Page 46 of Capo Dei Capi's Daughter

“Fuck,” he groans with a hint of a smile, “This isn’t the worst of it?”

After peppering soft kisses on his lips, I continue to fill him in on the things that happened while he was sleeping, “It took a bit for all of us to cool off, but I talked with Papa and Renzo last night. We can all be a little hot-headed and overreact sometimes.”

I cannot help but snicker at the all-knowing face Dante makes back at me.

“I’m sorry,” I squeeze his hand fighting back the urge to laugh inappropriately, “Things aren’t good, but they’re better.”

“You mean no one is going to try to kill me when I leave this room?”

“Yeah,” I smile back at him, “Renzo realizes that he fucked up and took things too far without actually knowing what was going on.”

“Papa is still pretty hot that you had the nerve to deflower his precious little princess,” I roll my eyes, “and he might take a little longer to fully come around, but he’s working on it.”

Sitting up on the bed, I gingerly climb over Dante and stand up on his side of the bed.

“I’m not saying things aren’t going to be awkward as hell when you walk downstairs,” I smile at him and reach my hands out to him, “but at least no one is going to try to kill you. I think. Now can we get you showered up because you kind of stink.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

DANTE

Venecia leads me to the bathroom and turns on the shower. Looking in the mirror as she steps behind me, I am met with my bruised face. I look like a man that went toe-to-toe with Lorenzo Botticelli.

“This might hurt a little,” she picks at the surgical tape holding the bandages on my back to remove them.

A small hiss blows over my lips when part of the bandage sticks to the wound. In response, Venecia seethes, “That fucking asshole.”

Turning my body to look at my back in the mirror, the Botticelli name spans the width of my shoulders and stands about five inches high.

“It hurt like fucking hell,” I look back her, “but that’s going to be sexy as fuck when it heals.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Absolutely nothing,” I pull her into the shower.

“Are you sure aren’t still high?”

“You are all a crazy bunch of motherfuckers,” my hands pull her body flush against mine, “but I am proud to be branded as a Botticelli.”

“You are still high,” she smiles back and kisses me.

“And being one of the only men to survive your brother in the basement is going to give me one hell of a reputation.”

“You’re welcome for that,” she smiles smugly.

“Have I mentioned yet how fucking hot you were down there? If I weren’t in so much pain, I would’ve been hard as fucking hell for you,” I pull her against my hard cock, “but now that I’m feeling better.”

Gripping her face in my hands, I pull her up to my face before kissing her hard and deep. With every entanglement of my tongue with hers, it is apparent that I am kissing her as though I truly thought I would never get to kiss her again.

I cannot get enough of her. I need it. Need to prove to myself that I am still here with her.

Wincing slightly as I kneel to the shower floor before her, my hands slide down her body and stop on her stomach. Looking up at her, she smiles down at me and nods her head as though she knows I was questioning if that moment was real.

Kissing her stomach, I pull her leg over my shoulder and slide my tongue through her slit. Her hands grip my hair and pull me towards her.

VENECIA

His tongue licks over my clit and need more of him. I need to feel him again. I need him to relentlessly claim me.

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