Bound By Love (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 6)

I nodded, and took another sip of champagne.

“Did your father ever raise your hand against you after our engagement?” Luca whispered darkly.

I hesitated.

That was all the answer Luca needed, and he went rigid. “I warned him not to lay a hand on you.”

I touched his forearm. “That’s the past, Luca. Don’t let it ruin the present.” I could tell he was reluctant to let it go, and I decided to follow my own advice. I emptied my glass, set it down, then untangled myself from Luca’s hold and stood. I pulled my dress over my head and dropped it to the sand beside Luca, who watched me with eagerness. The only light left came from the spotlights of our yacht and the small solar lamp Luca had set up on the blanket. The breeze caught my hair and whipped it around as I smiled down at Luca. He rose to his feet and stripped out of his own clothes, and a shiver of arousal passed my back at the sight of his nudity. He stepped close and bowed down for a kiss. My hands roamed over his chest and ripped stomach as his own traveled down my back and cupped my ass. Soon my need to feel Luca inside of me drowned out all else as he worked me with strong, experienced fingers. His length dug insistently into my stomach. I stepped back, breathless, catching my breath before I said: “I want to try the position again.”

Luca nodded, but I could tell he was apprehensive as we settled on the blanket. I turned my back to him then got down on my knees and hands. My stomach twisted with nerves. For some reason, I worried this position more than any other would make Luca compare me to his previous lovers. I had seen how he had fucked Grace, how hard she’d let him take her, how unbridled Luca had been. My body still sometimes clamped up when I didn’t want it to, and new positions sometimes brought me discomfort.

Luca stroked my back, the gesture so reverent that I relaxed under his touch. He pressed up to me but didn’t enter. Instead he reached around and began stroking me. I moaned and eased back a bit so Luca’s tip slid in. He released a low breath before he worked his way deeper and when he filled me completely, I realized why he favored the position. He was deeper than ever before, and I had to breathe slowly through the new sensation. I felt too stretched. Luca gripped my hips and withdrew slowly before he moved back in at the same pace. He found a slow, gentle rhythm, and step by step my body grew accustomed to this angle. Luca didn’t speed up, and despite the twinge it caused, I moved my hips faster to meet his thrusts and show him he didn’t need to hold back. Yet his fingers on my waist tightened, restraining me. “No, love,” he growled. “You are still tense around me.”

“I don’t care,” I got out. “You can move faster.”

Luca leaned forward, sliding even deeper, and I sucked in my breath as he pressed his chest against my back. “No, I can’t. Not without hurting you.”

“I want you to find pleasure.”

“I don’t take pleasure in causing you pain, believe me,” he said in a gravelly voice. “We have all our lives to try every position. Don’t pressure yourself because you think you need to live up to certain expectations, because you exceed them all where I am concerned.”

He pulled out of me. My huff of protest died when Luca turned me around and lifted me on his lap. “Ride me. I want to look at your face.”

Searching his eyes, I found he meant it and I smiled as I lowered myself on his length. Our gazes locked as I rocked my hips, and pleasure soared through my core, and even as the tension built up to impossible levels, I rode Luca at a slow pace. His pants deepened as he clung to my waist, and then my orgasm rippled over me, and Luca tensed under me, head falling back as he came inside of me. I pressed a kiss to his throat, feeling his pounding pulse against my lips. I bit down lightly and Luca’s cock jerked in me as he growled. I smiled against his skin. Mine.Our days on the yacht passed too quickly and when we left the yacht in Palermo’s harbor on our last day, I felt a sense of wistfulness.

Luca seemed to pick up on it. “We will be back next spring, I promise.”

I gave him a grateful smile.

We still had to go through with a visit to Luca’s great-uncle before we could return to New York, and I could see Luca’s demeanor shift as we got into Alessandro’s car—he’d picked us up at the harbor. Luca was back to being Capo, back to being vigilant. There was nothing soft or gentle about his expression now. Sometimes when I saw the looks he gave others I was reminded of my own fears of the past, and felt immense relief that they were just that: memories.