Page 27 of Capo Dei Capi's Daughter

“I fucking love how you scream my name,” his thumb rubs over my clit, “Do it again.”

It didn’t seem possible, but he picks up his pace as his thumb rubs my over-sensitive clit. Dante grunts with each relentless thrust, every muscle in my legs trembling in his arms. He continues until my legs are violently shaking and I am screaming his name through my release.

He quickly pulls himself from me and thrusts his cock on top of me. A roar releases from his chest as I watch him come across my stomach. His body collapses on mine, syrup, sweat, and his cum smearing between our bodies as he nuzzles his face into my neck until both of our breathing has slowed.

Dante places a wet, gentle kiss on my lips before standing up and pulling our sticky bodies apart. We are both a complete mess.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he pulls his sweats back over his hips, lifts me from the table and carries me to the bathroom.

“I can walk,” I look up while gently pushing away from him.

“No,” he sets my feet on the bathroom floor and smirks as he immediately grabs my unsteady body, “you can’t.”

Ensuring he continues to hold me steady, he reaches around me and turns on the shower before removing his sweats. After checking the water, he grabs a washcloth and walks me into the shower where he places us both in the warm spray of the water. Once we are both rinsed off, he begins to delicately scrub the wet, soapy washcloth over my skin. He meticulously cleans every inch of me, removing all evidence of the sticky mess made in the kitchen before he washes himself and drops the washcloth to the floor of the shower.

Dante gingerly removes the elastic holding my messy bun in place, and my hair cascades down my back. Moving my head under the spray of the water, he wets my hair before using his fingertips to lather shampoo in it. Being careful not to get water in my face, he rinses it clean and repeats the process with conditioner. Ensuring I stay in the warm spray of the water, he quickly shampoos his own hair before turning off the water.

Stepping out of the shower into the chilly bathroom, he grabs a towel and wraps me in it, before grabbing one for himself.

“Are you okay to go get dressed,” he places a soft kiss on my lips, “or do you want me to help you?”

“I’m okay,” my eyes pan up to his, “I can do it by myself.”

Leaving the bathroom, I walk to the bedroom and shut the door the door behind me.

DANTE

Venecia has been lingering in the bedroom for quite a while. In the time that she has been in there, I have dressed and cleaned up most of the kitchen – both the dishes and our mess. Putting the syrup away, I’m pretty sure that I will never look at pancakes quite the same way again.

Or be able to eat them without getting hard.

As the door rattles shut on the refrigerator, I hear the bedroom door slowly creak open. A moment later, Venecia is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, with her eyes focused on the floor. Her eyes on the floor as I approach her. She only looks up when my hand cups her jaw.

“What’s wrong,cuore mio?”

Her eyes meet mine and she looks as though she is about to cry.

“Talk to me,” my words soft and urging, “tell me what is wrong.”

“I…,” her eyes break contact with mine, “I don’t…we can’t actually do this.”

“Do what?”

“This,” her hand bounces between our chests, “You know we shouldn’t. We both know they won’t let us. And it’s going to kill me to have to forget about this.”

Pulling her body against mine, my hands cup the sides of her face as I kiss her slow and deep. She is breathless and her lips are red when I pull back from her.

“It’s my job to risk my life for you,cuore mio. I risk it for money,” still holding her face as I stare deep into her blue eyes, “but I will happily give my life for the opportunity to have had your heart.”

“Dante…”

“We aren’t going to think about that now,” my hands grip her ass and pull her up around my waist. Kissing her, I walk us towards the couch. Holding onto her, when I sit, she straddles my lap.

“You are mine,” my fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “and when I take you home, I would rather die than not be able to touch you again.”

“You and I both know that might happen,” she whispers as her arms wrap around my neck as her head lays on my shoulder. My hands slide over her back and wrap equally as tight around her. We sit on the couch, holding each other, simply enjoying the comfort of each other’s touch.

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