The pressure of his hand drew me to my feet, pulling me against him. I could feel the strong press of his muscles up against my stomach, up against my breasts.
Suddenly, Alessandro drew back. Guilt and pain on his face. “Forgive me, Sophia,” he said heavily. “You are still recovering—”
Cold air blew against me, telling my body what had happened. It did nothing to cool down the growing ache between my legs, the kindling fire in my belly.
“Alessandro.” My mouth had come back to life. “Fuck me.”
He went very still.
I was moving toward him, his skin and his smell and his warmth. He did not move as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Those dark eyes were wide with growing hunger and shock. I rose on my tiptoes, and moved his head down, pressing my lips against his.
For a moment he was a statue, but then Alessandro’s arms were banding around me and pulling me to him. Our lips rolled and moved, soft and nervous and searching.
Fire trailed from my lips and further down...
I moaned against him.
Alessandro, in one smooth movement, scooped me up and then walked back until I was lying on the bed. We sunk into the mattress together.
“Alessandro,” I whined, my voice not truly behaving how it is meant to.
Alessandro leaned over me, a domineering presence. “What do you want, Sophia?” he inquired, those lips of his coming closer and closer and closer—only to rest on my jawline. “What do you want, Sophia?”
“You. Now.”
That made him lift himself up, a look of pure animal hunger in his eyes, and then he was on top of me, kissing me into the bed. I wrapped my legs around his waist and took from him with just as much hunger. My body was getting so warm so quickly and I needed—I needed him so much.
Those secret dreams that had been my only solace these past weeks were now awakening. And reality was so much better.
“Alessandro,” I fiddled with his shirt, sliding it off him and tossing it to the floor. Then I went for his pants, but he trapped my hands, laughing.
Just to taunt me, he rubbed himself on me, which just made me tighten. “So hungry, Sophia.” His tongue slid down my neck, not helping my case. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
I would not give him the satisfaction of having all the control. So, I said, “Hop off.”
He paused and then brought himself back, detaching himself from me quickly. Those dark eyes were now mixed with worry. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. I was just getting too warm. I need to cool off.”
I grabbed the bottom of my nightgown and tossed it over my head. My bare body gleamed in the darkening room and when I spread my legs, it became very obvious that Alessandro was completely ready to have me. He was gripping the bed so hard it groaned and his dick was pressing against his pants with an admirable force.
I met his eyes. You should’ve known better than to go up against me, my love.
I could see a ghost of a smile in the scant light. He said aloud, “Sophia.”
“Mmm?” My fingers were trailing down my body, closer and closer to my ache. The closer I got the more energy Alessandro seemed to produce. He was vibrating with it. Then I touched the exact spot and let out a small cry. My fingers were brash against the wetness, making my heart pound and my stomach twist.
“Sophia.” He didn’t sound like my husband anymore. His voice was guttered, a mixture of feral lust and need.
I pressed myself harder. “What’s—what’s the matter, my capo? Cat got—got your tongue.” My tease would’ve been better had I not been so bloody hot and distracted.
“Have you cooled down?” he asked. He wanted to touch me again.
I shrugged. “Come feel for yourself.”
As quick as a snake, Alessandro had me laying on my back, him over me, and his fingers had gone straight to me. I let out a cry, especially as he began to rub and pull and press and—Oh my God!
His eyes seemed to burn with lust and he leaned down to get closer to my lips. But just before he reached them, he cocked his head to the side.
“Look how much you like this,” Alessandro purred. Then pulled his fingers out of me. I let out another cry—very involuntary. But he had me only getting wetter and hotter.
With a smile, he pushed a finger inside of me, which had me saying his name over and over. A prayer.
I wanted his hand—I wanted him inside of me.
“Oh, fuck, Sophia.” He pressed harder into me, which had me gripping his shoulders so tight I knew I’d leave scratches.
“Get inside of me, Alessandro,” I said, the words hard to understand. “Now—now get in me.”
Alessandro’s fingers stopped suddenly. “Four weeks,” he breathed.
“28 days,” I heaved back.
“672 hours,” Alessandro countered.
Our momentum slowly came to a stop, and we untangled ourselves from each other. I pressed my arm to my forehead, trying to catch my breath.
My husband was breathing just as heavily, still poised above me. He didn’t come lay down though. No, he just rose up on his knees and watched me. He was admiring me, admiring what he had done to me. His tongue licked his lips.
“What are you looking at?” I asked him.
Alessandro grinned. “You.” He leaned in close. My body was instantly ready again for— “You know I’ve thought about having sex with you a thousand times. I have made up your noises and how you react to certain touches. But…I’ve never been able to figure out what you look like after.” His eyes rolled down me. “And I still don’t know.”
“You can make a pretty educated guess,” I muttered.
“Guessing is not as much fun,” he purred, his hand trailing down my bare skin. “If you look like a goddess, now I can only imagine...”
I flushed. It was so vain of me but I couldn’t help my mind from darting to the pink lines across my breasts or the stretchmarks cast over my stomach.
Alessandro didn’t seem to notice them as he leaned down into my chest, burying his face into my boobs. “Four weeks,” he groaned, his grip on me tightening.
“I’m sure that is just a recommendation,” I offered. “I bet we could have sex before then.”
He lifted his head, leaning on his chin. “Doctor’s orders, my love.”
“Is my big scary capo scared to go up against a doctor?” I crooned, running my fingers through his hair.
Alessandro snapped his teeth at me, but his eyes held humor. I couldn’t help but feel growing smugness at being the one to make him laugh, smile. No one else could manage to do it—or was too scared to try.
My husband pulled away, sliding off the bed.
“Where are you going?” I asked, lifting myself onto my elbows.
He looked at me over his shoulder and groaned. “I’ve got to take a cold shower,” he muttered. “And think about my grandmother or something.”
I looked over at Dante’s bassinet, but my son continued to sleep soundly. Thank goodness, I thought. If we had woken up Dante, I would’ve started crying.
Again.
I dressed myself once more, continued my night routine before settling into bed. Alessandro came out of the bathroom not long after, his skin still freezing from standing under the cold shower spray.