Page 82 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss

I lower myself and kiss her stomach, igniting another jab against my palm. I don’t know why, but my heart, soul, and lust all soften, and I begin a different pace.

I’m still dying for her.

I’m still needing her like I need air.

But she’s my everything.

“Carmine,” she whispers, feeling the change.

I need to show her how much I love her. I wrap my arms around her, bringing my forehead to hers. Our breaths mix, and it hits me that my entire life is in my arms.

“I love you, Sweetling.”

“I love you too, Carmine. So much.”

Delilah’s whimpers become more frequent, and her pussy becomes wetter, so slick and warm. I don’t stop the constant, slow movements of my hips. I take my time, dragging my cock in languid, tormenting strokes.

She’s close.

We always fuck hard, and I rarely take my time because I want her so much.

This will be the first of many times tonight.

“Carmine.” She whines my name as her muscles spasm around me.

“That’s it, wife. Come all over me. Show me how much you love me.”

And she does. She shatters, pulling my orgasm from me.

I don’t stop. I fuck her through it; my come adding an extra layer of lubricant. I become so sensitive it’s hard to catch my breath, but it passes eventually, and I keep going wanting nothing more than to bring her pleasure.

She shatters me.

And I’m a better man for it.

She’s shown me even the ugliest of hearts can soften to deserve such beautiful things.

After countless orgasms I’ve wrung from her, she falls asleep before I even have a chance to slide out from her. My entire body trembles when I do, and I watch my cock ease from her heat.

Such a beautiful sight.

I cover her up, kiss her cheek, and roll out of bed, needing some water. I’m a bit restless. My head is too busy with everything going on. Tucking her in, I throw on a pair of sweatpants and quietly sneak out of the room.

A frenzied Gianni running smack into me.

“Carmine, I have a call you will want to take,” Gianni informs me.

“Shh.” I look over my shoulder to check on Delilah. She’s still sleeping. I shut the door. Who could be calling me at this hour? My brows furrow. “From whom?”

“Romano,” he says, darkly. “It’s a video call.”

“I don’t want Delilah to hear.”

“He is on the screen in the security room.”

“Do not under any circumstance allow Delilah to enter that room. If she wakes up, she’ll come searching for me and probably curse Romano out herself. I want this call traced; do you understand?”

“I’m already working on it.”