Page 92 of The Bonventi War

Then I hold her there, locked in place, making sure she takes every last drop.

And when I pull out, I see my cum dripping out of her, spilling down her thighs.

That won't fucking do.

I drag my fingers through the mess, then shove it back inside her, pushing deep.

"Not wasting a drop," I say, watching her shudder. "I want you full of me."

I press a possessive kiss to her shoulder.

"You're going to have my baby Raven Carvello."

Her breath hitches, and fuck, I love it.

I love her.

And she'll be mine forever.

38

RAVEN

The sun hits my face, pulling me from sleep. I groan and roll over, every muscle in my body deliciously sore—a common theme now that I'm with Gio every day.

And thinking of him, images from last night flood back—his hands everywhere, his mouth everywhere, the way he took me over and over.

God, that kitchen counter.

My thighs clench at the memory—his hand gripping my hair, the primal way he growled about getting me pregnant, his cock driving into me without restraint. My body flushes hot, remembering how I came screaming his name, my fingernails scratching uselessly against the smooth countertop.

Then there was the second time—the way he pinned me to the bed, my wrists trapped in one of his large hands above my head. The weight of him holding me down, those green eyes locked on mine as he slammed into me. Both brutal and tender all at once.

So yeah, my soreness? Worth it.

I turn to find Gio, but his spot is empty, the sheets cool. He must have been up for a while. I stretch as I sit up and look around his bedroom.

Everything about this place screams wealth and power. I'm still not used to it. Even as I sit in this massive four-poster bed in his bedroom, with an en suite private bathroom bigger than my entire apartment, I still can't get used to it.

Shit, my apartment.

That's gone now, along with the gallery beneath it.

My throat tightens unexpectedly. This is like the fifth time it's happened, where I suddenly remember my losses.

My mom's gallery. Everything I worked to restore, gone in a blaze of smoke and Russian revenge.

I mean, when I stop to think about it, it's all too crazy—which is probably why I don't.

A few months ago, I was restoring paintings in Florence, living a quiet, simple life. Now, I'm in the mansion of a mobster who's… well, protected me, kept me safe, and dealt with anyone who tried to hurt me.

And the craziest part? I don't regret a moment of it.

Gio turned everything upside down. The controlled, careful life I built—he tore through it like a hurricane. Left me raw and exposed. Made me feel things I never thought possible.

My fingers absently trace over the raven tattoo on my wrist. What would mom think of all this? Of me falling for a dangerous man who kills for me without hesitation?

She'd think I'm crazy for sure, but I love him, so if that's crazy, lock me up.