Page 12 of Tormented Diamonds
But it’s not enough. I need to be her entire center of gravity.
Sliding my hands under her ass, I lift her off the table and slam her against the wall. Filthy words spill from my mouth as my pace turns maniacal, my vicious grunts entwining with her high-pitched moans.
“Gianni,” she gasps, her heels digging into my back as I bottom out. “What’s gotten into you?”
“You,beloved,” I force out between clenched teeth. “You wanted to see the man behind the mask. Well, here he is. Still want to save him?”
“I let the Devil inside to love him, not save him.”
I freeze, searching her face for a smirk or any hint of sarcasm. But I find neither, only honesty and raw vulnerability.
Fuck.She loves me.
This beautiful, intelligent, trusting, reckless woman loves me.
God help us both.
I thrust into her, barely giving her a chance to breathe before falling into a ruthless rhythm that has Becca sinking her nails into my shoulder with an ear-piercing shriek. Her walls clamp hard around my cock, and she shatters around me, detonating a bomb. Throwing my head back, I let out a guttural roar and come hard inside her.
Silence descends, invaded only by our ragged breathing. Instead of setting her on her feet, I step away from the wall while still inside her and head toward the open door.
Becca swivels her head over her shoulder, then back around. “Where are we going?”
“To our bedroom. I’m spending the night taking my wife until she can’t remember her name.”
“Gianni, you could fuck me into the next lifetime,and I wouldn’t forget.”
I pause in the hallway, not giving a shit we’re both half naked. “Then say it.”
She gives me that tight-lipped, narrowed-eyed stare that drove me crazy for eight weeks. “Becca Brennan … Marchesi.”
“Say it again.”
A small smile curves her lips. “Make me.”
“Mrs. Marchesi,” Itsk, “haven’t you burned those pretty little fingers enough for one night?”
“Haven’t you heard?” she says, licking her lips. “Phoenixes love to burn.”
“Devil woman,” I groan, kicking the door open to our room and tossing her on the bed.
The look she gives me could melt steel. “Devilwife.”
Removing what remains of our clothing, I enter her slowly, taking my time and savoring every inch. This marriage may have started out contractual, but now that we’ve consummated it, Becca is mine for better or worse, and only death can separate us.
I promised in that hospital room I’d burn the world to protect her.
And like Johnny Malone … I always keep my promises.
Chapter Five
BECCA
One Week Later
Mafia funerals are strange. They’re also loud, uncomfortable, and excessive, like a giant business meeting on steroids.
To be fair, I’ve only attended one funeral. I was twelve, and it was my mother’s. The main thing I remember is the sickening stench of white lilies. They spilled from all four corners of the church, invading every breath I took. All around me, mourners wept, while I glared at the tacky arrangement draped over her casket, thinking how much she would’ve hated it.
