96

GIO
Today marked Millie and my first anniversary together. The plan was to celebrate aboard our luxurious yacht in the tranquil waters of the Mediterranean. However, fate had different intentions for me. Instead of basking in the sun-kissed waves, I found myself trapped in a grueling meeting in New York. In an attempt to embody both the roles of Capo and Consigliere, I was becoming painfully aware that this dual responsibility was an uphill battle. The relentless demands of my position were robbing me of the time I once had for Millie.
Amidst the pressing matters at hand, there lingered the elusive thread of Harper’s whereabouts. If only Millie would break her silence and reveal Harper’s location, we could expedite the resolution of this ongoing ordeal. Sebastian’s prolonged absence weighed heavily on all of us, and uncovering Harper’s location was the key to his long-awaited return.
Uncle Amadeo’s voice cut through the tension-laden air, casting judgment on the situation. He pointed out that Sebastian should be at my side, assisting me in my responsibilities, rather than pursuing his own endeavors across Europe. I retorted, my tone sharp with determination, assuring him that I could manage the business on my own.
My gaze shifted to Renato, who stood in for his ailing father during these trying times. I inquired about the situation with the Bratva, recalling their recent aggressive attack on our drug depot in Philadelphia. Renato’s response revealed a ruthless efficiency in handling matters, akin to my approach in New York. The time was ripe for him to assume the position of Underboss officially, a transition I was delaying until Sebastian’s return. But the uncertainty of when, or if, that would happen remained a vexing enigma. Harper’s artful evasion tactics had so far eluded Sebastian’s grasp.
I acknowledged Renato’s words with a nod, my thoughts momentarily shifting to the brewing trouble with a nascent MC in New Jersey. Although a concern, their current status did not yet warrant a full-fledged assault.
Anticipating the Bratva’s next move, I speculated that they might direct their attention towards Atlanta or Charleston. My Underbosses, well-versed in the dynamics of our operations, concurred with the assessment. As I turned to Uncle Tonio, who oversaw our Atlanta operations, he began his report, bracing for the long night ahead.
The hours wore on, filled with strategic discussions and relentless evaluations. It was well into the evening when I finally managed to extricate myself from the meeting, having cut short one of Uncle Amadeo’s impassioned tirades. Dario, a stalwart presence in the background, acknowledged my departure with a nod.
Exiting into the open air, I felt a wave of fatigue wash over me. And yet, as my eyes landed on Millie, sprawled on the sofa, all irritation seemed to dissipate. Even though she seemed to be the epicenter of my current challenges, I couldn’t harbor any lasting resentment towards her.
Millie rose promptly as I approached, a palpable guilt playing across her features. Her words, spoken softly, bore a tender offering – sushi, a suggestion of a soak in the Jacuzzi to unwind. Her concern for my well-being was unmistakable. I nodded in gratitude and affection before our lips met in a weary kiss.
With her leading the way, I followed her indoors. Shedding the weight of the day, I undressed and eased into the warm embrace of the Jacuzzi. A sigh of relief escaped me as the soothing heat worked its magic on my tense muscles. Millie’s graceful steps caught my attention, and I watched as she approached, a tray cradled in her hands.
The tray held promises of respite – a bottle of champagne, two delicate glasses, and an assortment of sushi. Her effort to create a tranquil setting amidst the chaos of our lives was not lost on me. She slipped into the water, her nudity invoking the familiar response within me. She drew near, and I instinctively pulled her close, enfolding her in my embrace. As her lips brushed against my neck, her eyes met mine, their uncertainty a stark contrast to her typically confident demeanor.
“We are okay,” I reassured her, my thumb caressing her arm in a gentle, reassuring gesture.
Her gaze shifted to the champagne, and I reached for the bottle, popping it open with a subdued sense of celebration. My mind and body were fatigued, the strains of the day lingering heavily. While the significance of the day wasn’t lost on me, the weight of my responsibilities made this anniversary feel bittersweet.
In a scene that exuded both intimacy and indulgence, Millie and I found ourselves immersed in the luxurious ambiance of our evening. The delicate bubbles of champagne tickled our palates as we clinked glasses, the golden liquid reflecting the soft glow of the ambient lighting. With a subtle grace, she reached for the slender chopsticks, her fingers dancing along their length before deftly picking up a piece of my cherished favorite an eel inside-out roll. Holding it aloft, she extended her hand toward me, a gesture pregnant with familiarity and unspoken connection.
