I should tell Raffaele to stop, but I’m powerless against his relentless mouth and the multitude of feelings he invokes in me. His mouth is magic on my pussy, and the pressure is building up inside me, ramping higher and higher with every swipe of his tongue.

His lips close around my clit again, and this time, he viciously sucks.

If not for the support of the fridge and his hands clutching my thighs tight, I’d have shot up into the sky. I stuff my fingers into my mouth, muffling the scream that rips from my throat as I begin to come.

The dam shatters and my orgasm floods out of me, white starbursts exploding behind my eyes. My legs turn into jelly, and I begin to slide down to the ground, body still trembling with the effect of my orgasm.

When I come to, I’m sitting astride Raffaele on the kitchen floor. My head is tucked against his chest, and he’s leaning back against the center island.

“We belong together,” he’s whispering. “I’m not letting anything come between us ever again. I’m not letting anything rob us of our time together again. Never again, Giulia.”

My body’s still quaking, the aftershocks of his tongue ripping through me like a live wire. My legs barely hold me up as Raffaele rises from his knees.

His lips glisten with me, and the sight of it—god, it’s filthy and perfect—sends a fresh jolt of heat straight to my core. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and keeps those dark eyes locked on mine.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” he growls. His hands are on me again, sliding up my thighs, shoving my nightdress higher until it’s bunched around my waist. “But I’m not done with you yet. I need to be inside you, right fucking now.”

“Raff—” I start, but the protest dies in my throat as he spins me around and presses my chest against the cold steel of the fridge.

My nipples harden instantly through the thin fabric, and I gasp, palms flattening against the surface.

His body crowds mine as he uses his hard cock to grind against my ass.

I can feel the heat of him through his jeans, and it’s maddening.

“Shh,” he murmurs, lips brushing my ear. “You said to be quiet, didn’t you? So let’s see how good you are at it.”

Before I can catch my breath, his hand slips between my legs from behind and plunges into my dripping heat.

I bite my lip hard, stifling a moan as he pumps his fingers deep and curls just right to hit that spot that makes my knees buckle.

His other hand snakes up, wrapping around my throat—not tight, just enough to hold me there, to claim me.

The pressure’s a tease, a promise, and it sends my pulse racing.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he rasps. “You love this, don’t you? Me taking you right here, where anyone could see.”

I whimper, the words igniting something feral in me.

He’s right—I shouldn’t want this, not here, not like this, but I do.

I crave it. The danger, the thrill, the way he unravels me.

His fingers slip out, and I hear the clink of his belt, the rustle of denim as he shoves his jeans down just enough.

Then he’s there, the thick head of his cock nudging against me, teasing my entrance.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demands. His hand tightens slightly on my throat, tilting my head back so his lips graze my jaw. “Say it, Giulia.”

“I want you to fuck me,” I choke out, barely a whisper, my body trembling with anticipation. “Please, Raff?—”

He doesn’t wait for more. With one hard thrust, he buries himself inside me, stretching me, filling me so completely I nearly cry out.

My teeth sink into my lip, drawing blood as I fight to stay silent.

He groans against my neck, low and guttural, and his hips snap forward again, driving deeper.

The fridge rattles with every thrust, the cold metal biting into my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of him behind me.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters, his pace brutal, unyielding. His hand slides from my throat to my hair, fisting it, pulling my head back as he pounds into me. “So tight, so perfect—so fucking mine.”

I’m lost in it, the rhythm of his body slamming into mine, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the dark kitchen.

My hands scrabble against the fridge, nails scraping, desperate for something to hold onto as he takes me apart.

He shifts, angling just right, and I see stars and pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

I can’t hold back the moan this time, and his hand clamps over my mouth, muffling it.

“Still not quiet, baby,” he teases, and there’s a wicked edge to his voice, like he loves pushing me to the brink. His fingers dig into my hip, guiding me back to meet every thrust, and I’m spiraling, the pressure building again, coiling tight and hot in my belly.

He pulls out suddenly, and I whimper at the loss, but then he’s turning me again, shoving me down until my knees hit the tiled floor. I catch myself on my hands, gasping, and he’s behind me in an instant, yanking my hips up.

“Ass up,” he orders, and I obey, too far gone to care about anything but him.

He slides back into me, slower this time, deliberate, letting me feel every inch. His hands grip my ass, spreading me open as he thrusts, and the angle—god, it’s deeper than before, hitting places that make my vision blur.

“Look at you,” he groans. “On your knees for me, right here on the fucking floor. You’re such a mess, Giulia, and I love it.”

I can’t speak, can’t think, only feel. He leans over me, his chest pressing against my back as he uses one hand to rub tight, fast circles on my clit. The other grabs my wrist, pinning it behind me, holding me exactly where he wants me.

“Come for me,” he growls, his lips at my ear. “Let me feel you fall apart.”