“Do you take the pill?” I asked. It wasn’t the most romantic thing to say in a situation like this, but before today, I couldn’t bring myself to ask my teenage wife that question.
A quick nod.
I climbed on top of her and guided my cock to her opening, but she shrank back. I wanted to roar in frustration. “Giulia,” I said imploringly.
“Can you hold me?”
My heart skipped a fucking beat. I nodded and lowered myself to my elbows then wedged one arm under my wife’s shoulder blades and hugged her to my chest. “Like this?” I murmured.
Her face was inches from mine, and she looked up at me, seeking my help, my protection, my closeness. I kissed the corner of her mouth then her lower and upper lip as I shifted my hips so my tip nudged her entrance. She held her breath. I stroked her bangs from her sweaty forehead.
“Breathe out.”
She did, and I pushed into her about an inch.
Her face flashed with discomfort, and she gripped my bicep.
“If it’s too much, you tell me, and we’ll figure something out,” I heard myself say, and I wanted to kick myself, but she gave me a grateful small smile, and I could feel her walls loosen very slightly. Slowly, I slid deeper into her, even when she squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled. She got very tight, and I knew this part would hurt the most. Kissing her temple, I thrust forward and slid all the way in. She flinched under me and gasped, her breathing ragged.
I shuddered out a breath, trying to stay still, and pretty sure her walls were going to milk my cock any second now. Fuck, she was tight. “Giulia? How are you?”
She looked at me. “Okay,” she said shakily. “It’s strange… feeling you inside of me. Really full.”
I smiled at her analysis.
“I’m talking nonsense, aren’t I?”
I shook my head and stroked her cheek then began to move, small shallow thrusts which grew gradually harder. She tensed every time, but she didn’t cry, didn’t whimper or sob, and I was grateful for that. It didn’t take long for me to reach my tipping point, and I didn’t bother holding back, knowing she’d be glad when it was over.
My body tightened, my balls expanding, and then I shot my cum into her. She sucked in her breath, and I stilled above her. Then I pressed my forehead into the pillow beside her head. She was very still under me, and I listened for a sob, crying, and again relief filled me when I heard neither. I pulled out very slowly and rolled off her but stayed close. She turned on her side, facing me.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I searched her flushed face. “What for?” It couldn’t be for giving her an orgasm because I definitely hadn’t, but I would soon. Many of them.
“For being patient and careful.”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Gaia had enjoyed playing the guilt card, had cried often to make me feel bad even when I’d tried to do everything to be decent.
“Women talk. Some men don’t because it gives them a feeling of dominance, others because they enjoy hurting, and some just want to make sure the blood stain is big so they can impress…”
Surprise filled me at her words. She sounded less like a girl then. “I don’t need to show my dominance by hurting you during sex. I’m Underboss, I rule over people on a daily basis. And while I enjoy hurting when it’s called for, I don’t enjoy hurting women or children. As for the last reason, maybe some men think a big blood stain makes the audience believe they have a huge dick, when in truth it only shows that they have no clue how to work that dick.”
Giulia laughed. Then her smile became teasing. “Do you?”
A low laugh rumbled in my chest. “Know how to work my dick?”
She blushed but nodded.
“I think I do. I know today wasn’t pleasurable for you, but soon it will be.”
She tilted her head in consideration. “Okay.”
I glanced down the length of me. My cock was smeared with blood. I sat up then held out my hand to Giulia. “Can you sit up for a moment?”
With a small frown, she did. “Why?” Then her eyes widened and her gaze darted down her body. “Oh.”
“Just wait a couple of seconds.”
Her nose wrinkled. “That’s kind of disgusting.”
“I know. But it’s tradition.” I brushed her hair from her face again, and Giulia regarded me curiously. Her eyes were a startling blue like a clear summer sky and her nose had the slightest upward tip, which gave her a coy look.
“Do you find me pretty?” she asked, drawing in that plump lower lip between her teeth.
“Yes, I do.” My thumb stroked along the back of her hand—which I hadn’t even realized I was still holding.
“Oh,” she said. “I wasn’t sure. You didn’t act as if you cared much.”
It was a good thing that I’d perfected my poker face over the years and a necessary evil in my line of work. “I did and do find you very attractive.”
“Hmm. Usually I’m good at telling those things. Most men are really obvious about their interest. They get that intense look as if they want to devour you.”
Something angry and dark curled in my chest. “Did it happen often… that men looked at you like that? As if they wanted to devour you?” Despite my best intention, my voice held an edge it hadn’t before.
Giulia tilted her head, considering me in that quiet way of hers. “Occasionally. Sometimes men who visited my father, sometimes strangers when I was out with my bodyguards. It’s not like anyone ever approached me.”
