Page 20 of Forgive Me, Father (Don #1)

SEVENTEEN

THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

The next morning, I woke to the scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries.

Alfonso stood beside the bed, carrying a tray with practiced ease. He wore an absurdly luxurious white robe, and somehow made it look even more expensive just by being on him.

Imagining absolutely nothing behind the material already set a lot of things happening between my legs into motion.

A slow ache rippled through my body as I sat up, every movement a vivid reminder of the night before. I winced, then smiled, each twinge was a quiet echo, a delicious pain that marked this new reality and it only fucked with my hormones that much more.

I shifted just enough for him to set the wooden tray across my lap, the warmth of the moment settling in deeper than the aches.

The savory scent of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon pulled me from my thoughts, warm and comforting. Then I saw them, golden blueberry muffins, fresh from the oven, their sweet aroma mingling with the rest and making my mouth water.

“Want some coffee?” Alfonso offered.

“I would love a cup, thanks.” I picked up a muffin and took a bite. It almost melted on my tongue as the sweetness pulled the sides of my jaw.

Alfonso set the cup of coffee beside me, the rich scent of Italian roast filling the air like a call to wakefulness. The creamy brew slid across my tongue, its warmth enveloping me with a softness that felt almost intimate, as if it kissed my tastebuds with every sip.

A girl could get used to this.

It was the first real breakfast I had with my husband.

“Did your parents at least come to say goodbye to you?”

They didn’t, but it wasn’t new. A quick shake of my head gave him my answer.

“I see.”

“It’s complicated.”

“All families are, especially Don families.”

I chuckled, food still in my mouth, before chewing thoroughly. He wasn’t wrong. The families, whether at the top or just starting to rise, were all tangled in their own webs of complexity.

“Why doesn’t the internet have anything on you?” I blurted out the question.

“I’m sure there are a few things on me. If you know where to look.”

“It has a lot of posts on your brothers and father, and I think they actually have the White Rabbit mixed up with either Luca or Roberto.”

He laughed at that. “It’s such a stupid name.”

“It’s not. Believe me, hearing the White Rabbit will be somewhere doesn’t cause warm and fuzzy feelings, Alfonso. Your reputation is like a dark cloud.”

“I like to get things done.”

“You are also the only one with that number underneath your eye.” I rubbed my index finger lightly across his tattoo.

“I got it when I turned twenty-one. As all the Don sons should’ve. I guess a lot of things are changing.”

“You don’t like change, do you?”

“I don’t like it when it’s changes to a system that worked perfectly for generations.”

I got what he was saying. I also realized the amount of pressure that was bestowed on him simply for being the eldest son of the highchair Don.

Twenty-one with hundred people killed. He couldn’t be more than thirty and I didn’t want to know what his number was on now.

“So, you and your mother don’t get along?” he asked.

I took a bite of the muffin, its sweetness mingling with the rich taste of my coffee, before answering. “I won’t say that. She is very pleasant when you do things her way. She is a lot like you. Love the traditions, follow them to the ‘T’.”

“You don’t,” he said flatly. It wasn’t a question, but I could hear the curiosity in his voice, the way he was beginning to peel back the layers of who I was.

“I don’t like being treated as if I don’t matter,” I answered honestly, and Alfonso stared a bit before he nodded.

“You fight for it. It’s what I like about you the most, Camilla.”

“What? Me retaliating? I doubt that, Alfonso.”

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he leaned in closer, his face just inches from mine.

“I don’t like fighting with you,” he murmured, his voice low and unguarded. “It’s exhausting.”

I pressed my lips tighter against each other. Trying not to laugh.

My plate was almost finished, and I sipped my coffee as Alfonso got up and took the tray off the bed.

A part of me wanted to know what was on today’s agenda, but another part just wanted to lie in bed all day.

I didn’t like fighting with him either. He moved toward me, his steps deliberate, then extended his hand for my cup. I passed it to him, watching as he walked over to set it down on the table beside the bed.

His long fingers, covered in Roman numerals unhooked the tie in his robe. My throat instantly dried as my pussy clenched and the wetness soaked my sex.

I couldn’t stop watching his movements and then when the knot was undone, he just let the robe fall open. Would it always be like this? Would he always affect me so much?

His thick, veiny erection was inches from my face and a part of me wanted to taste him. But I had no idea how to do this. My gaze flicked up to him and he held my stare. He really was a beautiful specimen. Dangerous but beautiful.

“What do you want to do?” Alfonso asked.

I didn’t reply, I just licked the tip of his shaft, while keeping his gaze.

A soft smile tugged his lips as I placed my mouth over his cock’s head.

He tasted salty and was the first guy I ever had in my mouth.

I had no idea whether I was doing it right, but the way Alfonso’s teeth dented into his lower lip, and his fingers raked my hair, curling around my head, I knew that I couldn’t be that bad.

He pulled his fingers against the back of my head, pulling my hair tighter. Then he started to push his cock deeper into my mouth. The tip of his dick assaulted the back of my throat. The motion made me gag.

I worked my tongue, trying to open my throat more for his length, as he slammed deeper into my mouth.

Tears blurred my sight as there was no sign of Alfonso easing up on his thrusts.

I struggled to breathe, the weight of him pressing against my throat, but even through the tension, I knew I wanted to please my husband.

