Page 122 of Vows of Blood

She takes her time, and I let her, watching in wonder as she works me with that combination of sweetness and seductiveness that drives me out of my mind. But when the pressure starts building, when my balls tighten and I’m close to coming, I tug gently on her hair.

"If you want a baby," I manage to growl out, "you’re going about it the wrong way."

She lifts her head, mouth swollen, then gives me a look of pure mischief. "There's lots of time for that."

I shake my head. "I disagree."

She laughs and it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Then she rises up on her knees, edging forward until she’s hovering over me, and sinks down, inch by agonizing inch, until I'm buried inside her completely. “Better?”

“Fuck yes.” My hands grip her hips, every muscle in my body taut as she rolls forward and sets a rhythm that's going to end me embarrassingly fast.

She braces her hands on the headboard, looking down at me with adoration that I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I deserve.

"Do you always get your way?" she whispers with a teasing smile.

I pull her down and kiss her, one hand holding the back of her neck, so she’s pressed against me, feeling pretty fucking smug about how things worked out.

"I got you to be my wife, didn't I?"

EPILOGUE

SIENNA

THREE MONTHS LATER

The study is thick with tension as Luca leans forward in his chair, both hands flat on the desk, his voice dangerously quiet. Biting my lip, I watch Luca’s mouth thin before he runs his tongue along his bottom lip, digging his teeth in for a split second while he controls his temper before releasing it.

"Say that again."

I stare at his long, tanned fingers, splayed wide, and the gold band that means he’s all mine. I didn’t think hands could be sexy, but his definitely are. Maybe it’s because I know what he can do with them.

The man across from him, a mid-level captain named Ricci, shifts uncomfortably in his leather chair. Sweat beads on his temples, unaffected by the air conditioning, and he dabs it away with a napkin, making himself look weak.

From my position by the window, I watch, tablet in my hands displaying the accounts we've been reviewing, and I press my legs together.

Seeing how Luca can instil such fear in these powerful men turns me on. It’s the main reason I started volunteering to come to these meetings.

"The shipment was delayed, boss. There was a problem at the port, and we didn’t know…"

Shaking my head, I tut. The only problem my husband wants to hear about is one that's already fixed.

It’s not lost on me that over the last three months, my confidence around Luca’s colleagues and my acceptance of what he does has grown.

Choosing to only be involved in the legitimate sides of the business, like real estate and restaurants, I’ve managed to compartmentalize the darker sides of his empire.

"A problem. A problem that cost us two hundred thousand dollars and put three of our men at risk of arrest." Luca’s furious, rightly so.

"It wasn't my fault. The contact…"

Oops. Another misstep. Shifting blame, making excuses, all big, big no-nos. This is Mafia 101. How do I know this when I’ve only been around these guys for a few months, and this guy grew up surrounded by it?

"The contact is your responsibility." Luca rises slowly, and even from across the room, I can see Ricci shrink back. "Every contact, every handoff, every fucking detail is your responsibility. That's why you're in the position you're in. That's why you get the cut you get. Or, used to get."

He comes from behind his large desk, long legs eating up the distance quickly, before coming to stand directly in front of Ricci's chair, using his size to intimidate him further and drive home just how precarious his position is.

"So when a shipment goes sideways because someone didn't do their job, whose fault is it?"

Ricci gulps. "Mine, boss."