Page 67 of The Mafia's Septuplets
The added stimulation sends her spiraling over the edge with a cry that she muffles against my shoulder. Her body convulses around me, her inner muscles milking my cock as pleasure overwhelms us with simultaneous, devastating intensity as her climax triggers my own release. I thrust as deeply as possibleone final time as my orgasm tears through me, filling her while trembling from the force of my orgasm.
In the aftermath, we hold each other close, both breathing hard and overcome by the intensity of what we’ve shared. The physical connection has restored something that words and explanations couldn’t repair, though the underlying issues about attention and prioritization remain unresolved.
“I haven’t been showing it properly, but you mean everything to me,” I whisper against her hair, the words emerging with vulnerability that would have terrified me months ago. “I haven’t been giving you what you need, but I’m trying to build something that will protect all of us.”
“I know you are.” She settles against my chest, her breathing already deepening toward sleep. “In spite of that and how important it is, we still need to find ways to nurture what we have while you’re building for the future, or there might not be anything left to protect.”
Her observation carries wisdom that cuts through my defensive rationalizations about necessity and external pressures while also introducing new anxiety about if she’s planning to leave me. Not if I keep her as my top priority, I assure myself. The work will bring new crises and new demands on my time but tonight has reminded me what I’m really fighting to protect and preserve.
After she falls asleep in my arms, I lie awake thinking about Timur’s warning regarding potential security breaches and the possibility that someone close to us has been feeding information to Mikhail. The paranoia required to investigate everyone with access to sensitive information feels corrosive,but the alternative is accepting vulnerability that could destroy everything we’re trying to build.
My phone buzzes with a text message from Timur that makes me freeze with dread:Trust no one, especially those who seem most loyal.
The cryptic warning suggests Timur has identified specific suspects, or at least has some in mind, but isn’t comfortable sharing details through electronic communication. The implication that betrayal comes from unexpected sources makes me question everyone who’s had access to our home, our schedules, and our private conversations.
I want to wake Willa and share these concerns, to include her in the strategic thinking required to identify and neutralize threats against our security. Instead, I watch her sleep peacefully and make mental calculations about how to protect her without creating additional stress during an already difficult pregnancy.
The decision to shield her from immediate threats while handling investigation quietly reflects exactly the protective instincts that created distance between us in the first place. I’m treating her like a possession to be guarded rather than a partner who deserves complete honesty about dangers we’re facing. The epiphany doesn’t tell me how to stop protecting her though.
The investigation will require paranoid attention to detail and suspicious evaluation of people I’ve trusted with my most private concerns. The irony that protecting Willa’s safety might require returning to the secretive, controlling behavior that threatens our relationship isn’t lost on me. Love and security seem to demand conflicting approaches that I haven’t learned to balance effectively.