Page 39 of Merciless Queen (Moretti Mafia #1)

Caterina

“Fucking idiot,” I cursed myself as I stomped to my office. That was a mistake. A colossal mistake. But goddamn, did she look beautiful.

I never watched someone like that, but I needed to ask her something about our wedding, and now I didn’t know what the hell I was going to say as I watched, entranced with the way her fingers moved.

She was taking her control back, and it was sexy as hell.

He fucking ruined it because that’s what men did.

Only I was surprised when she didn’t shrink into herself and hide under her blanket.

She touched herself while watching me. I was already frustrated, and now that image was burned into my memory.

Harlow was a goddess and deserved to be worshiped as such, but I was a devil—a toxic soul that would taint her purity. Goddesses and devils clashed; they didn’t lust after one another. Devils didn’t fall in love with goddesses. No matter how beautiful they were.

I shook the thought of her from my mind.

Even if our situation was different, love was not in the books for me, and Harlow had a whole world to rediscover.

She thought she wanted to die, when in reality she just wanted everything to be silent around her.

Now that she’d recovered from her suicide attempt, she had more bounce to her, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Elizabeth’s mental health also improved, too.

She was trying her best to keep Harlow happy.

Luca informed me that he was concerned about her after seeing Harlow in that state.

She cried in his arms for hours. I needed to get Harlow into training sessions with me and Spencer.

I needed to get her mind to focus on something else.

It was my fault it happened.

I didn’t fully understand the results of sexual assault or rape since the only person who ever touched me, I shot them in the head.

I was little, so it was in the back of my mind now.

When I was younger, it affected me more than I cared to admit, but growing up and dealing with everything now made it a fragment in the recesses of my mind.

But what they both experienced was fresher, and they knew every detail.

They had to live through it. Simmering with your demons in a personal hell was not the way to heal.

Harlow would spend her time reading either in the bedroom or in the cabin.

For the last couple of days, she was at the cabin snuggling with my dogs.

After our wedding, I was going to see if it was only Harlow they liked or if it was women in general.

If they could be in my house, I’d let them stay in my bedroom with us, if she agreed to stay in my bed.

Here, no one would dare walk in without being asked.

I needed to focus my mind on something, so I went to take a cold shower, paralyzing any lustful thoughts in my mind about Harlow and how gorgeous she looked playing with herself.

It took every ounce of willpower I had to not slip my hand between my thighs and fuck myself to the implanted image of Harlow.

This may have been harder than I imagined.

I slipped into a t-shirt and lace boy shorts.

Sometimes, I felt like I needed to wear more when sleeping, but if someone broke into my home and I had to make the final kill—my men would also die.

I could handle my own, but I would like to sleep knowing my men would be able to handle their own without needing my assistance.

I towel-dried my hair as I walked back into my bedroom, hearing a soft knock on my bedroom door.

Harlow stepped in with a shy smile and a rosy blush on her face—post-orgasm flush, I assumed.

She did look a lot better than she did a few days ago, and there was life coming back to her compared to the first day I took her.

“There’s no pretending you didn’t see me,” she quipped, almost in a whisper, like she was embarrassed.

“I didn’t expect to invade a private moment, so I apologize.”

She looked at me, her big doe eyes filled with something questioning, and maybe…lustful? Or maybe I was just riled up. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded. “We’re getting married tomorrow, and I know you said you couldn’t love me, but—” She stopped. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

I arched my brow. “Tell me.”

“I-Isn’t sex supposed to feel good? Not like the sex with the men who hurt me.”

When she said that, it made me angry. Not at her.

Never at her, but for thinking sex was supposed to be like that.

“That wasn’t sex,” I said with a little fire in my voice, but I tried to keep it together so I didn’t scare her.

“Those men raped you. I don’t want you thinking sex is like that.

Sex is supposed to be enjoyable. And yes, it can be rough, but that’s discussed between partners.

It is supposed to be pleasurable for both parties. ”

“Can you make me feel good? I couldn’t make myself…but then you watched me and I… I got closer. I think I’m broken.”

“You aren’t broken, Harlow. You’re traumatized.”

