Page 216 of Vita Mia

“Later, I promise butterfly,” he winked.

She smiled and nodded.

“Eve, why don’t you take your brothers and go inside to the TV room. Your favorite show is about to start.”

“Benornato Topo Gigio!” Gino said.

The boy’s eyes stretched. Eve grinned. She nodded. They all loved the show. “Andiamo,” she said.

Giovanni pushed back and set Gino down on his feet. He got up from his seat and reached for Mirabella’s hand. They went with the children back inside. She let Leeza go with the kids and together she and Giovanni slipped upstairs unseen. The anticipation of having her alone with him caused him to perspire. It was two seconds past too late when he pinned her to the closed bedroom door and resumed their kiss. He didn’t mean to yank at her clothes, but he did. And she pulled at his with equal aggression. They stripped each other as they went to the bed without a word spoken between them. He went down first and she crawled on top of him.

“Yess...” he breathed when her silky skin grazed his. He found he couldn’t breathe. He drowned in her mouth and gripped her hips to help her position herself. He felt it when his erection slipped up into a channel to secure warmth. His entire body flushed with heat. Each gasp she released as she took him inch by inch sent a surging wave of mental copulation between them. And then she was seated on his cock. Ever so slowly the undulating motion of her pelvis set off deep groans and grunts of torment from him. How could he not release? How could he not let go, the moment he was in her?

To summon the physical strength to avoid a premature release he relied on his mental strength. And soon he slipped into the trance he often found himself in when he was locked away from her. His soul left his body. He became a voyeur to their passion. Standing at the side of the bed watching as his half-naked wife rode his cock with her back arched and plump nipples pointed north. Her hands were behind her braced to his knees, her lips parted in a pleasured cry, and her hips gyrated back and forth with mounting intensity. He heard his own voice from outside of his body plead for mercy. He could not connect with her. Not in the way he had in the past. A believer in all the good that could be made from his loving of her. He knew the pain and destruction his love had brought into her life. So though he succumbs to the bliss he detached as well. And it was a heart-wrenching experience. He willed himself to believe that he deserved such devotion. The vanishing point was her destination and she was dragging him by the balls there with her to the point of no return. His mind cleared of all the horror and heartbreak he felt since he lost her and their family. She filled his spirit with every precious moment they shared in their marriage. She did it without a word, everything between them communicated deeper love and impassioned commitment. Carnal velocity shifted a gear in his mind and he returned to the passion. He flipped her to her back. With his left hand cupping her left buttock and his right shoulder and arm pinning her right leg back he opened her up for the take down. She stared up at him.

“Take me there, baby,” she said. Her voice hit a decibel of tenderness that nearly shattered his strength. But he held on. He was almost pure animal when he fucked her hard and fast. He bit down on her shoulder, not too hard but hard enough for her to cry out as he pounded his lust, desire, hope, and plea for redemption into her soft pussy. Every cell in his body began to deconstruct. He was no longer a victim. He was reborn. He was her husband. Her Don. Her soulmate.

She cried out something about loving him, and needing him. He kissed her bruised shoulder where he’d left his bite, he kissed her face and lips. He fucked her, and fucked her, and fucked her until he couldn’t move. And then he wept against her breast and released his pain and regret over the deaths of his men and friends. She let him stay that way, between her thighs, and against her heartbeat. Until they were both healed.

***

MIRABELLA CAME OUTof the bathroom freshly showered. She wore his robe instead of her own. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything else. Giovanni lay on the bed with the sheet tangled around his waist and left thigh. He stared up at the ceiling paralyzed by his raw emotions. She saw the scars from his imprisonment. She knew his body and each mark that should be there was now met with a new brutal branding as if he were tagged in hell. She bit back her own tears at the sight of the evidence of his suffering.

“Are you okay?” she asked with a tremor to her voice.

He lowered his gaze from the ceiling to her. He smiled, that half-smile he used to give her. “I will be.”

“I feel like, it’s been a long time, a really long time for us. You know? It feels... different.”

“We’re different,” he replied.

She bit back her emotion and tried to keep it out of her voice.

“I have never stopped loving you Gio, not one single day of our married life. No matter what I know and don’t know it never changes my love for you.”

He nodded.

“I like your haircut.”

She touched the short bob-cut style and blushed.

“It suits you Bella.”

“It’s different I know. I’m different, I’ve changed a little,” she said.

“Different can be good. Different is good,” he said.

“Can we leave Gio? Go, leave this country? Carlo did. Kyra is gone too. Domi says Lorenzo is planning on leaving.”

“We can’t Bella. This is our home. No matter what.”

She nodded in sadness.

“How long? How long do I have?”

“Come here,” he held out his hand.

She walked over to the bed and he pulled her down on top of him. “I love you Bella. Thank you, for giving me the best of you.”

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