Accepting the morsel, a surge of contentment coursed through me as I relished the intricate flavors on my tongue, a medley of tastes that mirrored the intricate dance of emotions unfolding between us. It was as if with every bite, a layer of tension that had long gripped me was slowly released, dissipating into the ether.
Our culinary journey eventually came to a close, leaving in its wake a serene atmosphere that seemed to beckon us toward a different form of intimacy. Millie, with a sensuality that was both confident and tender, straddled my lap, her proximity sending a shiver down my spine. Her skilled hands embarked on a journey of their own, kneading and coaxing the knots and burdens that resided in my shoulders.
Leaning back into her touch, I let my eyelids flutter shut, allowing the sensations to wash over me. It was in this moment of shared vulnerability that her voice, a whisper of warmth, brushed against my ear. The suggestion she offered was laden with promise, an invitation to ascend to our sanctuary of intimacy and grant her the canvas of my back for her artful ministrations.
With a voice modulated to match the intimacy of our interaction, I responded to her proposition, the words dripping with agreement and anticipation. Millie’s form straightened, rivulets of water cascading down her flawless contours, an image that etched itself into my mind. Rising to my feet, I left the embrace of the Jacuzzi, extending a hand to assist her graceful exit.
In the tranquility of our bedroom, the transition from wet to dry became a bridge between the two acts of our evening. Millie’s gestures guided me, a silent request to recline on my stomach. Obeying willingly, I positioned myself, feeling the plushness of the bedding cradle me. Her form descended upon mine, the warmth of her skin juxtaposed against the coolness of my back.
With deliberate tenderness, her fingers embarked on an exploration of the inked design adorning my shoulder. Her inquiry about any regrets tied to the tattoo emerged as a gentle murmur, a query that opened a window into deeper conversations. The answer flowed freely from me, uncomplicated and genuine a simple “no.”
Her actions shifted, a kiss planted upon the tattooed artistry before her hands, the instruments of her skill, began their intricate dance. Waves of relaxation cascaded with each precise movement, as if the contours of my body were a symphony she orchestrated to liberate every note of tension. The words that escaped my lips were raw, a testament to the effect of her touch an acknowledgment of how oblivious I had been to the weight I carried.
Millie’s understanding of pressure and rhythm became evident as I sank further into the bed, muscles acquiescing under her practiced touch. The sensation was transformative, my limbs gaining an almost weightless quality as I surrendered to the magic she conjured.
~*~
As the first light of morning streamed through the curtains, I gradually emerged from slumber, greeted by the sensation of Millie’s tender form nestled against mine. The warmth of her body and the gentle caress of sunlight on my face roused me from my sleep, and with a sudden jolt, my eyes opened wide as a groan escaped my lips. “Oh, damn.”
Millie’s eyelashes fluttered, and she turned her gaze towards me, her captivating blue eyes locking onto mine. Her voice, still carrying traces of sleep, inquired, “What’s the matter?”
I grumbled in response, “I ended up falling asleep. Not only did you spend most of our anniversary with Dario, but I didn’t even get to make love to you the way I had hoped.”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. In a graceful motion, she propped herself up on my chest, allowing the sheets to cascade around her. “You know,” she began, her voice a soothing balm, “I think it’s a fitting conclusion to our first year of marriage. Just as fate seemed to play a little trick on you on our wedding night, it’s almost poetic that I didn’t get my wish on our first anniversary.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound vibrating between us. Millie had always possessed the remarkable ability to lighten even the heaviest of moods. She was my beacon of light in the darkest moments. My fingers traced delicate patterns down her spine, tracing the curve of her waist and over the soft contour of her hips before daringly venturing between her legs, discovering her arousal. A subtle gasp escaped her lips as my touch met her wetness. “Perhaps,” I suggested with a mischievous glint in my eye, “we could embark on our second year with a truly unforgettable intimacy, setting the tone for the journey ahead.”
Millie’s smile grew more pronounced, a mixture of anticipation and desire in her gaze. The melodious harmony of her pleasure-filled moan intertwined with the air as my fingers brushed against her sensitive clit. “That,” she managed to breathe amidst the mounting sensations, “sounds absolutely perfect.”