Page 36 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

“Behave,” Kathy said with gentle authority. “Let’s find a safe way.”

Intrigued, he went still.

Kathy’s hand traveled slowly down his chest, her fingers scraped across, and then combed through his pubic hair.

Each digit reached for his upturned dick.

Uncertain but instinctively knowing what might soothe him, she began with gentle, slow strokes.

He visibly relaxed, clearly enjoying her tender touch.

It wasn’t easy. Without lubricant, she feared that her handling of his penis felt rough and abrasive.

Curious and emboldened, she moved the covers aside to see her actions fully.

Quietly repositioning herself, she leaned down, gently taking him into her mouth.

Carmelo’s eyes snapped open in surprise, a soft gasp escaping his lips.

As she deepened her swallowing, Carmelo sat upright abruptly, but Kathy pressed her palm firmly against his bruised abdomen, guiding him back down.

He collapsed back with a deep, guttural moan.

Quickly learning his responses, she continued suctioning her jaws, swallowing him halfway, and bobbing her head up and down to keep up the motion.

She did so with growing confidence, feeling his fingers gently gripping her hair, guiding and pacing her movements.

“Stop! Stop,” he suddenly pleaded, overwhelmed by sensation and pain.

Seeing the intense torture etched across his features, Kathy slowly released him and repositioned herself atop him.

She guided him gently inside, easing down carefully.

Carmelo shuddered beneath her as she began to move rhythmically, drawing on the lessons he’d lovingly taught her.

Her body gripped him tightly, her eyelids fluttering closed as she reached back to steady herself against his knees, matching his movements with a slow, powerful rhythm.

The inner muscles of her vagina tightened and quivered around his shaft, drawing an involuntary jerk from Carmelo as he fought the impulse to seize control again.

Kathy sensed his struggle and gently leaned forward, pinning his wrists against the pillows to prevent him from overexerting himself.

She showered his bruised chest with soft, soothing kisses, maintaining a slow, rhythmic pace as she moved atop him.

Carmelo’s whimpers soon deepened into full-bodied groans, his expression a mix of pleasure and agony. Kathy leaned in to capture his lips in a gentle kiss, whispering against his mouth, “Let go, for me…”

At her words, he surrendered completely.

Their climax overtook them simultaneously, and Kathy mustered all her strength to hold him firmly, increasing her rhythm to intensify his pleasure.

Even after the peak passed, their kisses lingered, affectionate and playful.

Carmelo’s soft laughter filled the space between them as Kathy’s exhausted body finally gave way, allowing him to roll them over gently.

Though he slipped from her, he continued lavishing her neck with tender kisses and murmuring affectionate words she couldn’t fully decipher.

Love enveloped them both, deep and comforting, until at last they collapsed into each other's arms, wrapped securely in their shared warmth.

Rising Sun…

"What time does the train leave?" he murmured against her hair, his voice thick with approaching dawn and dread.

Awake now beside him, she stared at the window where the first gray light of morning crept through the lace curtains like an unwelcome visitor. "Ten o'clock," she whispered, the words tasting like ashes.

"They haven't decided on my next fight yet. Could be anywhere—Chicago, Philadelphia, even back to New York," he said, his voice heavy with resignation.

"Maybe it will be in the South," she offered, threading hope through her words like a lifeline. "If it is, I'll be there, Melo. Right at your side, no matter what."

"It's not fair." His arm tightened around her as if he could hold back time itself. "The things I've been forced to do, just to love you. None of it's fair."

"You keep saying that, but I remember when you genuinely loved boxing," she said gently, studying the tension in his jaw. "You used to talk about it like it was poetry."

His dark eyes—windows to his soul—met hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. Once again, she sensed he was carrying secrets too heavy for one man to bear alone. The weight of unspoken truths lived in his tortured gaze like shadows in deep water.

She touched his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath her palm. "What is it, Melo ? What's truly being forced on you that you can't tell me?"

He was quiet for so long she thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, as if saying the words aloud might make them more real.

"The mob, their traditions, the whole damn system—it's changing me, Kathy.

Turning me into something I swore I'd never become.

Moving me further away from the man you fell in love with.

" His eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I'm afraid of what I'm becoming.

Afraid that one day you'll look at me and see him instead of me. "

She understood without him having to name the specter that haunted them both—his father's shadow, the legacy of violence and corruption that seemed to claim every Ricci man in the end.

"Me too," she whispered, the admission torn from somewhere deep in her chest. "I'm afraid, too."

But even as she spoke the words, she pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his forehead in a promise she would love him through whatever darkness was coming because some loves were worth the fear, worth the risk, worth everything—even when you could see the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.