He had to explain what frittole was, and it sounded like a beignet. He said it was something you get in Venice around a festival and I’d laughed. I’d always thought his favorite food would be something like steak, but it was basically a donut.
It was sweet—he was being sweet—but we couldn’t stay here forever. Reality was outside the walls. I’d run away from Lucia, he’d killed his top men. What did that mean for us? Were we out of mafia life, were we on the run? I voiced my concerns.
“There is no one left alive to tell the story of what happened,” he said. “We could go back, but the longer we stay, the more likely it is Lucia will gain footing.”
“Go back together?” The idea was terrifying, but at the same time, it called to something deep inside me. To be by Anteros’s side, ruling this dark underworld, felt right.
“Or we could leave,” Anteros said, continuing to draw on my back.
“The only place I’ve traveled to outside of New York and Jersey is Maine, but I was too young to remember. The first time I went on a plane was with you.”
“Mio cuore,” Anteros said with such sincerity that he captured my stare and stole my breath away, “I will show you the world.” I kept thinking I would get used to his eyes, but each time I tumbled and lost myself in his bluegreen gaze. It was alluring and intoxicating, like absinthe.
“Where would we go?” I asked, remembering to breathe.
“The places on your list.”
“I can’t believe you remember that,” I mused.
“I remember everything about you Frankie.” He stopped his ministrations and gave me another look that tore the air from my lungs before returning to drawing on my back. “We’d start wherever you want, not stopping until we’d seen everything. Then we’d go to the places you couldn’t dream of. We wouldn’t be finished until you’d seen it all, tasted it all, had it all,” he continued as his finger caressed a slow, leisurely line down my spine until it was at the dip of my back, just above my ass. “If you were never satisfied, we’d go until your feet were bloody and then I’d carry you until mine were.”
I smiled, dropping my head to stare at the little furs of the rug. I liked the sound of that. “What then?”
“I’d get someone to carry us.”
“That sounds just like a fairytale.” My voice faltered as his finger teased lower. It sounded like a fairytale, but not our fairytale. Once upon a time, I’d taped pictures on my wall. I would stare at the bright wrinkly colors, at all the famous monuments, wishing for an adventure, wishing for someone to rip the mask off. Then Anteros had kicked down my door.
I remembered the way he’d spoken to me when he’d climbed through my window at Lucia’s, the words that gave me shivers, words that ignited a need so deep I was sure it was rooted in my very soul.
Be my queen.
Suddenly Anteros’s finger was gone, his entire hand now on my ass, gripping, squeezing, dragging nails across the flesh. I sucked in my breath, vision going blurry. His other hand ghosted along my shoulders, resting at the base of my neck. He dug into my skin, pulling my head back until I was arched painfully and staring into his probing bluegreen eyes.
“Tell me what just went through your mind.”
“Nothing,” I gasped. The grip on my ass squeezed painfully and I yelped. At the same time, he thrust his tongue into my mouth. He kept me painfully arched, bending backward in an unnatural curve as he assaulted my mouth.
“You’re fucking lying,” he growled, jerking my head so his lips were against my ear. “You lied this morning, too. Why are you still lying?”
Because I’m still afraid.
I tried to breathe but the air got caught on my heartbeat. It was jumping too erratically and Anteros was watching me too intensely. He parted my ass, stroked me, so close to pushing inside.
On instinct, my legs parted. I should have been resting, but it felt too good. I wanted him to fill me in every way possible. The last time we’d done anything like this I’d been scared and ran from him.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, pushing a finger inside my ass.
“I’d miss it!” I gasped.
“What would you miss?” he pressed. I couldn’t say it, even as his finger filled me. I couldn’t admit how I would miss the blood. The danger. All of it. The mask had slipped, but I wasn’t ready to look at the person beneath.
“Be a good girl,” he said as another finger joined the first, curling. “Fucking say it.” His fingers slowly pumped in and out of my ass and my head fell to the ground. I groaned, mouth filling with fur. I threw an arm over my back, searching for his cock. My hand met his soft yet iron-hard flesh and I pumped in rhythm with his thrusts.
“Answer me,” Anteros warned. He bit on my neck, so hard I swore he drew red.
“Aah!” I cried out. “The blood.”
“You’d miss the blood?” he asked, ruthless assault turning to soft caresses as he kissed the wound he’d just recently stitched. I nodded, turning on the fur so I could see his face.