Page 519 of Rosetti Family New York
He takes me apart slowly in the backseat of that racing sedan, working around his injuries and the tight space. Every thrust is deliberate, angled to hit deep inside me while his thumb works my clit in steady circles, though I can see the effort each movement takes.
The leather seats stick to my skin as I strain against the improvised restraints, the confined space making every sensation more intense. His cock fills me completely, stretching me in ways that blur the line between pleasure and pain, his breathing harsh against my throat.
His rhythm becomes erratic, desperate, chasing the same release I feel coiling tight in my belly. When he reaches between us to pinch my clit, the sharp sensation sends me flying over the edge again.
My second orgasm hits harder than the first, my pussy milking his cock as I scream his name. The sound of my pleasure pushes him over, and he buries himself deep as he comes, filling me with hot spurts of cum that mark me as thoroughly as any collar, his body shuddering with the release and exhaustion.
"Fuck, sunshine," he pants against my neck, both of us shaking with the intensity, his weight heavy against me as his adrenaline finally crashes. "That's it. Take all of it."
We stay joined as long as possible, neither willing to break the connection, his breathing slowly steadying as he recovers. When he finally pulls out, I feel his cum leak down my thighs. He gently removes my restraints, massaging circulation back into my wrists with tender care.
"You broke your rule," I say softly, referring to his insistence on proper beds and safety.
"You make me break all my rules," he admits, helping me straighten my clothes as the car slows, his movements slowernow as his body remembers its injuries. "Worth it, though. You're always worth it."
When we arrive at his apartment building, I know the truth about myself. Being Carmela Rosetti isn't a cage to escape but a weapon to wield for the man I love.
29 - Van
Three days of nightmares. Three hours of peaceful sleep beside her. The math is simple, but the miracle isn't. I study Carmela's sleeping face in the dawn light filtering through my apartment windows, still processing that for the first time since my rescue yesterday, I managed more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep.
No imagined rope burns jolting me awake. No cold sweats. Just peaceful sleep with her warm body curled against mine, her soft breathing keeping time with my heartbeat.
She didn't just save me—she's remaking me.
My phone buzzes. Marco's name appears on the screen.
"Van." I keep my voice low, glancing at Carmela's sleeping form.
"It's done." Marco's voice carries dark satisfaction. "All Torrino assets have been permanently eliminated. Every threat to our family, every connection to their organization. Chicago is clean."
"The scope," I say carefully. "How extensive?"
"Extensive enough to require permanent solutions." Each word lands with lethal precision. "Lucia Torrino developed sudden terminal illness. Giovanni's heart condition proved fatal. Peter disappeared during business dispute. Clean, efficient, no complications." He pauses. "You were unconscious for most ofyour rescue, but this was always the plan once they took you. No one threatens family."
The casual mention of my unconscious state clicks pieces into place. I remember fragments—Marco's voice, movement, pain—but the full scope of the operation was beyond my awareness.
"Thank you."
"The briefing is simple—they never existed."
Problem solved. Threats eliminated.
After ending the call, I study her peaceful face in the morning light. The custom collar I had made before everything went to hell sits in my jacket pocket. Italian leather, hand-stitched, her name engraved in silver. Not a traditional ring, but something that honors what we've built together.
My hands shake as I touch the velvet box. Not from trauma this time. From fear she might say no.
Two days ago, I thought I might never see her again. Now I can't imagine breathing without her.
Carmela stirs beside me, green eyes opening slowly before focusing on my face. Her smile is immediate, no grogginess or confusion, just pure daylight directed at me.
"Good morning." She stretches like a cat. "You look different."
"Different how?"
"Peaceful. Like you actually slept." She sits up, studying my expression. "Van…"
"Yes, princess?"
