Loving the Enemy (Enemy Duet Book 2)

by Amy Cecil

  “Got it.”

  “Oh, and before I forget, Sainte has left our organization. He wants to patch in with the Knights.”

  “What the fuck, Mikey?” Sal exclaims. “You can’t just let someone out of the organization, Mikey, what if he talks?”

  “Calm down, Sal. It’s all good. Sainte won’t be talking. He’s been good for the MC, and besides, he’s got personal ties with them that he has to face. Now is as good as a time as any for him to do so.”

  “What kind of personal ties?” Sal asks.

  “Not my story to tell, Sal, but I get it.”

  He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything more.

  “I think we’re done here,” I say. “Gentlemen.”

  Alex walks toward me as everyone else makes their good-byes and leaves, “Mikey, I’m sorry for questioning you.”

  “Alex, I take no offense to your questions. You’re still learning, and hopefully I’m teaching you, just like Pop taught me.”

  “I really mean no disrespect, big brother.”

  I give him a pat on the back. “None taken. Can I trust you to keep things quiet while I’m gone?”

  “Of course, Mikey, I won’t let you down,” Alex replies.

  “Good, now I’m gonna go get my bride and get the hell out of here,” I say with a laugh. “Ricco, you ready?”

  “Yeah, boss.”

  Alex calls after us, “Have a great time.”

  ***

  “Michael, I’m so excited. I packed in such a rush; I hope I didn’t forget anything,” Zaira says as we sit on the plane waiting for it to take off. Ricco is sitting behind us, keeping to himself. We have one attendant who will serve us, but other than them, it’s just us on the plane.

  The Vitali jet is huge. It’s a 757, but the interior has been converted. There is a kitchen, three bathrooms, an office, and three suites, each with their own private baths. If we had to, we could live on this plane, only touching ground to refuel. Zaira is in awe of the jet, and I realize she has never been on it before.

  “So you like Lucy?”

  “Lucy?” she asks.

  I laugh. “Yeah, the jet. Pop named her years ago, and it kinda stuck.”

  She laughs. “Your father is an odd one.”

  “Yeah, but you gotta love him.”

  “Yeah, you most definitely do.”

  Eric’s voice comes over the intercom. “Mr. Vitali, the flight tower has informed me we are next in line. Please remain seated with your seat belts on until after we take off.”

  Zaira and I sit in the bucket seats by the kitchen. Ricco is still seated behind us. We all put on our seat belts and patiently wait. As the plane begins to make its way down the runway, we both feel it lift off and soar into the sky. For as many times as I have been on an airplane, it will never cease to amaze me how these monstrosities get off the ground.

  We continue to climb and then we feel the plane level off. “Mr. and Mrs. Vitali, we will be reaching a cruising altitude of thirty thousand feet. You are now free to walk about the cabin. We should arrive in Florence in roughly ten hours.

  “Ten hours! I didn’t realize it was that long,” Zaira says.

  I give her a mischievous smile. “Whatever will we do with ten hours alone?”

  “I know, perhaps we can play chess?” she asks, teasing back.

  “Oh, darling, I can think of better things to do than play chess.” I pull her out of her seat and onto my lap. “After all, we’re on our honeymoon,” I say before my lips take hers in a desperate kiss. “So, are you ready to become a member of the mile-high club?”

  She gives me the most devilish grin, and before I answer, I am up out of our seat with her in my arms and carry her toward the master suite.

  “But what about Ricco?” she asks.

  Ricco starts to laugh as I reply, “He can find his own woman to initiate into the mile-high club.”

  Once we’re alone in the master suite, I pull her body against mine, crushing my lips to hers. Every time I taste her lips, it’s like coming home. I’m still having a hard time believing she is really here, that she really is mine. The thought makes my dick get even harder. I ravage her mouth, drinking in her lips and swirling my tongue with hers. She kisses me back hungrily, and it just makes me want to kiss her more.

