Waiting for my Queen: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Cates, Georgia

  I would never work with the feds but not because of any kind of loyalty I feel toward Luca and his family. It simply doesn’t fit into my plans for killing all of the Rossini men.

  12

  Luca Rossini

  This is the third night in a row that Emilia has soaked in the tub before bedtime. She did it the previous two nights because her feet were tormenting her after some difficult rehearsals, but the aroma in the air smells different tonight. Floral. Sweet. Sexy.

  She’s preparing herself for me.

  I’m sitting in bed reading, the radio softly playing in the background, when she opens the bathroom door and stops inside the doorway. She’s wrapped in a towel and her wet hair is in a bun on top of her head. Her face is freshly washed without a bit of makeup, and she’s still a damn beauty.

  Dog-earing the corner of the page, I close my book and place it on top of the nightstand at the bedside. I sit there unmoving and she stands, frozen, tightly gripping the bath towel wrapped around her. Deciding that I should make the first move, I pull back the covers on her side of the bed. An invitation.

  There’s reluctance in her eyes, but she pushes through it and comes to bed. She drops the towel on the floor and quickly slides in beside me, pulling the damn covers up to her chin.

  Emilia doesn’t throw herself at me like other women. Hell, she doesn’t want me at all. And damn, if that doesn’t make me desire her a hundred times more than I already do.

  I’ll wait for her patiently… because I already know that she’s mine. Even if she hasn’t yet realized it.

  She closes her eyes and trembles beneath my touch when I reach beneath the covers and trace my fingertips along her ribs, narrow waist, and curved hip. “You’re shaking.”

  She opens her eyes and looks at me.

  “I’m afraid,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

  “You shouldn’t be. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Her throat bobs when she swallows. “With the way it felt last time, I can’t imagine it not hurting.”

  “Tonight will be different. You’ll like it.”

  She shakes her head, tightly gripping the sheet at her chin. “I won’t like it.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you’re not—” She looks down and fidgets with the sheet.

  “Because I’m not what?”

  “You’re not Nic.”

  I hear his name on her lips, and I’m instantly enraged.

  Will it always be the three of us in this bed? Will I always be competing with a dead man? Or will she eventually forget about Moretti and be able to live the life we were intended to live together?

  Throwing the covers back, I get out of bed and go into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. A few thoughts enter my mind at the same time. One, grabbing Emilia and pulling her to the edge of the bed, shoving my cock into her pussy without warning or preparation. Two, fucking her raw until she cries and begs me to stop. Three, flipping her over facedown to deliver options one and two.

  A punishment fuck. That seems like fair treatment for her after saying his name to me when I’m trying to show her tenderness—a tenderness that I don’t owe her.

  Fucking that pretty little face of hers into the mattress would make me feel a whole lot better. But it would also prove—in her mind—that I am the monster she believes me to be.

  No, I won’t fuck her face into the mattress tonight. I have something much better in mind.

  Despite how much she thinks she’s going to hate what’s about to happen between us, I’m going to make her enjoy it. Love it. Want more of it. More of me. I’m going to consume her daily thoughts. She won’t be able to get me out of her head because I’m going to be there, front and center, erasing any thoughts she might have about Moretti.

  With my plan firmly in place, I return to bed—our battlefield. The place where she will fight me and slowly surrender as I conquer her body.

  “You can leave the light on if you like.”

  She leans over and twists the switch. “I prefer the dark.”

  In the darkness, she doesn’t have to look at me. But she can’t escape feeling me.

  “Forget what you had with him. Let me give you what you deserve.”

  No response. But I’m not discouraged. I know how this is going to go.

  I’ve never been a man who cared anything about the pleasure of a woman, so this will be new territory. I’m going to have to pay careful attention to Emilia’s cues and try to decipher what they mean.

  I’m not fond of slow music, but it’ll help me set the pace for what I’m about to do. And I smile in the dark when a slow Rod Stewart song begins to play on the radio.

  “I Don’t Want To Talk About It.” I know the song well because my bedroom was next to my little sister’s when I lived at home, and she played the damn thing at least a hundred times a day.

  Emilia sucks in air when I move toward her. She’s clearly frightened of me, and she has every right to be. I’ve only shown her brutality when it comes to sex. Now it’s time to show her tenderness.

  I consider the ways a man might put a woman at ease. Kisses. Soft, slow kisses. And gentle caresses.

  Foreplay.

  I turn on my side, facing Emilia, and reach out to her in the dark. Finding her hip, I pull her toward me. When I grip her body, I’m reminded of how small this woman is. My large outstretched palm easily wraps around her hip bone.

  How in the world will this woman ever be able to birth babies with tiny hips like these?

  I recall her mother and grandmother, both small women. Their petite frames didn’t prevent either of them from birthing multiple children, so I guess I shouldn’t worry about that.

  When we’re lying face-to-face, I press my forehead to hers and give her a moment to adjust to the close proximity of our bodies. Give her time to see that tonight is going to be different.

  That I’m going to be different.

