Mafia Casanova

“Ah! I’m going to come…”

Desperately and deliberately, I wanted to literally fuck her out of the depths of my soul.

“Open your eyes. Look at me,” I demanded.

“No.”

I mercilessly pounded into her, harder and faster. My balls drenched from her wetness. The slapping sound of our skin-on-skin contact echoed in the suite.

“This what you wanted, Eden? Me to fuck you? Huh? Answer me!” I seethed, slapping her ass.

“I’m going to come…”

“Open your eyes while you come on my cock.”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake. Look at me!”

She closed her eyes tighter.

“Eden, look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t say goodbye to you.”

I slammed into her, using her hips as leverage. Making her keep up with my vigorous pace. Never once letting up on my ruthless thrusts.

“You’re going to have to, baby. This ends tonight. Now, look at me.”

“Romeo, I’m going to come…” she breathlessly panted, fighting back my truths and tears. She cried out, squeezing her thighs with her release. Clamping down on my dick.

A growl escaped from deep within my chest, taking me right along with her. Our bodies went lax. Our thoughts running marathons, mimicking our fuck session that happened out of pure anger and desperation to feel some sort of connection.

Both of us fully aware this truly was the end of our torrid love affair.

I reveled in the brief feeling of her in my arms, knowing I fucked up. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have kissed her. I shouldn’t have taken her like she was mine to begin with. She was my brother’s, and I would forever remember this moment for the rest of my life. This was where I really let her go.

“Red, please look at me.”

She slowly lifted her gaze.

Tears already swelling her big blue eyes.

I needed to kill her in order to live without her.

So I said the very thing I knew would do exactly that. I lied. “I don’t really love you. I only came here to fuck you.”

She froze, and I stared profoundly into her solemn gaze.

Finally ending us once and for all, I hurt her for the last time…

“Now go marry my brother.”CHAPTER EIGHT“Your enemies always get strong on what you leave behind.” —Michael Corleone

Eden

NowI remembered nothing about the limo ride back to the house—our house. The one that Tristian purchased right after our wedding.

A gift, he’d said.

For his perfect wife.

I’d kissed him then, purifying my lips with his, expelling the lies of the week before when I took my vows in front of God and Family.

Romeo reached for my hand again, helping me out of the limo. I took it out of necessity, out of fear that I would collapse again, and I refused to let my son see weakness when he needed me to be his strength.

Already the house was crawling with associates, family members, policemen, politicians; the list was agonizingly long, and I knew by the end of the day I’d be worthless, emotionally and physically exhausted by doing my dutiful job as the accountant’s widow.

“Mama!” The front door flew open as Naz sped toward me, his white shirt untucked from his black trousers. Already, he was barefoot. His pitch-black hair was a tousled mess like he’d been running his hands through it. A habit he’d learned from his dad.

I jerked away from Romeo, dropping his hand, and opened my arms as Naz jumped into them.

“I missed you.” He sniffled. “But Nana said I had to go back.”

“I’m here now.” I kissed the top of his head, willing the tears to stay in. “Give me a few minutes to freshen up, and then we’ll get you a snack. Sound good?”

“They have cakes.” His whisper was almost louder than his regular voice bringing a smile to my face. “Don’t tell Nana, but I licked the frosting off the chocolate one.”

“Scout’s honor.” I grinned and stood.

He reached for my hand and then reached for Romeo’s. “I feel sad, Mama.”

His daddy was gone.

And he’d worshipped him.

Called him his best friend.

My heart couldn’t take it.

My chest felt like it was going to break in half, only to do it on an endless cycle until the day I died.

“Go freshen up. I’ll take care of him.” Romeo grinned down at Naz. “You still like extra sweet sandwiches?”

“Super-duper a million sweet!” Naz flashed his toothy grin as we made it through the front door and into the foyer.

“Go,” Romeo urged.

I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I’d crack. Again. Romeo was everything Tristian wasn’t. And they’d both known it.

Things had shifted that night.

And then after the wedding.

It might have been my wedding day.

But it might as well have been Romeo’s funeral.

“He’s been coloring a lot.” I changed the subject. “If he’s hungry, just get him one of the sandwiches from catering, and his coloring crayons are—”

“Eden,” Romeo interrupted me. “I’ll take care of it, just…” He didn’t have to say it.