Page 40 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream (Dark Hearts #3)

A ndreas

I stand at the end of the bed looking down at my wife.

She’s still sleeping, her rich auburn hair splayed across the pillow, her cheeks remaining a healthy and vibrant post-orgasmic pink.

I didn’t think it possible, but she’s even more beautiful now that I’ve tasted her and watched her sleep, than when I first laid eyes on her and couldn’t find my breath for days.

I walk quietly out of the room and pull up Arrow’s number. He called while I was finger-fucking my wife in the car and I wasn’t putting that on hold for anybody.

“What’s up?” I say when he answers.

“You need to get your pretty little ass to Washington. There’s a paper with a dotted line just waiting to be signed, with your name and Corioni Technology L.L.C. written across it.”

“You’re joking. Who?”

“Well, this is the kicker… your former lady friend, Astrid.”

I contain a growl. “If you value your life, don’t ever call her my former lady friend again. She was a mistake, pure and simple.”

“Fine, whatever. Your mistake then.”

“Why her?”

“You’ll never believe this, A. She’s standing in until another governor can be elected. Rumor has it she might even run.”

I scrub my hand down my face. “Fuck.” That’s all we need.

“She doesn’t have to win if we don’t want her to. You know that. There’s a ton of stuff we can do. Think of all the dirt we have on her.”

“You’re right. But all in due course. I need that signature.”

“Well, you’ve practically got it. You just have to fly down there in person. A mini honeymoon perhaps.”

He’s joking but it’s actually not a bad idea.

“I have more good news if you can handle it?”

“Go on.”

“We got the last two guys.”

“What?” My chest thumps triumphantly. “Ajello’s men?”

“The very same. Dead now. Dumped a few miles out in the Bay.”

I walk to the chair at the end of the landing. I have to sit down. This is huge. I’ve finally finished off my father’s right-hand man. He has no one. No business, no connections, no territory. He’s over.

“Where’s Ajello?”

“In hiding, but we know exactly where. Do you want to do the honor?”

Do I want to put a bullet through that man’s skull? Sure I do. But do I want to waste more time on that soul-sucking cretin when I could be here a few more hours eating out my wife?

“No. But make sure he hears my name before his lights go out.”

“It’s done. Anything else you need from me?”

“No. I’m laying low a couple of days.” I can pretty much hear Arrow frown in surprise. “Few things here I need to take care of.”

“Okay boss. I’ll text you when it’s done.”

I hang up and let the relief flood through me.

It’s over.

Aldo Ajello is getting a bullet between the eyes, his entire gangland and livelihood destroyed. He’s finally gotten what he deserves and he’s going to know whose hands dealt the final blow. That’s karma, bitch.

With lighter shoulders, I stand and walk back to my wife’s bedroom— our bedroom— and slide in beside her wearing only my boxers. After being deprived of touching this woman and her perfect flesh for months, I want skin on skin.

I rest my head on a propped elbow and watch her breathe. It soothes my bones and lifts even more weight from my being. I could lie like this and watch her sleep for an eternity, but just as I form those words in my mind, she wakes up.

She blinks groggily then slowly turns her head. A pretty flush crawls up her cheeks, illuminating her small freckles and sleepy blue eyes.

I stroke a curl of hair from her face. “Sleep okay?”

“Umm, yeah,” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes. “Good, actually.”

“Thank you for last night.”

Her eyes narrow as she recalls what I did to her, then a fresh surge of blood floods her cheeks. “I didn’t do anything. I should be thanking you.”

I let out a quiet smirk. “You did enough.”

Her smooth brow dips to a frown and she sits up, pushing herself back against the pillows. “I thought you would have… you know…” She drops her gaze to her fingernails.

I hesitate for a few seconds, then it dawns on me what she’s trying to say. “Fucked you?”

Her mouth drops open. “Do you have to say it like that? I meant that I thought you were going to take my virginity!”

I shake my head, my lips closed tight.

Her brow furrows again. “Why not?”

“You’re not ready,” I reply in a gruff voice.

A glimmer of annoyance flashes across her features. “When will I be ready?”

“Sera…” I press a hand to my chest then move it to hers. “You don’t love yourself enough.”

Her lips part and her eyes fill with tears. It’s a shitty thing to realize but if we don’t allow ourselves to admit the truth, we can’t grow or change.

“Only when you fully love yourself can you allow me to love you with everything that I am.”