She took a shaky breath. “Can you try? I trust you. I want…I want to have pleasure that’s not forced and an orgasm that doesn’t come from pain.”

She looked ashamed at the words she just spoke. “Your body reacts naturally. Just because you had an orgasm doesn’t mean you enjoyed it. It doesn’t make it sex. If you want me to show you, I need you to tell me.”

“Please, make me feel good. I-I need you.”

I nodded, motioning for her to step into my bedroom.

Quickly, I texted Malachi and Luca to inform them to handle everything tonight unless it was a dire emergency.

I didn’t want Harlow to think I didn’t care about her pleasure.

This was an honor if I was being honest with myself, which was also terrifying.

I wanted her to feel good, but I knew it could be triggering.

“What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself, bellissima?”

Her cheeks turned three shades darker. “Y-You.”

“Jesus Christ,” I growled. “Is this what you want?”

“Y-Yes. I want to forget the men that hurt me. I want better memories.”

“You do know that I am not going to lay you down and fuck you, right? This is going to be your first time, so I want you to enjoy it.”

She winced. “But it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. Every man who hurt you does not count. Those men are sick, and I will find every last one of them and kill them for touching you. This is going to be real, and it is going to feel good. If it doesn’t, tell me to stop.

If you are uncomfortable, I’ll stop. This will be for your pleasure. ”

“W-What if I can’t?”

“Don’t feel ashamed, Harlow. It’ll take time.” She nodded.

She looked at me like she’d never seen me before. I traced the hem of her t-shirt and she tensed, her hand grabbing my wrist, blocking me from taking her shirt off. “I don’t like my body. I’m ugly.”

“Give me your arms.” She gave me her arms, and I lifted her t-shirt up her torso and over her head.

She was retreating into herself, so I made my move, leaning forward, and kissed the first scar I saw.

It was rigid and circular, like it came from a cigar—too wide to be a cigarette burn.

“Harlow, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. And these scars? These are battle wounds. These show that you are a warrior. You are strong and brave. I don’t care about them. In my eyes, you are gorgeous.”

“I—”

I kissed more of her scars before capturing her lips. When I pulled away, she was breathless. “You are a goddess, Harlow. A beautiful, strong goddess. But if you want, Spencer is also a tattoo artist. She can cover your scars.”

She nodded again, and I looped my fingers into her sweatpants, waiting a second, and she gave me a consenting nod. I dragged the material down her long legs and fell to my knees, kissing her thighs. I was not one to get on my knees for anyone, but I'd make an exception for her.

I bit back a moan of eagerness, standing up.

I grabbed the hem of my own t-shirt, ripping the fabric from my body in a swift movement and sending it across the room.

Harlow’s eyes raked down my body, taking in every part of me.

Just like her, I had scars and imperfections.

I was proud of my battle scars and impurities.

I kept in shape, so I had muscle definition, but I also had my natural curves from my mother that hypnotized men.

The mafia was dangerous, and being one of the only few females in a male dominating world meant I had to be a step ahead of them or I would fall under them.

The last thing I wanted was to be under a man.

The way Harlow was drooling over me was enough to make my ego skyrocket. “You can touch me.”

“H-How?” I smirked, taking her hand and letting her cup my full breasts. “Your skin is soft.”

She leaned forward, kneading my breasts as her lips gently kissed my collarbone.

I growled, swiftly grabbing her hips and pushing her against the wall adjacent from my bed.

I glanced at her, making sure she was okay before kissing her roughly.

I kissed her once at our engagement party, but I didn’t think about it or lose myself in the kiss.

But now, this one was real, or as real as I could make it.

She tasted sweet and minty. Her lips were soft, and she fit perfectly with my body as our lips danced together.

Harlow thrusted her hips forward, grinding into me, and it took everything within me not to fuck her against this wall and give her the first true orgasm she’d ever had by another’s hand.

I was better than that, and she deserved to be treated like royalty with back-to-back orgasms and immense pleasure instead of being a quick fuck.

I ripped my lips from hers and stepped back with a wicked grin across my lips. “Get that pretty ass to the bed, princess.”