  She pulls away from our kiss and looks at me intently. She leans in and trails kisses from the back of my ear, down around my neck, and all the way down my torso, paying particular attention to the sides of my ribcage. Her lips are perfect and leave a trail of desire in their path. She is making me forget about Gallardi, Pop, and everything else we have left behind at home and making me focus on nothing else but the incredible pleasure she is now providing me.

  She works her way toward my erection, coming in closer as she pushes her way between my legs, curling her hand around me. My hands go to her hair as I grab hold and pull her closer, indicating I want her mouth on me. I need to feel her succulent mouth now. She licks my cock as if she were licking a lollipop and then she takes all of me in her warm, wet mouth and sucks. Holy fuck!

  “Look at me, Zaira. I want to see your eyes while you have my dick in your mouth.”

  She does as she is told, and I fight the urge to grab her hair harder and completely take over fucking her mouth. I could take control of this, but she knows what I want, and I know without a doubt she will give me exactly what I need.

  My dick hits the back of her throat as her hand reaches up to massage my balls. And then she fucking hums. The vibration from her throat is unbelievable. If this isn’t fucking ecstasy, I don’t know what is. God, she is so fucking perfect.

  When I’m about to come, I take over and flip her on her back. Without a moment’s hesitation, I am balls deep inside her, and her moans are driving me over the edge. Our fucking is ravenous, filled with need. But then, as I gaze into her beautiful brown eyes, we slow, feeling each other.

  The strain begins to build, and her walls tighten around me. As she reaches her release, she says, “I love you, Michael.” Her words are my undoing, and I am filling her with my cum.

  “God, baby, I love you too.”

  Chapter 25

  Zaira

  “Zaira, baby. Wake up, love.” I faintly hear Michael’s voice as he tries to rouse me from my sleep.

  “What?” I say in my half-dazed state.

  “We’re gonna be landing soon, babe. You need to get dressed and get your seat belt on.”

  “Oh, okay.” I take a long drawn-out stretch and rub my eyes as I try to wake up some more and remember I am still on the Vitali jet. We’re about to land in Florence. Suddenly, I’m wide awake as the excitement that my honeymoon with the man I love is about to commence.

  I get up from the bed and stroll into the bathroom. After I wash my face and brush my teeth, I quickly get dressed and make my way into the main cabin. Michael is already seated, and I take the seat next to him and buckle myself in. Ricco is in the same seat he was in last night. Hopefully he was able to get some sleep.

  “You know, the last time I was in Florence, I was I think twelve,” I say.

  “Well, darling, then you are in a for a real treat.”

  I smile. “I’m so excited, Michael.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m so glad. I’ve got big plans for us for the next two weeks. And, I’m gonna take you to see some of my extended family. I haven’t seen them in years, and I’m looking forward to seeing them and of course showing you off.”

  Eric announces we are approaching Peretola Airport and that we are beginning our descent. I immediately grab Michael’s hand.

  “Scared?” he asks.

  Sheepishly, I reply, “A little. I really don’t mind flying, but I really hate landing.”

  “I got you, babe. Nothing to worry about. Eric is a very skilled pilot. I’ve experienced some of the smoothest landings with him in the cockpit.”

  Before I know it, the plane has touched down and we are taxiing down the runway. Michael was right; it was a
smooth landing. The plane makes its way to the private terminal, and we get off the plane and wait a few minutes for them to load our luggage into the waiting limo. We all get in and are now heading toward the city and the Vitali private villa.

  The house sits on the crest of a hill overlooking the city, surrounded by acres of land. Michael points out that the land is mostly consumed with olive trees and many fruit trees like apricot, pear, and plum.

  “My great uncle owns an olive oil import business and has harvested olives from here on many occasions,” Michael says as we drive up the long driveway.

  We walk inside, and the house is massive. It has a huge entryway with a ceiling that I swear is over thirty feet high. “This is amazing, Michael,” I say, and my voice echoes in the grand foyer.

  “Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He holds out his hand. “Come, let me show you around.”

