Page 179 of Madness & Mercy

“I’m yours!” I cry out, raw and desperate, voice cracking as pleasure explodes through me. I come hard while he’s still pounding me through it, using me like I was made for him.

“That’s it, piccolino,” he groans, his breath hot at my ear.“Take it like a good boy.”

I’m trembling, wrecked, overstimulated and still greedy for more. He fists my hair tighter, teeth sinking into my shoulder as he slams home one final time, grinding deep as his cock jerks and floods me, hot and endless. His groan rips through me as he bottoms out inside me until it’s dripping down my thighs.

For a moment, I can’t move. My knees threaten to give, but he pins me against the bark, panting hard, still buried inside me like he can’t stand the thought of pulling out. Rose petals scatter at our feet, candles flicker in daylight, and if anyone stumbled into this garden right now, they would see clear as fucking day that I, Julian Cross,belong to Nico Vitale.

CHAPTER 30 – THE AFTERMATH

NICO

NINE MONTHS LATER…

There’s something about the water that shuts out all the noise. Out here, miles from the shore, the ocean is endless, the waves crashing like they belong to us. There are no rivals. No threats. No fucking distractions. Just Julian and me.

He practically begged me to let him use his new yacht for the honeymoon, and fine…I caved. Truth is, I don’t mind. The sea is calm and steady, something I can’t usually say about my life. Hell, even the wedding planning was pure chaos, balancing it between putting bullets in our enemies’ skulls and making sure the florist got the right flowers. But somehow, we pulled it off.

When it comes to the business, I put Julian at my side. He runs the empire’s veins; money, deals, the parts that look legitimate. I handle the blood. And I’ll make damn sure he never has to stain his hands again. That’s my job.Not his.

Julian wanted something simple for our wedding. Of course, my version of “simple” still meant dropping a fortune on the venue. He pretended to hate it, but I know better. He loves when I spoil him.

The guest list was small—Cassian, his parents, my people. But honestly, it wasn’t the crowd I was worried about. It wasus.Given our history, I half-expected Julian to put a bullet in me at the altar, or for me to have to drag him out before he could change his mind. A mafia boss and the hitman hired to kill him…it’s not exactly a love story for the ages.

But somehow, it didn’t end in blood. Somehow, it ended in vows.

Now he’s not just my hitman. Not just the man who drives me insane. He’s myhusband.My obsession made permanent. Myforever.

I can’t stop staring at the ring on my finger, a platinum band traced with diamonds. He surprised me with it two months after my proposal, and lately, it’s thesecond-most impossible thing to look away from.

Watching him now, he’s bronzed under the sun, sunglasses tilted low, sprawled out in a chair with a Marrow Martini in hand. His abs catch the light, his lips part around the straw, and I swear I feel my cock twitch at the sight.

I slide open the glass door, stepping into the sunlight, and he tips his head just enough to glance over the rim of his sunglasses. A slow, cocky smile spreads across his face, like he knowsexactlyhow good he looks right now. My lips twitch into a smirk as I drop into the chair beside him.

“Comfortable?” I ask.

“Very,” he murmurs, stretching out as sweat beads along the dip of his stomach. The sight makes my throat go dry.

I lean back, watching him. We’ve been married seven months, and he still hasn’t figured out how dangerous it is to tease me like this. Or maybe he has, and he just likes it.

My hand finds his thigh, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shorts. His smirk falters for half a second before coming back sharper, daring me.Alwaysdaring me.

“Careful, Vitale,” he drawls, sipping his drink. “You’re gonna make me spill this.”

“That’s fine,” I murmur, sliding higher, my voice low and rough. “I’ll lick it off you.”

His breath stutters. He tries to mask it behind another sip, but I catch the way his hips shift closer, the way his pulse jumps under his skin. He doesn’t even realize how easy he is to read when it comes to me.

God, he’smine.And out here, with no one else around, I can take my time proving it.

His throat bobs as he takes another long sip, like he’s trying to buy himself time. I don’t give it to him. I lean in, catch the glass in his hand, and tilt it just enough that the liquid spills over his chest, sliding down his skin in a thin, shining trail.

“Goddamnit, Nico—” he hisses, jerking upright.

“Relax,” I murmur, following the droplets with my tongue, lapping them up as he grips the arms of the chair like he’s holding himself together. He tastes like sun and salt and the faint bite of alcohol. I bite at his nipple hard enough to make him gasp.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, but his legs are already spreading, his hips bucking up against mine.

“Yeah?” I growl, yanking his shorts down and palming him hard.“Then stop moaning like you love it.”