Not just because it was written in our contract, not just because we had agreed to honor it going forward, but because, deep down, I wanted to.

The tears rolled down from the corner of my eyes as his dick kept hitting the back of my throat. I silently hoped for a moment of reprieve, a chance to catch my breath, but no such luck came.

Alfonso tensed with a growl before flooding my mouth with his sperm. I swallowed quickly, so I could catch a breath.

He pulled out of my mouth and fell next to me on the bed. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, I tried to recollect myself, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Tears clung to my lashes, and I blinked hard, trying to steady the pounding behind my ribcage and bring myself back to center.

The back of my throat hurt from his vigorous thrusts and not to mention the tension in my jaw. I rubbed it gently, working the tight muscles with slow, deliberate pressure.

He was fighting for breath just as I was, each inhale sharp and uneven. Then his fingers curled around the back of my neck, guiding me down until I rested against his chest.

He smelled divine. A blend of sweetness laced with musk and warm, woody undertones that wrapped around me. The robe still attached to his body. It felt soft on my skin.

My heart finally returned to its normal rhythm, and I have no idea how to feel about this. It was sexy, overwhelming, and yet traumatizing.

I kept my focus on his tattoos that covered his entire chest. The skull with the snake woven between the hollow eyes stood out among his crosses and wings, daggers and roses with thorny vines. Each one covered a scar or a bullet hole.

For some reason his cock was still erect, pointing towards the ceiling, and a slight fear crept into my core.

“Was that your first time giving someone head?” he asked softly.

I closed my eyes. “That obvious?”

“No, that good. You are a natural when it comes to my needs, I would love to know what you are going to do once we are back home.”

Why? What was back home? “Home as in Italy?”

He made a sound in the back of his throat that I took to mean yes.

I never thought about it like that. We have been here for almost a month.

He turned onto his side and faced me. The heat pulsing in my core refused to fade, a lingering ache that reminded me, I was his. His to command, his to touch, his to take.

His eyes stayed locked on mine, intense and unreadable, laced with something wild and primal. It should have scared me. Maybe it did. But more than anything, I wanted to understand it.

What did he see when he looked at me like that? And why did I want to be the only one he ever looked at that way?

His lips crushed into mine, and the kiss was passionate and rough. It burned, but in a way that felt right, deep yet satisfying. My thighs clenched and then his hand slipped underneath the covers and between my legs.

His fingers caressed the inside of my folds, and a moan slipped through the kiss.

He pushed me up and back against the bed. My legs opened as he played with my pussy. My eyes threatened to roll to the back of my head as he kept on stroking my nub. I opened wider for him and stretched myself as far as I could because if felt so fucking good.

“You like that, little runaway?”

I managed a nod, unable to speak past the tight clench of my jaw.

I tried everything to hold on to the ache.

He was playing faster now, and I grabbed the back of his head.

My lips met his once more and I thrust my tongue into his mouth.

It felt as if I had been kissing this man my entire life. It was that perfect.

The ache grew with a spread of warmth. My moans became rhythmic, and I thrusted my hips against his hand.

His fingers slipped into my opening, and he moved faster. The kiss broke as I whimpered. It was a great fucking feeling, but I needed more. I didn’t feel full with only his fingers inside me.

My fingers dug into his shoulders as I couldn’t explain this feeling. It was bigger than me, stronger than my tiny frame, and at the same time I wanted more. I needed more.

“I want to come,” I breathed hard at him.

“Then come. Come hard,” he begged.

I wanted the release, but at the same time, it didn’t happen.

“Come!” he ordered, slapping my sex harshly, and finger fucked me again.

My entire body just released as if it had waited for his command.

The sloshing sound came first, then the ripple and the warmth, mixed with the ache.

It tore a scream from my lips as Alfonso’s fingers pulled out my orgasm.

My legs clenched around his hand and arm.

A tremble rippled through my entire body, and for a few quiet moments, neither of us moved, just breathing, trying to find ourselves again in the aftermath.

Laughter spilled from me uncontrollably, the sound mingling with Alfonso’s deep, sexy chuckle that brushed against my ears. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and then his warm lips softly grazed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I love the way you come.”

More heat crept into my cheeks and ears, and I just held on to him tighter. He pulled out his fingers first. My arousal was all over his hand.

“Why are you blushing, little runaway?”

“I never knew my body could feel this way. I was told many things, and I was waiting for something completely different. Not this.”

His eyebrow furrowed. “Meaning what?”

“They said the first time hurt, well it did, but I was told it would take time to feel good, if that ever happens.”

Alfonso nodded. A nervous, shy chuckle escaped my lips before I could stop it.

“It’s okay. I think I know what you are speaking about.”

“You do?”

He nodded with a smile. I had a gorgeous husband, and it was hard to imagine that he was mine.

“Is there…” I took a deep breath, not knowing how to ask this.

“Speak, woman. Use your words.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how to ask this?”

“Ask.” Another command.

I took a deep breath. “Can someone get addicted to this?”

Italian words flowed effortlessly from Alfonso’s lips, his voice like a soft melody before he kissed me again. I couldn’t seem to get enough of him, and a quiet fear settled deep in my chest, that he might be the one to unravel me completely.