  I cup the side of her face with my hand, my fingertips flirting with the nape of her neck. Her breath is rapid against my mouth, and I take a moment to consider how she’s no longer a virgin, but she still possesses the innocence of one.

  I curl my fingers around her nape and lean in, intending to press a soft kiss against her lips, but she turns away. I’m not surprised she doesn’t allow me to kiss her. I don’t expect her to. At least not with this attempt.

  Moving my lips, I drag them along her jawline until I reach her neck just below her ear. Opening my mouth, my tongue caresses her silky-smooth skin as I work my way toward the bend of her shoulder.

  I listen intently for any sign of arousal. Increased breathing? Moaning? Sighing? But I get nothing out of her. She isn’t going to make this easy for me. I can see that right now.

  Lightly, I knead the muscles in her back while my hand makes its way down her spine. The curve of her lower back is where I stop advancing instead of gripping her ass and pulling her against my hard cock.

  I make a second attempt at kissing her, and she denies me once more. And again, I’m not surprised. I fully expect her to play hard to get.

  Moving to the other side of her neck, I nuzzle my nose against her skin and inhale. Whether she realizes it or not, she prepared herself for this—for me—tonight. That means something.

  “You smell so good.”

  No reply.

  My hand abandons the curve of her lower spine and grips the side of her hip, encouraging her to roll to her back, which she does without hesitation.

  Flattening my hand against her stomach, I slowly move it in a downward circular motion until the tips of my fingers lightly graze the top of her pubic bone. And that’s when I hear an almost nonexistent gasp from her mouth.

  Finally, some kind of reaction out of her.

  Wrapping my hand around the back of one of her thighs, I bend it at the knee, spreading her legs apart. I wait a moment to see if she’ll close them, and I’m pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t.

  Sli
ding my flattened palm down her stomach, I cup my fingers around the apex between her thighs. I begin by stroking her front to back and back to front, rubbing her so gently that I’m certain she can barely feel my touch. It’s just a tease really, to show her that my fingers do have the talent and inclination to pleasure her.

  She widens the part between her legs and slightly lifts her pelvis in an upward direction. I smile against her neck as I kiss it because I can feel her softening to my touch. Bending to my will. Lowering those walls that have been keeping me out.

  Although small, this is my first real victory with Emilia.

  I go in for the kiss, my third attempt, and this time I don’t give her the opportunity to turn away. I suck her bottom lip, gently holding it hostage with the suction of my mouth for a moment before releasing.

  A second victory. Sort of.

  My hand rewards her with increased friction and her breath deepens, accompanied by a barely-there moan. I’m dying for some kind of verbal reassurance, but words could break the spell she’s under, and I’m not yet willing to risk it. I want her to be completely absorbed by the sensations she’s experiencing. The sensations I’m giving her.

  These small victories are encouraging, so I decide to seize a deeper kiss. A kiss that will lead to everything else I desire from her.

  All it takes is a simple brush of my tongue against the seam of her lips, and she opens fully for me. Being inside her this way for the first time makes me aware of every nerve-ending in my body. Because they’re all on fire.

  I’ve never felt inclined to kiss at length because I’ve seen it as a weakness—an unnecessary act that women want and only weak men give in to. But as I kiss Emilia, I find myself enjoying the intimacy of it between us. Kissing her is like coming home after being away for a very long time.

  Emilia Bellini. She tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted.

  Tangling one of my legs around hers, I spread her beneath me, pinning her against the bed. I continue petting her, one of my fingers straying away from the others and finding its way inside her hot, wet cleft where it easily slips and slides through her slickness.

  It was only moments ago that Emilia was rejecting my kisses. Now, she can’t kiss me fast enough or hard enough as my fingers play her like a lovely instrument in a seductive orchestra.

  I too can’t kiss her hard enough, can’t hold her tightly enough, can’t touch enough of her body. In this moment, my entire world is limited to this woman and the touch of her lips on my mine, the feel of my hand between her legs. Anything beyond these things, beyond her, doesn’t exist. It’s only the two of us in this world as I obey the writhing desire that is burning inside me.

  She stops kissing me and breathes heavily against my mouth. “Luca—”

  I revel in the breathless whisper of my name on her lips because I know what it means. I know the pleasure that’s building inside of her.

  “Just breathe and let it happen. It’ll be the best feeling you’ve ever had.”

  She grips the back of my neck and tenses, holding me tightly with our foreheads pressed together. She shudders, her body fracturing beneath me as she comes apart. A broken whimper leaves her mouth, and I swear that making her come is the best trophy I’ve ever won.

  She relaxes and releases her grip on my neck, her minty breath remaining heavy against my mouth. And I can’t resist kissing her in her aftermath of ecstasy.

  “Don’t stop. I want the rest. Give me everything. Show me what else there is.”

  I have her. I finally have her. And I’ll burn the world down to keep her.

  “I’ll give you anything you want, Emilia.”

  Moving to kneel between her legs, I push my boxers down mine. When I’m bare, I lower my body to hers. My heart pounds and my breath trembles as I settle my hips between her parted thighs, my length pressing against her. Unexpectedly, Emilia hooks one of her legs around me and moves her hips, adjusting the alignment of my erection until my tip is perfectly placed for entering.

