Page 98 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
“This is pretty fucking awesome,” Lorenzo says as we emerge from the tube, and I burst out laughing.
“Your vocabulary really expands in nature, doesn’t it?”
“I’m a simple man with simple pleasures.”
The drive back to our beach house is peaceful, windows down, trade winds replacing sulfur dioxide in our lungs. I sing along to the radio with my hand dangling outside, watching Lorenzo’s lips twitch with amusement at my off-key rendition of some pop song.
Our rental sits on a secluded stretch of black sand beach, the volcanic shore dotted with chunks of lava rock and backed by swaying palm trees. Dense tropical foliage and lava rock outcroppings create natural barriers on either side, ensuring complete privacy. It’s quintessentially Big Island. Dramatic and raw in a way that makes our Vegas pool parties seem tame by comparison. Perfect for a mafia don who values his privacy and his wife who likes to skinny-dip.
I shower off the volcanic dust and slip into a white sundress while Lorenzo makes his daily check-in call with Dario. The Bratva hasn’t made a move since the nightclub incident, but Lorenzo thinks they’re planning something big. The longer they stay quiet, the more worried he gets.
I step onto the back deck and breathe in the salt air. The sound of waves instantly mellows me out, like nature’s own anxiety medication. I don’t know how long I stand there soaking upthe afternoon sun, but I know the exact moment I’m no longer alone.
That feeling of being watched has become as familiar as my own heartbeat. And just like always, it sends heat pooling between my thighs.
Our stalking game has evolved since I found his secret stash. Now it’s a full contact sport. Lorenzo still takes his candid photos and watches his camera feeds, but when I catch him lurking in person? Game on.
Knowing we’re completely private here, I step onto the sand and pull my dress off in one smooth motion. I’m naked underneath because I’m not an amateur.
The ocean breeze kisses my bare skin, making my nipples peak and my pulse quicken. There’s something intoxicating about being nude outside, the thrill of potential exposure even when you know you’re safe. Wetness coats my inner thighs as I walk toward the water, hyperaware that Lorenzo is probably snapping pictures right now.
His collection has taken over one wall of our bedroom back home. Every time I see it, I feel cherished instead of creeped out. Probably says something about my mental state, but I’m past caring.
The water rolls over my feet as I wade in, toes sinking into wet sand. Sea birds cry overhead, and I’m smiling up at them when movement in my peripheral vision makes me look down.
Lorenzo stands in front of me wearing nothing but swim trunks, materializing like some kind of sexy ninja. My belly swoops, and I take an instinctive step back, giggling when his gaze locks onto the bounce of my breasts.
“You know,” he says, voice rough with want, “you ruin the fun of watching when you do this.”
“Do what?” I ask with exaggerated innocence.
“When you’re too damn tempting to stay away from.”
He steps into my space like he owns it, hands gripping my hips and hauling me against him until I feel his erection pressing into my stomach. Heat floods my system.
I stick out my bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’m sorry. But maybe I can think of something even more fun.”
That’s all the invitation he needs.
He lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me away from the water. His mouth claims mine in a kiss that tastes like salt air and possession, and I moan when my nipples drag against his chest.
We don’t make it far before he’s dropping to his knees on a towel he must have planted earlier. Always prepared, my husband. His lips trail from my mouth to my jaw to my neck, teeth nipping and marking as he goes.
I reach between us to free his cock from his trunks, stroking the hard length as I position him at my entrance. Gravity does the rest as I sink down onto him, both of us groaning at the perfect fit.
This position—him kneeling while I straddle him—leaves me helpless to control the pace. My legs are spread too wide, feet unable to find purchase in the shifting sand. But Lorenzo takes over, lifting and lowering me with a strength that makes my head spin.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he says, eyes locked on my face with an intensity that makes me feel like a goddess. “You glow in the sun. I can’t wait to add this picture to our collection.”
The thought of him photographing this moment, of having it displayed in our bedroom alongside all the others, sends me spiraling toward the edge.
“Harder,” I demand through gritted teeth. “Faster.”
With a growl, he flips us so I’m on my back, legs wrapped around his hips as he drives into me with the force I’m craving. My nails dig into his shoulders as pleasure builds to a breaking point.
When I come apart beneath him, it’s with his name on my lips and stars behind my eyelids. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep as he fills me with heat.
We lie tangled together afterward, breathing hard as waves crash nearby. When he finally moves off me, I stay sprawled on the towel, grinning at the blue sky like an idiot.
