Page 56 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream (Dark Hearts #3)

S erafina

I have to wonder how this life consumed me so quickly that I actually feel comfortable entertaining not just one, but ten , certified criminals at my dinner table.

Viola’s expression is still intensely pale as she bustles around refilling wine and whiskey glasses and dishing out more helpings of pasta. She returned just as Arrow was dragging Leo Bernadi’s body out the front door, and she was followed shortly afterward by two Di Santo capos and four soldiers.

She mopped the blood off the floor while I helped Andreas change into different clothes, and watched as twelve bodies were piled up on the porch ready to be dumped into various rivers and oceans.

There’s a strange sense of camaraderie in the air that I don’t hate. Feeling my husband’s possessive gaze on the side of my face the whole time doesn’t hurt either, and I might walk past him more often than is necessary because I love the way his hand skims my thigh each time.

Once everyone has sated their appetites and a low banter accompanies black coffee and dark spirits, my husband turns to me with a devious look in his eye.

“You did well out there, with my gun.”

I dab the corners of my mouth with a napkin. “Why thank you.”

“But, you know, that’s not really how you’re supposed to hold it.”

I scowl at him. “Does it matter? It did the job.”

He breathes tightly. “Yes it did, and yes it does.”

I shrug. “Well, it’s a moot point really. I’m not intending to shoot anyone else in this lifetime.”

He takes a long sip of whiskey, presumably preferring the burn in his throat to the pain in his chest.

“Regardless, you need to learn how to fire a gun properly.”

I frown. “Why?”

“For your protection. That won’t be the first time someone tries to destroy us. I will do everything I can to keep you secure and safe, but if all those lines of defense fail, I need to know you can fire a gun properly.”

His expression changes, as though he’s willing me to see through to something very serious. I swallow and nod .

“Okay, fine. I’ll let you train me. When you are better.”

He shakes his head. “You kidding me? Like I’d be able to train you. Having seen how hot you look wielding a firearm, I wouldn’t be able to keep my damn hands off you.”

I tilt my head.

“No, no. You’ll go to proper target practice…”

I ponder the thought.

“…with your sisters.”

That makes me laugh. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“No. I’m dead serious. We’ve discussed it.”

“Who has?”

“Me, Benito and Cristiano.”

I bite my cheek. “And Tess and Tril are okay with it?”

He shifts on his seat, avoiding my gaze.

“They don’t know do they?”

“They will know by morning.”

I turn away, unable to stop the grin taking over my face. “Pray for your brothers, Andreas. My sisters don’t take kindly to being told what to do.”

Arrow and Viola help me get Andreas up to our room, before leaving to organize rooms for the men who came to help with the clean-up. I make sure he’s settled on the bed then head to the bathroom to wash my face and brush out my hair .

I hear his voice filter through the doorway.

“You’ll have to ride me tonight baby. These stitches are a bitch.”

I pop my head round the doorframe. “Your optimism is impressive.”

His voice lowers. “I need you, Sera. But I need you to go on top.”

I finish up and walk back into the bedroom. “So, what you’re saying is, I get to be in control for a change?”

“Um, no. I didn’t say that…”

“Oh, okay.” I smile while my eyes roll a little. “Tell me what to do then, sir .”

He shifts as though he’s uncomfortable, and his voice turns dry. “Keep calling me sir. That’s a good start.”

“Noted.” I pull the sweater over my head.

“Leave the dress on,” he says, his words clipped.

“This old thing?” I ask innocently. “You mean the same dress I just wore while I killed the men who tried to destroy us?”

He swallows, loudly. “ Fuck .”

I leave the dress on but slowly remove my panties, kicking them to the side.

My taut nipples stand tall beneath the green satin, craving his warm palms. I want to move faster but he’s clearly in pain.

The morphine arrived and he refused to take it.

Every now and then his lips twitch in what looks like a wince but he doesn’t let on to anyone how much the slice across his chest is bothering him .

“Why didn’t you take the morphine?” I ask.

His chest rises and falls as he watches me. “I might have more stamina than most men but even I can’t fuck on morphine.” He lifts a hand, extends a finger and curls it toward himself.

When I’m a foot away, I bend so my face is level with his.

He watches my lips as he whispers in a low, broken timbre.

“And after watching my wife emerge barefoot onto our porch, then mow down those parasites with my favorite machine gun, wearing an evening gown for Christ’s sake, I want to fuck her. Hard .”

I have to wet my lips which have suddenly been zapped of moisture. I’ve seen Andreas look ravenous, but now there’s a darkness in his eyes I haven’t seen before, like he’s seeing himself in me… like he’s awe-struck .