Her frown deepens as she tries to figure out what I mean.

I pull down the bedsheets and spread her legs with my hands. She gasps at the sudden move. I lightly trace the pattern of her scars with a finger, then look up sharply.

“How many of these do you have?”

She snaps her legs closed in embarrassment, but if I’m going to help her heal, we need to have this conversation.

“I don’t know how many. I didn’t keep count.”

I hold up one finger. I’m asking her to count with me. I touch that finger to the lowest, faintest scar.

“One,” she whispers.

I lightly stroke my fingertip to the scar beside it, then look up expectantly.

“Two.”

I nod to let her know she’s doing good, then smooth my fingertip to the next, and the next.

By the time we get to fifty-five, my wife is fucking wet .

One more, baby.

I lightly tap the last, most recent scar.

“Fifty-six,” she rasps.

I lean down and lick her pussy from the opening to her clit and fucking melt into the long, breathless whimper that is teased from her throat. Then I move over her and bring my lips down to hers. I don’t kiss them—I just brush my lips over her mouth and close my eyes so I can feel every response.

In this moment, with my dick ferociously hard and my head spiraling in an alarmingly good way, the words flow out of my mouth with ease. They brush across her trembling lips.

“You will come once for every wound you’ve endured. Only then will you get my cock.”

Her breath shivers from her open mouth to mine and I hover there, soaking her in. The tension between us is so charged I don’t want to move.

“Why would you torture me like that?” she whispers.

“It’s not torture. You’ll thank me.”

“Why?”

“I need you soft and loose.”

She’s about to roll her eyes when I grab a handful of her hair and fist it.

“Because I’m so fucking big, I’ll tear your insides.”

Her eyes stretch wide and I dig my tongue into her mouth, swallowing her surprise.

God, she tastes even better now she’s inhaled my truth.

And just to drive that message home, so she knows I’m not bluffing, I press my rock solid cock into her stomach so she can feel it from her pubic bone to her midriff. She sucks in a gasp.

There you go, baby. No more lies.

Her breaths puff into my skin, each one getting hotter and less restrained. Then I straighten my elbows, the muscles in my upper arms primed and taut, and move back down to her pussy. I can’t wait to drown in it.

Fifty-six times I need to make her come. Tongue, fingers, whatever inspires me in the moment. Fifty-six orgasms in exchange for my cock.

One for each of the scars she’s given herself. By the time I’ve finished, she’s going to love every single one of them.

“Pick one,” I command.

“Pick one what?” she says, breathlessly.

I underestimated her state of composure. “A scar, baby.”

“Um…” She lifts her head and frowns at the patchwork of angry red lines, then points to the lowest one on her left leg. I tap the raised skin lightly, then I get to work.

When I dip my tongue into her heat she bucks her hips for more.

Oh no, no, no . We do this on my schedule.

I lay my other arm over her stomach, pinning her to the bed, then I return my tongue to her.

She’s soft and velvety, and smells so sweet it might just drive me insane.

I take my time licking through her folds and sucking on her pretty little clit, enjoying the sound of helpless whimpers and sobs as I coax her to the very edge.

Each time she stiffens beneath me, I pull back and blow a hot breath across her, or nip at her skin with my teeth. Then I wait until she’s panting, and work her up all over again.

“Andreas, please …” she moans.

I lift my head and watch her glazed eyes trying to focus. Then I move my attention to the scar on her leg. I kiss it gently while teasing my fingers through her heat to keep her on that edge.

“You are perfect,” I murmur, between kisses. “Every inch of you.”

I gently suck at the traumatized skin.

“You are loveable exactly as you are.”

I play gently with her pussy while French-kissing her upper leg.

“Isn’t that right?” I peer up at her through my lashes.

Her voice drops to a small whisper. “Yes.”

I stare at her in wonder. I hope she remembers this moment because I’m about to make her black out.

“Good.”

I shift my weight and settle again between her legs so I can eat her pussy like a mindless beast. I loved lavishing her thigh with attention but I need to make her come now so I can disappear into the bathroom and finish myself off.

My cock is so damn hard with all this talk of pleasuring my wife that it’s throbbing against my leg, but I won’t take my fill of her while she’s so raw.

I’m not coming up for air until she’s clamping her thighs around my head and shaking like she’s been electrocuted.

Then I inhale a long breath, hold it deep in my lungs and dive in.