Owned by the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family 3)

“No, but you didn’t shut her down. Get off me, you jerk.” It’s killing me that she’s fucking crying because no woman has ever gained my interest unless it has to do with business.

“How the fuck could I shut her down if I didn’t even notice?” She stops, closing her mouth as she searches for another fucking comeback. I reach under her dress and test her pussy. Sliding my fingers over her wet slit, I stare into her eyes. “I love you, Ivy. I have from the first second. I saved myself for you; if that doesn’t tell you there’s no one else, I don’t know how to prove it other than to keep my dick buried in this sweet heat.”

Freeing my cock from my khakis, I slam deep into her cunt. “You’re my wife, my one and only. I don’t care how many times I have to tell you, but don’t ever doubt that you own me, too. Fucking body and soul.” She moans, gripping my shoulders. Three years of marriage, and this woman doesn’t understand I’ll do anything for her. Our son and this little one growing in of her are my world.

Gripping her hair, she draws out a long gasp before I take a possessive kiss, tongue slowly fucking her mouth while my dick steadily pounds her mons. “I’m sorry, Niccolò. I love you too. So much it scares me.”

“Losing you scares me all the time, but I’m not letting you ever walk away. Understand?” I slam my cock in and out.

“Yes,” she cries out, clinging to me. She might have been mad at me, but her pussy loved her spanking too much. Her walls close around my shaft, milking my seed as she screams her release. She doesn’t let go, even though I’m trying to keep my weight off her.

“Nico, the baby is the size of a pea right now. I’m fine. I need to feel you surround me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, but you can lie on top of me.” I spin us around and let her rest on me.

“Always so insistent.”

“That’s because you’re the most important person in my world. I love our babies, but without you, they wouldn’t be here.” We kiss and make love again under the stars.

****

After we wake up, I give my brother a call to check on our son. “How is he?”

“Good. Nic, come say hello to your papa.”

“Papa, Papa. Where’s Mama?”

“She’s still sleeping, but she misses you. We are coming home tomorrow night. Are you being a good boy?”

“Yes, Papa. I write my name.” He’s only two and can’t spell yet, but the kid is pretty bright. Maybe he traced it on a paper or something, or it’s probably some scribbles. I love all the drawings he makes me even if I can’t tell what it’s supposed to be.

“Good. I can’t wait to see it.”

“Yeah, on my walls,” Domani scoffs.

“Then I really can’t wait to see it.”

“Zia cleaned it off.”

“I took a picture for you, though. What did she say, Nic?”

“No colors on the wall, but Zia paints on the wall,” he argues his case.

“We do what we’re told.”

“I no like it,” he says.

“He left the room. Damn—that little Nic, he’s going to be trouble. More like me I think, brother, but it’s only fair because Luca is so much like you.”

“True. Although I hope he understands women better.”

“Oh no. What happened?” I explain the entire fight with Ivy about the stupid woman at the restaurant to him, and he laughs with a full-blown belly laugh. Prick.

“Did he tell you he called all us Bianchi women crazy?” Ivy asks, coming into the room.

“Well, he’s not wrong. You women are all crazy.”

“What the hell, Domani? You make us that way. I wasn’t crazy before I met you.”

“See? That’s what I told Niccolò.”

“Common denominator, Niccolò. You should know that. Now that you’re being a butthead, I’m going to give Nic his own paint set for Christmas,” Aria says.

Ivy laughs.

“It’s only fair that you give him lessons as well,” I add. I’m not bothered as long as my boy loves what he does and finds someone who puts up with his quirks, even if he doesn’t understand women. I pull Ivy onto my lap. “We’d love to chat longer, but I want to enjoy the last day of burying my head…”

“Hey,” Ivy says, slapping my chest.

“Have fun, you two.” Dom ends the call, and I carry Ivy back to bed to finish what we started before we head home. Life can’t get any better than this.

Niccolò

Twenty years

It’s our twenty-year anniversary today and I plan to spoil my lovely wife. Ivy’s still the queen of my world, and my permanent distraction. She pulls me out of my numbers, and I never mind. Her long black hair has started to add cool gray streaks, matching the ones I have at my temples. She still runs the café, but she has loosened the reins on the day-to-day operations, so that she has time for the kids.