In the past I’d have shrunk back at a look like that.

And that’s if I’d emerged from my room and my astrology books long enough to see someone capable of giving me a look like that.

But today, after many months of being Mrs. Corioni, a woman healing from a decade of trauma, and the wife of the most intelligent, passionate and generous man I’ve ever met, I don’t shrink back—I lean in.

“Well, you can’t,” I whisper, brushing my lips over his. “So let me fuck you , hard.”

His lids fall shut like he’s about to enter heaven after being promised only hell.

I reach down to unbuckle his belt. The sight of his cock straining to be freed makes my stomach turn to liquid. I pull down the zipper, then tug his pants and boxers down over his hips. His cock leaps as a tight groan leaves his throat.

Saliva floods my mouth at the sight and without thinking, I straddle his legs and take him into my mouth. He gasps in surprise, then a soft hum tells me his eyes are now open and he’s watching me suck his cock.

I love how he tastes—how the heat rises off his length.

I love how the girth grows thicker as I wrap my lips around it.

And I love the groans he emits when my lips make little sucking sounds over the taut skin.

The most surprising thing I’ve discovered about giving my husband head is not that I would enjoy it this much—though that was a surprise—but that it makes me just as wet as his tongue makes me.

When his fingers brush my jaw, I realize how soaked and ready I am.

I allow him to guide my body up his thighs until I’m hovering over his enormous length.

My thighs are braced, lifting me as high as I can go, yet his crown is right there.

I’m no longer nervous about it, about the breath-sucking sensation I feel when he stretches me in every direction.

But tonight is the first time I feel crazy for it.

If he were to push me away now, I would actually throw a tantrum.

I need him inside me. I need to feel the two of us together—two souls entwined, a force to be reckoned with.

My gaze drifts to the scar on his chest, the blood drying in a jagged formation where Arrow cut quickly in his desperation to save his best friend .

Andreas watches me with a possessive heat in his eyes.

“I need to fill you.” His voice breaks. “I need to be inside my woman.”

I flick my gaze to his and my lips part.

Then his eyes narrow as though the pain is searing him. “Sit the fuck down.”

I allow the crown of his cock to find my entrance, then I slide slowly over it, my eyes rolling back at the sensation of him filling me inch by inch until I’m fully wrapped around him.

We both take a minute, allowing the feeling of being joined again to be absorbed into our bones.

In recent months, I’ve read the accounts of women who haven’t been able to come from penetration.

Don’t hate me, but I wonder how it would be possible not to when my husband’s cock presses into every nerve-ending inside me.

I don’t even need to move a whole lot before the heat begins to build.

I feel his palms on my hips, beneath the satin. He moves me up and down, angling my hips just right, seeing as I appear to have disconnected from reality.

“You change me, Serafina,” he groans, brokenly.

I close my eyes against the overwhelming sensation of fucking my husband from above. Being on top only deepens the angle and it’s swiped all consciousness from my brain.

“You make me want to rule the world, just so I can give it to you.”

I melt at his words .

His hands thicken as he pauses my movement to stare into my eyes.

“You make me want to own the fucking sky, the oceans, the earth, so I can make you the Goddess you were born to be.”

He releases me and I sink down onto him again and press my lips to his.

“Perfect,” he murmurs against them. “Every inch, every flaw, every scar. You are so beautiful.” He stretches out the last word as though he’s tasting every consonant, every vowel. “I love you entirely .”

I’m on the brink of combusting into flames and sparks and the stars he wants to give me, but I manage to utter a response. “I love you too… sir.”

“Oh God,” he grunts, suddenly picking up the pace.

I grip his cock as he strokes me up and down it, our open mouths inhaling each other’s breath.

“Give me your surrender,” he pants. “Give it all to me.”

I start to moan incoherently, rapidly reaching the precipice where I plummet into oblivion.

“You look like an angel,” I hear him murmur. “So beautiful, falling apart on my cock. Those eyes losing focus. Your thighs gripping me like I belong to you. And I do, baby. I’m forever yours. And the forever after that. And the forever after that.”

“ Oh! Andreas…” I’m floating on that edge, swimming in his words.

“That’s it. That’s my wife. Choke my cock. Make me come. Make me claim you. ”

Oh God, I want him. I want his come. I want his soul, forever.

The muscles deep in my core tighten as if they never want to release him, and I fall over the edge, not caring what’s over the other side. Because I know, without a fraction of a doubt, that whatever it is and whenever it happens, he will catch me.