Page 46 of Madness & Mercy (Deadly Sins #1)

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 was us. 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 my husband. My obsession made permanent. My forever.

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 the second-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 knows exactly how 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. Always daring 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’s mine. 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.”

The glass slips from his hand, clattering to the deck, and before he can complain, I’ve got him bent over the arm of the lounge chair, ass up, cock pressed against the railing for balance. He grips the wood hard, the ocean stretching endless in front of him.

“Someone could see—” he rasps.

“No one’s here.” I push against him, grinding slowly. “And even if they were, I’d still fuck you just like this.”

He lets out a broken sound, his head dropping forward, his body arching back into me. The sunlight gilds off every inch of him, sweat shining down his spine, muscles trembling under my hands.

“Fuck, Julian,” I mutter against his ear, biting the shell of it as I shove his legs wider. “Look at you…spread out on your new yacht, dripping down your chair, begging me to ruin you.”

“I’m not begging—” he tries, but the words cut off in a choked moan as I drive into him, each thrust rocking the chair back on its legs.

His body jerks against the railing, cock pressed against the wood, dripping, smearing precum across the polished surface.

He’s a fucking mess—sweat, spit, liquor still sticky on his chest—and it’s driving me insane.

“God, Nico—harder—” he chokes, his knuckles whitening around the rail.

I fist his hair, yanking his head back so he has no choice but to arch. His mouth falls open, desperate, begging without words. I slam into him so deep he nearly sobs.

“That’s it, piccolino,” I growl against his throat, biting hard enough to leave a mark. “Take it. Take every fucking inch.”

He’s trembling, his cock sliding against the railing with every brutal thrust. The sound of those wrecked, broken moans is enough to make me lose my mind. I wrap a hand around his throat with just enough pressure to remind him exactly who he belongs to.

“You feel that?” I rasp, slamming into him again. “This cock. This ring on your finger. You’re mine.”

“Yes—yes, fuck—I’m yours—” he gasps, his voice cracking, his thighs shaking.

I squeeze harder, dragging my other hand down his stomach until I grip his cock, stroking him rough, matching the rhythm of my hips. His knees nearly buckle.

“Come for me, Julian,” I snarl into his ear. “Come on this fucking yacht with my cock buried deep inside you, so every time you step out here, you remember exactly who owns you.”

He shatters with a strangled cry, hot and messy over the railing, his body clenching so tight around me I can barely keep control. I slam once, twice more before spilling deep inside him with a guttural curse, grinding against him until we’re both shaking.

He slumps forward, gasping against the railing, sweat dripping down his back. I press against him, breathing hard, my hand over his ring where it glints in the sunlight.

“Careful,” I murmur, sliding my palm down the railing. “You’re gonna leave stains all over your new yacht.”

He groans, shoving at me weakly. “God, you’re disgusting.”

I lick my hand just to watch him glare. “Mmm. Tastes like mine.”

His face burns. “You’re such a fucking bastard.”

“Correction,” I say smoothly, grabbing his chin so he has to meet my gaze. “I’m your bastard.” I kiss him hard, slow, until he melts despite himself.

When I pull back, his eyes are hazy, lips swollen. He tries to scowl, but it’s weak at best. “You better clean that railing, Vitale. I’m not walking out here tomorrow and seeing—”

I interrupt with a sharp laugh. “Oh, no, cucciolo. That stays. Every time you see it, you’re gonna remember how hard I fucked you right here, with the sun shining and the waves crashing. Consider it my signature.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you married me.” I grin, brushing my thumb over the ring glinting on his finger. “Face it, you like being ruined.”

His mouth opens like he’s about to argue, but instead he bites his lip and looks away, too flushed to hide it.

“You’re perfect,” I murmur, nipping at his ear. “My filthy, beautiful husband.”

“I hate you,” he murmurs.

“Liar.” I grab his wrist, spinning him into my chest before he can escape. “Say it again.”

He narrows his eyes, but his voice comes out lower, almost breathless. “…I hate you.”

I drag my teeth down his jaw, gripping his ass hard enough to make him gasp. “That’s funny,” I murmur, “’cause you sound like a man who’s begging me to drag him back to the cabin and fuck him through the mattress.”

His breath stutters. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest. He tries to play it cool, rolling his eyes, but the red creeping up his neck gives him away. “You’ve got an ego the size of this yacht.”

“No,” I smirk, hoisting him up suddenly so his legs wrap around my waist, “I’ve got a husband who keeps tempting me, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

He gasps, arms instinctively tightening around my shoulders. “Put me down, you bastard—”

“Not a chance.” I carry him through the glass doors, ignoring his squirming. “You started this on the deck, piccolino. Now I’m finishing it in our bed. And trust me…” My voice dips, dark and hungry. “You’re not leaving this cabin until you can’t walk straight.”

His lips twitch like he wants to argue, but the heat in his eyes betrays him. “…You’re insane.”

“Insanely in love with you,” I shoot back, kicking the door shut behind us.

I toss him onto the bed and he bounces once, glaring at me through mussed hair.

I just smirk, opening the closet like I’ve been waiting for this moment.

My hand brushes past his neatly folded shirts, the row of sweats I bought him, and then lands on the hanger.

Black lace, ridiculous frills, the short hemline that barely covers his thighs. I hold it up with a predator’s grin.

“Remember this?”

Julian freezes, then groans, dragging a pillow over his face. “Fuck off. I’m not wearing that again.”