Bound By Blood Anthology (The Camorra Chronicles 7.50)

I moaned. Matteo’s mouth took mine as he kept rubbing. I rocked against him desperately, seeking friction that the smooth metal hardly provided, and yet the thrill of the forbidden, the wrong of it, drove me higher and higher, and finally I came all over the knife, crying out my release.

Matteo watched me, breathing raggedly. Slowly he pulled his knife out and held it up between us. It was coated with my juices. Matteo pressed the button that made the blade shoot out and even that was slick. Holding my gaze, Matteo ran his tongue along the blade, and I almost came again. I gripped his hand and brought the knife to my own mouth. Matteo angled it so the sharp edge was facing away and then I slowly licked over the smooth metal, tasting myself on the deadly weapon.

“This is so much better than blood,” he rasped.

Damn it all, I wanted this man so much. I fell to my knees before him and ripped at his buttons and zipper, then pulled down his boxers until his cock sprang out. Hard and leaking, and fuck, even that piece of Matteo was pretty. Sometimes I really hated him.

I licked over the tip, then took him into my mouth. Matteo moaned and rocked his hips as I sucked him. My eyes kept drifting to the deadly knife clutched in his hand at his side and the sight aroused me in a twisted way.

Matteo jerked back. “Enough.”

He pulled me to my feet and pushed me toward the kitchen and bent me over the kitchen island. He tugged my pants down, then pushed two fingers into me. I threw my head back, arching at the delicious sensation.

I huffed in protest when he pulled out.

He clapped my butt hard. I jerked more in surprise than pain. “Next time you give me my knife when I tell you to.”

I threw an indignant look over my shoulder. “You—“

My insult died in a cry when Matteo slammed into me. He leaned over me. “I’m going to fuck you now, Mrs. Vitiello.”

And good Lord, he did. My hips banged against the marble as he slammed into me over and over again, his balls slapping against my ass. I clutched the edge of the island, needing something to hold on to. Matteo’s grip on my hips was bruising. My core clenched, and I screamed out my release, almost passing out from the force of it. Matteo followed shortly after, and then I lay in a boneless heap over the marble counter, breathing harshly. Matteo kissed my cheek.

“I hated seeing that bastard put his hand on your ass,” Matteo murmured.

“I know,” I said. “I just wish not every other of our dance nights would end with you in trouble.”

“I like trouble, which is why I like you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like?”

“Fishing for compliments?”

I jerked my ass back and clenched around his cock. He hissed then chuckled. “All right, babe, I love you.”

I sighed, hardly mollified, considering he’d called me by the name I hated the most.

“I’m never going to clean my knife again.” He nuzzled my neck.

“Just don’t cum in your pants next time you stab someone.”

“Hmm. That’s going to be hard knowing I’m cutting someone down with your pussy juice on my knife.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe I was as twisted as Matteo. We really were a perfect pair.

Gianna

For a long time, I stared down at the pregnancy test, unable to trust my eyes. We were supposed to leave for the Hamptons in exactly two hours but I wasn’t sure I could move. I’d done the test out of paranoia. I was only one day overdue, nothing to get worried about, but I had a stash of tests in the bathroom.

“Gianna?” Matteo called.

I swallowed, my fingers on the test tightening further. “I’m here.” I didn’t recognize my voice. It was weak and stunned.

I hadn’t taken the pill in over a year because it wreaked havoc with my body but I’d used a pessary or condoms. Over the year we’d been too horny for contraception about a handful of times but my OB/GYN had told me that my chances of getting pregnant naturally were minimal. I’d been relieved back then. It had seemed like a sign that my body was as against having kids as my brain.

Minimal chances.

Still the second line on my pregnancy test mocked me with its intensity.

Matteo pushed the door open and found me sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

“Why are you hiding in here?” he asked as he stepped in, then his eyes settled on the test in my hand and he froze.

“Gianna?”

I met his gaze. “I’m pregnant.”

Matteo searched my eyes. His expression didn’t give anything away as if he was waiting for my reaction. “You’re not happy.”

“Of course, I’m not,” I whispered harshly. “We don’t want children.” I paused because Matteo actually didn’t look unhappy. “Or do you?”