a little bliss

FRANCESCA

HE STARES AT ME with eyes as sharp as a hawk’s, leaning against the oak table in his office. I can feel my skin turning pale, knowing the confrontation that’s about to happen.

Angelina’s questioning has messed with his mind, and now I’m about to hit him with another shock about his innocent, trustworthy sister.

I hate being the one to stress him out, and I hate Alessia for putting me in this position, but can I really blame her?

I know what it’s like to be in such a strange, oppressive environment. Alessia isn’t the one at fault here. It’s us. She hasn’t done anything wrong.

“What’s so urgent that you had to come here? You know I want you away from all this bullshi—stupidity,” he corrects himself, a bit stiffly. The annoyance he usually hides is starting to show in his eyes.

I feel guilty for no reason. He has a knack for making me feel that way without even trying. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s kind of important,” I tell him.

He just narrows his eyes. “Come here, sweetheart.”

I scrunch up my nose, a smile forming on my lips. “You’ve never called me sweetheart before.”

He rolls his eyes. “You remember everything.”

“What can I say? I have a good memory,” I reply.

He squeezes my waist as I get closer. “I believe that’s a very nice trait in a mob wife.”

“Just a mob wife?” I raise my eyebrows.

He smirks. “In my mob wife who is also the Donna of the Family and the mother of my child.” He places a hand on my stomach.

I smile, tilting my head a little. “That’s better.”

I’m surprised when he hugs me, but I quickly return the gesture. I love his hugs. They’re always so sweet and warm and unexpected.

He runs his fingers through my brown hair. His lips touch the pulse of my neck and leave a wet kiss. I can feel him smile as he notices my heart rate spike.

I pull him into a kiss, forgetting what I’m actually here for. All I can see is him, the man I’m so happy to be with. Despite his flaws, he’s perfect to me.

What would life be like, with me waiting for him at home with our children? Playing with our children together? Having dinner together without any tension?

What would it be like, becoming more complete than we already are? What would it be like being normal?

He pulls away. “What are you thinking, ~bambola~? I don’t like it when your attention wanders away from me,” he says.

I smile softly. “Nothing. I was just wondering what it will be like when we have a family—me waiting at home with our ten children.

“You coming home from work, us having movie nights, playing together with our kids, sleeping together, being tired to death but not enough to not please each other.”

His gaze pierces mine intensely and he cups my cheek tenderly. He seems to be lost in thought and I fear he thinks I’m being too sappy. I want to take back my words but what’s done is done.

He finally snaps out of his trance and blinks in confusion. “Ten children?”

I grin, relieved by his positive reaction, and nod. “Yes, Your Honor.”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. We don’t need an army of children irritating and spoiling our moments.

“The girl in your womb is enough, not to mention that I’ll be deprived of you in the next couple of months with your huge bump.”

I gasp, scandalized. “Firstly, I am very sure that pregnancy does not alter sleeping together. Secondly, one? Excuse me, Antonio, but it does not work that way.

“Remember what you said: ‘you are the woman of the house,’ so I will decide how many children we will have and you will deal with it. And thirdly, who told you it was a girl?

“I want a boy, a mini-Antonio running around the house in his diapers,” I tease. I don’t really want ten children either.

Antonio surely wouldn’t have trouble putting them in me, but I would have trouble with the after-effects.

For example, a loose bladder and a very lost figure. Not to mention the responsibility of raising them all and risking them in the mob.

“Are you ordering me?” His grip on me tightens but I know he’s not serious. Serious Antonio would have a completely different reaction. He’s just playing.

“What if I am?” I ask, lowering my voice in a seductive way. I love provoking this reaction in him. I love being the only person to see him like this.

I love being his woman and having the biggest claim on him.

“I am not complaining then,” he murmurs, his soft lips grazing mine.

I smile against his lips as he backs me into a wall and locks my hands above my head in a tight, bruising grip.

He shifts his thigh so that it’s between my legs and hikes up my dress with his other hand, grinning the moment he finds my damp panties.

“You’re dripping, ~bambola~,” he says in a proud voice as if he’s accomplished something great.

In that moment, I realize that something has changed between us. The formal tone has long faded, but now things are getting warm between us.

I love the warmth even more than my desire to have him in his office while his colleagues stand outside. I love him with his guard down.

Trust is something he doesn’t give out often. I feel lucky to have it.

He lets go of my arms and moves my thighs to straddle his thigh as he pushes harder against my warmth and I moan softly.

He chuckles beside my ear, his warm breath fanning the crook of my neck. I lick my lips as a breathy sigh leaves me.

He goes down on his knees, leaving me confused. “What are you doing?” I ask. It feels weird seeing him on his knees in front of me.

He smiles at my confused state, leaving me breathless. He’s so beautiful.

“I’m going to kiss you, if you allow me to,” he says.

“But my lips are here.” I touch my roughed-up lips and feel the messed-up lipstick.

He laughs softly. “~Bambola~, your lips are tempting, but I’d rather kiss you somewhere else.”

I blink, confused. “Okay…will it hurt?”

He tries to hide a grin, his eyebrows knitting together. “Yes, a ~lot~.” He draws out the last word for effect.

I shoot him a glare. “Very funny, Antonio. I can see you’re amused.”

“You can be a bit clueless sometimes, but it’s okay,” he says, sliding my panties down and lifting my dress.

“How is being clueless okay, Antonio? Clueless is just ignorant,” I counter, shivering as the cool air brushes against my skin.

“You just used a synonym for clueless to define clueless,” he points out.

I gasp. “Antonio, you—”

His lips find my warmth, making me jump. A light bulb goes off in my head as I realize what lips he was actually referring to.

He was right, I was a bit clueless not to catch on sooner.

I grip his hair tightly as he teases my bundle of nerves with his tongue before plunging in. His fingers toy with my clit and I moan at the sensation, my back arching.

This continues for a while and soon enough I’m gasping for breath as I release the tension building in my stomach.

He rises and brushes my hair out of my face before nipping at my lower lip with his teeth. I hiss at the sting.

Through my blurry vision, I watch him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

“Look at me, ~bambola~,” he whispers. “Into my eyes. Only into my eyes.” His dark eyes meet mine. “You look beautiful like this—wild, in my arms.”

I smile. “You’re beautiful, Antonio.”

He blinks, taken aback. “What?”

I simply tighten my hold on him. He grips my thighs and lifts my legs around his waist, carrying me to his desk and setting me on top.

Goosebumps prick my skin as the cold surface meets my warm body. He sweeps the items on his desk onto the floor before pushing me back.

I arch my back as I feel the cold water spill on his desk.

“It’s cold, Antonio. Please,” I plead, not for the cold to go away, but for his warmth to replace it.

He smirks. “You’re Francesca Antonio Giordano. I’m sure you can handle a little cold.”

I gasp as he sprinkles some water on my neck. I grip his arm tightly, my nails digging into his skin. “Antonio, stop,” I say through clenched teeth.

He chuckles. “Okay, love.”

I hear the rustle of his slacks being removed before I feel him nudging against my thigh. He pulls me closer, gripping my thighs before thrusting inside me roughly.

I moan as he pauses to let me adjust, even though I don’t need to. I’ve already had him before, just hours ago.

I moan again, tilting my head back, praying that no one will walk in on the intimate moment between my husband and me as he brings me to my climax and reaches his own shortly after.