  Fuck, I think I’m actually nervous about being with her this time.

  Why?

  I don’t know why.

  Yes, I do.

  I was high on coke the first time we were together. And I know what that shit does to my level of confidence. One little white line and I turn into fucking Superman. I’m invincible and incredible at everything I do. It’s one of the reasons I love the shit so much, but I’m not stupid. I know that it’s my own personal perception of myself and not everyone else’s.

  Our first time together could have truly been terrible, and I wouldn’t know it. That’s why this time needs to be perfect. To make up for any inadequacies that might have happened the first time.

  For a brief second, I feel light-headed, a large volume of blood rushing to my dick all at once. Cocaine or not, I’m confident that I’ve never been fuller or harder.

  My hand follows the length of her arm until it finds her hand. I push my fingers through hers, intertwining them into a clasp and resting them on the bed beside her head. I squeeze gently, and she does the same as I kiss her and slowly push into her, inch by inch, until I’m fully sheathed inside her.

  I devour her soft moan against my mouth and smile when her other leg hooks around my waist, the soles of her feet running down the muscles of my calves.

  Pulling back, I slowly advance again and again, every thrust intentional. Emilia wraps her free arm around my shoulders and holds me tightly, kissing me as I move in and out of her.

  Our kissing is slower now. Gentler. And damn, I make a realization. We are not fucking. This is making love.

  Lovemaking. Is that even possible when two people aren’t in love? I don’t know, but either way, I’m enjoying this new-to-me kind of sex.

  This—I need this. Her. Emilia. The life we’re going to have together. The babies we’re going to make. All of it.

  I’m inside her, on top of her, around her. I’m everywhere and she can’t escape me.

  She moans my name, and I know that in that moment, I’m her everything all at once.

  We are fused, two hearts beating as one, and I promise myself—and her—that it will always be like this between us.

  She bites my lip, making me growl into her mouth. And then I feel her breaking apart beneath me again as I continue to move. Her climax prompts my own, and I find my release inside her. I’m not quite ready for this to be over so I remain inside her for a moment, gradually becoming soft and eventually sliding out of her. She whimpers at the loss, and I place a kiss against her mouth.

  Moving off of her, I lie on my back in the middle of the king-size bed. I don’t scoot to my side because I want to be near her. Even if it’s only the brushing of our shoulders, it satisfies my need to be touching her.

  At some point “So Into You” by Atlanta Rhythm Section has begun to play on the radio, and I tap my toe against the mattress, keeping beat with the music.

  “Musician?”

  I chuckle. “No. My father would’ve killed me before having a son who played a musical instrument.”

  “Why?”

  “His opinion is that an interest in music and art makes a man soft.”

  “What about ballet?”

  She’s got to be kidding me.

  “Ballet is fine for a woman but not a man.”

  “My dance partner is very manly.”

  What the fuck? “You have a male dance partner?”

  “Yes. His name is Peter and he’s not soft.”

  “Peter’s peter had better not be anything but soft around you.”

  She bursts into laughter. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in Peter’s peter.”

  “I won’t have my wife being handled by another man.”

  “I’m not your wife.”

  “But you’re going to be.”

  “Only if I get pregnant.”

  “It’s going to happen, Emilia.”

  “And what if it doesn’t?”

  I sit up and place my hand
on her stomach. “There will be a baby inside you soon. I’m certain of it.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.”

  “I do know.”

  “How? Do you have a crystal ball?”

  “It will happen because it’s what I want. And I always get what I want.”

  “What if I become pregnant and it’s a girl?”

  “We must have a boy first. A girl can come later.”

  “It took years for my mother to have a boy. So long that my parents had given up on a son and accepted they would only have girls.”

  “My mother had all boys with the exception of my one sister. We will have boys too.”

  “We will have what God gives us.”

  “Well, it’s difficult to argue with that.”

  She places her hand on top of mine. “I think we should do it again.”

  “Because you want to increase the odds of conceiving?”

  “Of course. I have a lot on the line here. I need a son as badly as you need one.”

  “Then my hand between your legs won’t be required?”

  “It’s not required, but it was quite nice.”

  “You liked it?”

  Her hand skims up my arm, reaching my shoulder. “I liked everything about tonight.”

  This is the girl who said she wouldn’t like it because I wasn’t him. This is the girl who used the word dreadful to describe our first sexual encounter, and I’m certain she meant it. Now, she tells me she liked everything.

  What a turnaround this is.

  I’m not sure which is sexier, her beauty or her submission.

  “You came twice.” Two times. As experienced as I am, it takes me a while to pull off a second one.

  “I wouldn’t be mad if you made it three times.”

  Ah, someone’s just being greedy now.

  I wanted to punish Emilia by making her enjoy sex with me, but I don’t think she’s the least bit tormented by how much she liked it. Not exactly what I had planned but it works for me.

  “Why settle for three?”

  13

  Emilia Bellini