“Good,” I growled.
Her eyebrows darted up. “Are you jealous?”
“Possessive. I don’t share well. Or at all.”
She laughed.
“That’s funny to you? I’m dead serious.”
She rolled her eyes. Rolled. Her. Eyes. I couldn’t even remember the last time someone had dared roll their eyes at me.
“You get jealous over men watching me from afar, knowing full well that you gave me my first kiss in church today? You never had to share me, nor will you.”
“Have you ever given a man that look?” I questioned.
“No,” she said without hesitation.
“A sheltered upbringing doesn’t make you blind.”
She pursed her lips. “I never looked at men long enough to make up my mind about them. It didn’t seem wise, considering I wasn’t going to be the one choosing my husband.”
That was true. She had no say in the matter.
Giulia
Cassio swung his legs out of bed. “I’m going to clean up.”
My eyes raked over his muscled body, mesmerized by the hard planes, the ridges of his six-pack, and the narrow V of his hips. I was attracted to his body, which was a relief. My gaze dipped even lower, and the blood on his penis drove heat into my head. I looked away. I had been staring too long anyway. Looking down at myself, I cringed at the sight of my smeared inner thighs—a disgusting mix of blood and sperm. I slid out of bed, taking in the mess on the linens A small mortified sound slipped out of me.
“Are you all right?” Cassio rumbled somewhere behind me.
I turned, grimacing. “Do we really have to show these sheets?”
“That was the point of us sleeping together.”
Ouch. “So, you only slept with me because of the presentation of the sheets?”
Now that we were married, I wanted Cassio to be attracted to me. It seemed a horrible fate to spend your life with someone who couldn’t bear touching you. I definitely enjoyed the sight of his body. His touch was still unfamiliar and sex had been painful, but it hadn’t been the ordeal my mother and a few of my aunts had made it out to be. I could imagine enjoying it very much, especially Cassio’s mouth between my legs.
Cassio regarded me strangely, as if I was an unknown creature. Then he shook his head with a chuckle. “I’m a man.”
I headed toward him, also in need of a shower. I felt sticky and sore between my legs. “Is that a reply?” I asked curiously.
Cassio stepped into the bathroom, and I followed him. His eyes traveled over my body, sending an unfamiliar shiver down my back. Now that he’d seen me naked, I didn’t really see the point in covering myself, and he didn’t look as if he minded. Quite the contrary.
I picked up my pace when I felt something trickling out of me and practically leaped inside the shower. Sighing, I relaxed, glad to have avoided a mess.
“You can shower first,” Cassio said.
“We can shower together.” I flushed. “I mean, why waste water? There’s enough room for both of us.”
The corners of Cassio’s mouth twitched. “Save water, right?” He stepped into the shower. With him inside, there wasn’t as much room as I’d thought, and suddenly the realization set in that despite what had happened, we were still very much strangers. I focused on the shower gel, trying to ignore Cassio’s presence as I soaped up my body. It was impossible. Cassio was everywhere. His heat singed my back. His manly scent still clung to me, overpowering the shower gel.
He didn’t say anything, only cleaned himself. From the corner of my eye, I saw him rub his cock clean of my blood. Soon the water at our feet was a soft pink. As I cleaned myself between my legs, I winced at how tender and sore I felt.
“It should be better in a couple of days,” he said.
I turned halfway so I could look at his face but wouldn’t bump into him—which didn’t even make sense considering we’d been much closer only a few minutes before. “That long? I thought I’d be fine tomorrow.”
The shadow of the past crossed his face, his ocean eyes becoming tumultuous. What had happened between his wife and him? “We’ll see,” was all he said, and then he turned off the water. He reached for a towel and handed it to me before he gripped one for himself. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself.
I watched him as I wrapped the towel around me. Physically, we’d been as close as two people could get, but emotionally we were worlds apart. We’d share the bed again—because I’d seen the desire in Cassio’s gaze and because I wanted to. On an emotional level, however, getting closer to my husband would be difficult, I could tell already.
He moved to the washbasin and brushed his teeth. Watching him doing that felt more intimate than being naked in front of him. His expression was guarded. Only briefly during sex it had been anything else. I slinked out of the bathroom, giving him privacy. I’d already gone through my evening routine. I’d mostly managed to keep my hair dry during our shower and didn’t want to blow-dry it with him in the room. How could all these mundane activities feel too personal after what we’d just done?
Dropping the towel on the bench, I grabbed my nightgown from the floor and pulled it over my head. Trying to ignore the stain on the sheet, and still seeing it, because I simply couldn’t not see it, I slipped under the covers.
