MILLIE
Uncharacteristically, his hands roamed sparingly across my skin, not following his usual patterns. Fueled by a growing urgency, I reached down, my fingers eager to add to the ecstasy by touching my own need, but Gio’s gentle yet firm touch intercepted mine. His voice, a blend of desire and determination, reached my ears, urging me to a new endeavor. “Let’s try to make you come with my cock only.”
The challenge ignited a spark within me. It was an unfamiliar territory, the notion of finding release without the customary friction. Our fingers intertwined as he pressed our joined hands against the cool marble surface. His next thrust mirrored the angle that had already uncovered a realm of pleasure I hadn’t known before, causing a gasp to escape my lips. Wide-eyed, I held his possessive gaze, a silent understanding passing between us.
In these moments, every instance of our intimacy etched itself into me anew, branding me as his in the most primal sense. Gio’s possessiveness was a trait as innate as my own breath, a testament to the world he navigated, a world of power and control, where he stood among formidable individuals.
His rhythmic thrusts found their mark repeatedly, a dance of passion and yearning that teased my senses. The same spot was caressed with precision, sending waves of pleasure through me. Time seemed to lose its meaning, as he maintained an unhurried yet unrelenting pace. Beads of sweat adorned his chest, and the exertion painted him in a raw, primal allure.
A rumbling, almost primal inquiry rumbled from his throat, seeking the depths of my experience. With every forceful thrust, he pushed me closer to a precipice I had never traversed before. Words escaped me, and I gasped out my appreciation, my voice a testament to the heights he was propelling me towards.
In the crescendo of our connection, his lips left mine, and my head instinctively fell backward as a cry tore through the air, marking the peak of my pleasure. Gio’s movements grew more urgent, an unbridled symphony of desire as he found his own release within me, his primal groans harmonizing with my ecstatic cries.
Tremors cascaded through me, the world blurring as I clung to him, his presence the only anchor in a sea of sensation. As the intensity subsided, I found my voice again, a breathless whisper of awe escaping my lips. “Incredible.”
His smug smirk reflected dominance and satisfaction, a silent acknowledgment of the heights we had reached together. With a touch of tenderness, he cupped my cheek, pulling me close for a kiss that spoke of unspoken bonds and fiery passion. Yet, despite the euphoria, a question lingered, veiled by my uncertainty.
Gio’s assurance was tender as he reassured me, his words imbued with both experience and affection. “You are anything but normal, Millie. In every regard.” The frown on my face betrayed my lingering insecurities, but his chuckle held a promise. “It’s a gift, believe me. Many need more than this to find their release, even with a partner.”
His explanation unraveled a new layer of intimacy between us, a deeper understanding of the physical and emotional intricacies we shared. The thought of other women with him flickered at the edges of my mind, but I quickly pushed it away, resolved in my claim on him.
His lips met mine once more, a final connection before he withdrew from within me, a transition marked by a bittersweet ache. A future awaited, the prospect of a shared life, a honeymoon, and more. A grin played on my lips as his words resonated. Happiness surged within me, a tidal wave of emotions that would have seemed implausible before.
The journey from uncertainty to this euphoric contentment was one I could never have foreseen, and yet here I was, entangled with Gio, my heart and desires intertwined with his in ways I had never imagined.
GIO
The mellifluous cadence of Sebastian’s voice struggled to weave its way through the labyrinth of my thoughts. Millie, her very essence, dominated my mind, the canvas upon which my desires painted vividly, especially as our impending honeymoon drew near.
Perched lazily in the armchair, one leg slung casually over the armrest, Sebastian’s words danced past me, struggling to find purchase amidst my preoccupation. “Gio, why prolong this facade? Spare me the pretense of feigned interest,” his voice resonated, accompanied by an impish grin. This was our sanctum within the Sphere my office the arena where family matters took center stage.
My gaze sharpened, eyes narrowing as they met his challenging expression. “I am attentive,” I retorted, my voice edged with a touch of irritation. “You needn’t seek validation for every intricate detail. Your decisions hold weight, fortified by Dario’s unwavering support. Spare me the incessant queries that pester my every day.”
A dismissive shake of his head followed, ebony locks cascading like a raven’s wing. “Capo,” he mused, his tone tinged with mock solemnity. “Consigliere,” I countered, an unspoken understanding threading through the words. The upcoming week, a mere fragment in time, would see me absent, a honeymoon respite. “Our domain,” I reassured him, “can find its anchor in your guidance for that span. The intricacies of family, the dance of loyalty, are familiar to you.”
His reassurances held, yet a spark of apprehension lay unspoken in the air. “Uncles and cousins,” he ventured, “await the prize, the Capo mantle. United ambition remains an elusive specter; they’re fractious by nature.”
Dissatisfaction gnawed at the edges of his composure. “Their bravado,” I interjected, “masked as potential rebellion. Yet, I trust they won’t hazard an assault. Their yearning for supremacy keeps them fractured, hesitant to conjure unity.”
“It’s not their audacity that preoccupies me,” he admitted, a contemplative air replacing his bravado. “My concern lies in keeping our forces aligned. A feat which, though manageable, may necessitate regrettable ends.”
I met his gaze, my exasperation palpable. “The agitators,” I proposed, a mere suggestion that trembled with latent implications.
“Millie,” he quipped, the syllables a mere whisper yet resonating like an echo in the chamber. His candor cut through the air, a provocation unheeded by my heart but stinging my pride.
In a heartbeat, the room was charged, the space between us reduced to a breath’s breadth. Instinct surged within me, a lightning impulse that drove my fingers to his throat, the force slamming him against the backrest. Tautness resonated through his frame, his fingers grazing the hilt of a knife a lethal dance halted only by the essence of our bond.
Moments stretched, suspended like a drop of rain caught in midair. Then, reason prevailed, and my grip relented. Distance was restored, a maelstrom of emotions settling like ash in the aftermath of a storm.
His throat rubbed tenderly, fingers tracing the phantom contours of my wrath. “Familiarity,” he wheezed, a wry smile quirking his lips, “with a cousin’s demise, but hardly anticipated the honor myself.”
No apologies lingered on my tongue. Instead, I found solace in the cabinet housing amber elixirs. The glasses were filled, the tension in the room quelled by the liquid fire they held. Side by side, we drank in shared silence, words supplanted by understanding.
“The answer, it seems,” he croaked, the glass lowering from his lips, “to the query I’ve held, resides in your unspoken reaction.”
A frown creased my brow, words poised yet unspoken. “To what inquiry?”
“The threshold,” he elucidated, “of what it would take for my life to become forfeit at your hands.”
A sigh, heavy with significance, emanated from my chest. “Sebastian,” I murmured, “blood binds us. A bond transcending time and transgressions. Trust laces our sinews, tethering life and loyalty.”
A grin, sharp as a blade’s edge, sliced through his features. “Oh, Gio,” he purred, “a truth lies between us, one we dare not utter. We, the architects of death, bear within us the capacity for each other’s demise. Yours, vested in Millie.”