  He takes me through the downstairs rooms, and there are so many of them, including a ballroom and a library that came straight out of Beauty and the Beast. There is a formal dining room, a casual dining room, several parlors and sitting rooms, three offices, and a veranda overlooking a pool that supersedes the one in Long Island. “Can we live here?” I ask, and Michael laughs.

  “Sometimes I wish I could,” he says. “But I will promise you this, we will definitely spend time here every year.”

  “Oh, I like that idea,” I reply. We walk up the grand staircase, and Michael takes me straight to the master suite.

  “I should have carried you over the threshold,” he says, standing in the doorway. “Will this do?” And before I can answer, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me into our bedroom. Once inside, he puts me down and smiles. “Check it out.”

  I walk around the room, taking it in. I swear it is the size of a small house. It has its own kitchen, a living area as well as a private bath, which is divided into sections: the sink, the toilet, and the shower. The shower is as big as a room itself. I turn toward him and say, “It’s absolutely stunning.”

  “So you like it?”

  “Yes, of course I do. What’s not to like?”

  He smiles. “I want to show you one more thing.” He walks toward me and takes my hand and leads me to the double French doors that open to a balcony. The view is absolutely amazing. Laid out before me is the city of Florence. I can see the Arno River, Santa Croce, Santa Maria del Fiore—or The Duomo—and the Palazzo Vecchico. “Are we going to get to see all those things?” I ask.

  “Whatever you want, darling. This trip is for you.” He hands me a booklet. “I picked this up before we left. It’s a travel book. Pick out anything you want to see.”

  I take the book from him, walk to the sitting area, and plop myself into the most comfortable chair and begin to peruse. “There are so many things to do and see here.”

  “Most people look at Tuscany as a world, and Italy as the universe. Many say five lifetimes would not be enough to explore everything, but since we are in a small part of that universe, we’ll do the best we can.”

  “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been told a time or two,” he replies smugly and laughs. God, I love this man.

  “But first,” he says as he saunters toward me “I think you need to get more comfortable.” He laughs seductively as he takes the book from my hands and takes my hand to pull me from the chair. Slowly, he removes my clothes.

  “Why, Mr. Vitali, we’ve not even been here an hour yet,” I tease.

  “And it’s been entirely too long not to have you in my bed,” he replies.

  I place my hand on his growing erection and gently stroke him through his jeans. I love the feel of him. “Well then, what have you been waiting for?”

  “Hell if I know.” He moans into my neck. He moves his hands to my hips and digs his fingers into my flesh as if he is holding on for dear life. Looking into my eyes, he reaches down and slides his hand up along my left thigh. Once it travels to the apex, his thumb brushes against my panties, and he moans when he feels the wetness that has settled on the silky fabric between my legs. A growl slips from his lips as he takes his finger and moves my panties to one side. My breath hitches as he slips his finger inside me. He nuzzles against my ear and says, “You are so fucking wet for me.”

  It’s my turn to moan, his words lighting a fire within me that rages with desire. I need him, now! “Michael, please.”

  “What do you want, baby?” he huskily asks in my ear.

  Dazed with pleasure, I reply, “You.”

  “You have me,” he teases. “You need to be more specific, love.”

  “Fuck me.” I exhale audibly. “I want you to fuck me.” I hesitate before I say, “Now!”

  He doesn’t need to hear anything more specific than that, so he quickly removes my bra and panties. I grasp at the button on his jeans and undo it and his zipper, then urgently push them to his ankles.

  Once we’re both completely naked, he pauses so his gaze can greedily roam my body. My heart is racing from the burning heat I see in his eyes. He bends down to capture my left nipple between his lips, and he sucks it into his warm, wet mouth. Oh, God! His fingers are still working me, and I feel my orgasm building.

  Just as I am about to find my release, Michael bites down on my now very erect and sensitive nipple, sending the most incredible pain and pleasure sensations through my body. My orgasm lets loose, and my body begins to convulse.

  He doesn’t give me time to ride my pleasure out, instead turning me around and bending me over the side of the bed. He slaps my ass, hard, and then plunges himself deep inside me.