I’d been tired before. I wasn’t now. My body still hummed with adrenaline. When Cassio emerged ten minutes later in low-cut black pajama bottoms, my eyes traveled over him. Many men gained weight once they were married, not enough to be frowned upon by their Capo, but enough to cover up whatever muscles they’d worked hard for in their younger years. Cassio hadn’t. Every inch of him was pure muscle. Nothing soft about this man—not his body, expression, or eyes. If he noticed my silent scrutiny, he didn’t comment. Instead, he got into bed but left enough room to fit another person between us.
Weren’t we going to snuggle against each other? It was something I’d wished for from a marriage.
In the last few years, snuggles had been absent from my life. I wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend, who might have given them to me, and I was too old to seek that kind of closeness with my father. My mother had never been the type to show her affection on a physical level to begin with.
I’d hoped that marriage would open the door to affection that went beyond sex. I wanted to be held and cuddled. Maybe I had been foolish to think Cassio was someone who would be up for that.
Cassio twisted his head to me, but remained on his back. “What is it? You don’t have to be scared of me seeking you out again. We fulfilled our duty.”
Duty.
Honor. Duty. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d heard those two words in my life.
“That’s not it,” I whispered. “I just… I…”
Cassio’s dark brows drew together. “I’m not a mind reader, Giulia, and I don’t have the patience to guess your thoughts.”
His voice was rough.
Tears stung in my eyes at his rebuff.
He let out a small sigh, pushed up on his elbow, and peered down at me. “Are you in pain? Did I hurt you more than I thought?”
Of course, he’d think it had to be something physical bothering me.
“Giulia?” His strong hand touched my bare shoulder, and I shuddered under the gentle touch. Misunderstanding my reaction, he pulled his hand away, but I grasped it.
“Can we—” I couldn’t ask a man like Cassio to snuggle. Instead, I moved closer until I could sense his warmth, my fingers still clutching his hand. “Be close like this for a little while?”
For a moment, he didn’t react, only regarded me with those ocean-blue eyes. Then, without a word, he lowered himself to his back, but this time he raised his arm, opening up a spot for me. I slid even closer until I was pressed up to him, my face on his strong chest, one of my legs thrown over his muscled thigh. He smelled good, so good. Strong, warm, and manly. I held my hands awkwardly pressed against my breasts, unsure where to put them. Cassio curled his arm around my body, loosely at first, but then more tightly when I let out a small sigh. Gathering my courage, I rested one hand on his chest. Soon my fingers grew restless—curious.
Until this day I hadn’t been allowed to touch a man, to discover his body. I idly traced the smattering of hair on his pecs, realizing that I liked the feel of it. In the media I’d only ever seen guys with smooth chests and tried to imagine how they would feel. Cassio was all man, strong and with body hair. Not that he was overly hairy… he wasn’t. My fingers glided lower, over the ridges of his stomach, following the trail of hair until I bumped against his waistband.
Cassio gripped my hand. “Giulia.” It was low, dark and almost pained. He pulled back, dipped his head at the same time as I tipped mine up. He scanned my face.
What had I done wrong? Didn’t he like to be touched like that?
I felt the groan more than I heard it. It was on the verge of a tortured laugh. I blinked, trying to figure out my husband. He lifted my hand and firmly pressed it, palm flat, against his sternum. “It stays there.”
He lowered his head back to the pillow then extinguished the lights.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
Cassio grunted, almost a chuckle. “I’m not uncomfortable, and I know that you don’t mean to make me feel the way I feel. That is the problem. Now sleep.” The last was an order.
I gave up trying to figure out the meaning of his words. I wasn’t a mind reader either. Yawning, I settled more firmly against him and closed my eyes. Silence settled over us and my breathing eventually slowed as tiredness overcame me.
Cassio tensed. “Are you going to fall asleep like that?”
“You wanted me to sleep.”
“I do. On your side, not in my arm.”
My stomach dropped. This shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. Cassio was my husband, but only by name. I didn’t have strong feelings for him—or even knew him at all. Not saying anything from fear of giving away more than I intended, I scrambled as far away from him as I could.
My side of the bed was cold, not warm like Cassio’s. I swallowed my hurt and my longing, trying to breathe evenly. Still, tears fell from my eyes.
I could make out the outline of Cassio’s head and knew he was watching me. The knowledge that the dark hid my expression from him gave me little consolation because I had a feeling he knew I was crying from the way my breathing had sounded.
“I can’t sleep with someone close to me. Anyone,” he murmured.
I nodded, because words were out of the question.
“I guess it’s fitting that my second wedding night ends the same way my first did—with my crying wife in bed beside me.”
