Page 13

13

Stella

I had forgotten how messy sex could be.

But then again, I’ve never had it without a condom other than the one time…

I’m too exhausted to even give that memory a second thought. Almost every muscle in my body is tight and achy even after hours of sleep. I recall every single second of what caused the aches, despite those glasses of champagne I chugged.

Andre didn’t take his hands or mouth off me, or dick out of me, until the sun came up.

There may have been some begging on my part, urging him on, telling him not to stop.

The sex was…wow, so much better than I expected. Better than all the times before with men and the solo orgasms from a vibrator put together.

I had assumed my new husband would be cold and selfish, in and out, so that getting himself off as fast as possible would be his sole priority, thanks to my time limited offer.

Instead, he spent as much time, if not more, on making it good for me than he did for himself.

Sprawled out beside me on the mattress, my husband looks equally exhausted as he sleeps soundly on his back. One of his hands reaches over, resting on my hip. His long fingers stretch across my pelvis, as if even in his sleep he didn’t want to let me go.

Lifting his hand and moving it aside, I slip out of bed and head for the shower.

I feel gross but in a good way this time. I’m sweaty and sticky all over, some of which is not my sweat or my other fluids, but still, I’m…content. How could I not be after I lost count of the orgasms?

And I’m a little disappointed there won’t be any repeats of last night.

Not unless I decide I want Andre again.

But then, belatedly, I remember that despite how sexy his big body might be or how good he is at sex, he’s still a Ferraro, and more than likely, his boss took my brother’s and father’s lives.

After an intimate night with him, it’s harder to believe Andre would condone cold-blooded murder, but I know it’s true.

He was born and raised in the mafia. Killing is in his blood like it’s in mine.

I take a long, hot shower, waiting for the regret that never comes, then I put my robe on and slip out into the bedroom. I figured Andre would still be sound asleep, but he’s not even in the bedroom.

My husband sits at the suite’s small two-person table, shoveling food into his mouth like it’s his first meal in months. There are several, silver-covered dishes taking up all the space on the tabletop. Oh, and he’s still completely naked.

Did he answer the door like that?

“Morning,” he says between bites when he sees me with a fork in one hand and a slice of toast in the other. “How’s the hangover?”

“I’m fine. Just a little bit of a headache.”

“Food and beverage might help with that. Are you hungry?”

“I could use some juice,” I reply, not sure if I’m ready to fill my stomach just yet.

Andre puts his fork down and slides one of the glasses of orange juice toward me. “Help yourself.”

I take a seat across from him and sip the beverage, not realizing how thirsty I am until the first swallow. Guess I got a little dehydrated from all our antics…

“So, about last night,” Andre starts before I’ve finished even half of my juice.

“It’s not happening again.”

His broad shoulders slump a little, but he doesn’t seem too bothered. “I know.”

“Okay. Good.”

“What I want to know is why it’s been twelve years since you’ve been fucked.”

Dammit. “That’s none of your business,” I snap. I shouldn’t have blurted out the truth last night. All my inhibitions were gone after back-to-back orgasms and champagne. I would’ve spilled all my secrets if Andre had asked the right questions.

“You’re not going to tell your husband why you let everyone believe you’re a viper bitch nympho when you haven’t fucked a man in twelve years?”

“No.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to assume the worst.”

“Assume all you want, jackass.” I reach over and grab a slice of toast to shove in my mouth, hoping to end this discussion. Last night was amazing, and now he’s determined to fucking ruin it.

“Here’s something you don’t know about me yet,” Andre begins to explain. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get answers out of clients, plaintiffs, defendants, whoever I’m up against. If they won’t tell me the truth, I’ll dig until I find it.”

I roll my eyes at his threat. “Let it go. I got tired of dealing with bullshit, so I stopped dating.”

“You preferred battery powered toys to men?”

“Yes.”

“Not anymore.”

His adamant assertion makes me laugh.

“You think I’m joking?”

“Just because a piece of paper says we’re married that doesn’t mean you get to control what I put inside my body.”

“If you don’t want to fuck me, fine. But you’re not fucking anyone or anything else either.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Yes, we will. If I find out you let another man lay a finger on you, I’ll kill him slowly, removing one inch of his flesh at a time, while you watch every second.”

God, I knew he was a vicious mobster, despite his legitimate profession, but it’s still surprising to hear him talking about murder so casually.

I imagine him slicing my brother’s neck or father’s wrists when he says, “The men moving your things to my apartment already confirmed your box of toys fell off the truck and into a dumpster.”

I stare at the naked man eating his breakfast before me, hating that it’s impossible to look at his mouth without thinking about coming on his tongue. Last night, I should’ve known he was too damn good to be true. Now he’s showing his true colors, and I want to gouge his pretty amber eyes out. “You seriously threw out my box of vibrators?”

“Yes.”

“You do know I have plenty of fingers, right? What are you going to do to stop me from using those?”

His dark eyes lower to my fingers wrapped around the glass of orange juice. “You can fuck your fingers all you want, baby. Just like I’ll be fucking my hand until you change your mind. I’ve never had to go long periods of time without having a woman underneath me, so I might have to invest in one of those flashlight-looking fuck toys. What are they called, fleshlights?”

“Something like that,” I grit out, hating that he’s proving his point because I’m a tiny bit jealous of the inanimate object he’s planning to come inside.

“You want to help me pick one out?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s for your dick! Why do you need my help choosing one?” I snap.

“Would you prefer if I endured with just my hand and a bottle of lotion?”

“If I can’t have any toys, then why should you?”

“Deal,” Andre agrees. “We’ll only fuck our own hands if we’re not fucking each other.”

“Fine.” It’s not like he’ll know if I buy replacements online.

“All your purchases have to be approved by me,” he says as if reading my mind.

“What?”

“You don’t have a bank account of your own, do you? You just use Daddy’s credit card when you go shopping?”

“So?”

“So, your brother was quick to agree I’m financially responsible for you now.”

“I’m not a child you can put on an allowance!” I grit out. Damn him. If only we’d had this argument last night before he touched me, I never would’ve let him inside me.

“Then you should find a job to earn your own money. Because if you’re using mine, I get final approval of all purchases.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“That’s real life, baby. If there’s something you want that I refuse, well, you’ll just have to figure out a way to change my mind.”

“I’m not screwing you so I can go shopping!”

“I didn’t say you had to screw me. And based on the messages I got from my guys, you have plenty of clothes already.”

“I will never fuck you again,” I warn him, fuming over these idiotic, controlling rules.

“That’s the other thing you should know about me.” Andre smirks. “As an attorney, I’m damn good at finding loopholes. Even when arrogant businessmen are so confident a deal is airtight, I can almost always find a way to slip inside. I love a challenge, and I’m not afraid of putting in the work to get what I want.”

“There’s nothing you can do to change my mind,” I assure him.

“I guess we’ll see about that.”

“If you even try to touch me against my will, I’ll kill you.”

“Baby, I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he chuckles. “You don’t have to worry about me touching you again until you’re begging me for it, just like you begged last night.”

Cocky asshole.

Now, I wish I had been drunk enough to forget last night.