  He pumps into me hard and fast, and my body is taking every bit of it. The feeling is intense, and I can’t help but scream with each thrust. He’s close; I can feel him growing inside me, and before I know it, his warmth fills me. He pumps so much into me that I feel it dripping down my leg. He owns me. He always has, and he always will. As he catches his breath, completely spent, he leans over me and says, “God, baby, I don’t know how I would have survived if you didn’t come back to me.”

  He pulls out, and I am surprised to see he is still hard. “Get on the bed, babe,” he commands and lies on the bed next to me. “Come here, baby. I need to see you come.”

  I straddle his waist, but he pulls me forward until my knees are nestled on either side of his face. He lightly kisses up my inner thigh, rendering me weak with desire. I place my hands on the wall above his head to maintain some semblance of balance as his tongue slides across my clit. Oh, fuck! I can’t help but cry out. The pleasure is consuming.

  He licks at our combined juices, and right now, nothing else matters in this world but his warm, velvety soft tongue and what it’s doing to me. My entire body trembles as he swirls his tongue along and around my clit. I grind into his face, increasing the friction he’s generating.

  As I’m about to release again, he slides his fingers into me while his tongue continues to wreak havoc on my clit. My orgasm floods my body with spasm after spasm as my pussy clamps down on his fingers, milking him for more. When I can’t take any more, I move off of him and lie on my back next to him.

  “You okay, baby?” he asks.

  I look at him and smile, completely satisfied. I have no words, but I am convinced that the purr coming from deep in my throat tells him I’ve never been better. I inch myself closer, snuggling into his side.

  We lie like that for a while until Michael says, “We have to go outside, walk around and get some fresh air. It’s the best way to avoid jet lag.” He smacks my butt and jumps out of bed.

  We spend the rest of the afternoon walking around the garden and relaxing by the pool. It’s been the perfect first day of what promises to be the perfect honeymoon.

  Chapter 26

  Michael

  Zaira and I spent the next week and a half sightseeing and fucking. I personally like the fucking part, but I have to say it poses a close second place to the smile that has been adorning her face. It wa
rms my heart to see her so happy and content.

  Everything we’ve done has made her smile, but the best was yesterday when we visited the Uffizi in Florence. Zaira has always loved Renaissance art, and having many of the greats like Michelangelo, Leonardo, and Raffaello—among many others—in one place was a real treat for her. When we were walking through the portion of gallery that housed many of Michelangelo’s early works, she literally squealed when she turned the corner, and there in all its magnificence was the David. I have to hand it to the gallery. They have it placed in the perfect spot, at the end of the hallway in a domed section of the gallery. The sun’s rays radiated through the dome stained-glass windows, and it made the statue appear like it was glowing. It really is a sight to see. I remember coming here when I was a kid, but I really didn’t appreciate what I was seeing back then. I’m so glad the gallery was on our list of attractions.

  Tonight we’re getting ready to visit my great uncle, Giorgio. I watch Zaira as she sits at her vanity, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She looks absolutely stunning in her simple black cocktail dress. It has a sweetheart neckline and drops down low in the back. I walk toward her and give her a soft kiss on her neck. “You look lovely,” I say in her ear, and she shudders.

  Smiling up at me, she hands me a string of pearls and asks, “Can you put these on me, please?”

  I seductively place the pearls around her neck, allowing their weight to lie heavy against her skin. When I brush my fingers across the back of her neck, she shudders again and goose bumps rise on her skin. “If you keep that up, we won’t be visiting your uncle tonight,” she states.

  “I can always reschedule.”

  She gives me that look that says, Be serious, Michael. If she only knew I was being serious…

  I chuckle as I hook the clasp on her pearls. I give her another kiss right behind her left ear and whisper, “Magnificent.”

  “Thank you,” she says and there it is, that smile again. I will never tire of it. She turns to face me, and her eyes roam my body. “You’re looking pretty handsome there yourself.”