Betrayed (Chianti Kisses #3) (2 page)

Damn!

I hear her struggle to keep it all in, knowing that it’s no easy feat. She does it though, having mastered and perfected the act, caressing each of the ten inches with her tongue.

Her hands grab round to the back and squeeze me, pulling me even further down her throat. I watch her eyes widen, impressed with herself almost as much as I am. It’s held for just a mere moment before she pulls back, breathing in deep and leaving my manhood suspended and pointing at her.

She stares at it hungrily as she fortifies herself with air, preparing to take it once more in the warm hollow between her cheeks. I see her lips part and begin the ascent to take the tip, but I instinctively reach under her arms and lift.

As much as I love being in her mouth, it just won’t do right now. I need more.

“Dom!” she laughs as I impatiently work the tied string belt of her apron.

It doesn’t cooperate and soon I give up on it, instead, moving to the hem of the casual skirt she’s wearing. I don’t have time to do this any other way. I pull the material up and push aside the sleek, silky, patch of panties blocking my way.

I take hold of her thighs, lifting her up to sit on the clear counter space nearby, settling in close, parting her knees further to fit snuggly around me. The tile must be cold because she whimpers a bit as her flesh makes contact with the custom marble. It’s alright. She’ll be heating it up in no time.

Her lips are plump, juicy as I slide my way through them and into the tight vice between her thighs. Her neck stretches back, relishing in it as the friction of our bodies greets the other, fitting together perfectly.

“This,” I tell her, pulling myself out only to drive back in again. “This is the only gift I want.”

Her breathing hitches as the counter gives me the perfect height and angle to hit the spot that she hides so well. The one so deep even I have trouble finding it at times. But today, right here, like this-- it’s on point like a bull’s-eye and I won’t be missing.

She breaks out in a light sweat as her body reacts to the deep penetration. Looks like I’m not the only one getting a gift tonight.

She’s about ready, in one… two…

She grabs onto my shoulders, fingernails digging in as her flesh tightens itself like a vice around me. Her breathing is erratic, her body rigid in some places, yet limp in others as it thrashes in my arms. Watching her reach the satisfaction I give her is as much a turn-on as anything.

I take her mouth, muffling her cries as she screams her pleasure into me. They subside after a few seconds, quieting down as she pulls what’s left of herself together.

Her head falls, weakened from the recent toll on her body. I know she’s in a delicate spot right now, so close to the threshold, unable to take much more.

“Happy Anniversary, V.” I kiss her lips tenderly before guiding her back to rest on the hard surface, using my hands to lift the small of her back, supporting it.

Her eyes are dreamy as she watches, her lips slightly parted. She’s spent, her body depleted. I know she’ll come back to me, but for now, I let my movements soothe her.

I rock my hips, back and forth, in and out as my fingers knead the stress from her body. Her eyes close and she stretches like a cat, reveling in the connection our bodies have with one another’s.

I splay my fingers wide, nearly wrapping around the width of her middle. Even with the tiny growing bump in the front, she’s still tiny enough where I have to treat her delicately.

Each thrust of my hips moves her slightly, pleasing her. Each time I bottom out, it feels like it might be the end, might be the final push over the edge to my own release. But, I find some hidden reserve willing me on.

We lock eyes, staring into each other. It may have been six months since we said our vows, when I knew those eyes would be mine to gaze into forever, but each time I look at her I swear I find some new facet, new dimension to them.

Just when I think I know everything about her, she finds some way to surprise me, some way to remind me that she’s the most beautifully unique person alive.

And she’s all mine.

If this is what it feels like to be married to her for six months… I can’t wait to see what sixty years feels like.

~*~

“So, do you want your gift now?” Her fingers tease and tickle through the small hairs of my chest.

I crane my neck to look at her, sprawled out over me. Once she gained her second wave of energy, we were able to somehow make our way upstairs for round two. And three. She was the exhausted one before, but now… I can hardly gather the energy to even answer her.

“Hmm?” I manage. “I thought that
was
my gift?”

Her tiny little laugh lets out just before I lose her body heat as she leaves the bed.

“Wait here,” she directs as she glides out of the bedroom with nothing more than the top sheet wrapped around her.

Trust me, I’m not going
anywhere
right now. In fact, I may not even be awake when she gets back.

A calmness creeps over me as my thoughts become clouded, hovering in that thin veil that precipitates sleep.

“Dom, wake up!” She jumps on the bed, startling me from the promise of sleep. “Happy anniversary!”

Warm lips cover mine, apologizing for the rude awakening. A small box is placed on my lower half. I eye it suspiciously.

“Is it a pony?” My guess teases her.

I can see she’s impatient for me to uncover the truth. So, I shimmy myself up on my elbows to rest against the padded headboard and take the small box up to my ear, shaking it enough to cause the contents to rattle.

“It doesn’t feel like a pony,” I conclude.

She playfully jabs me in the ribs. “Open it already!”

I take my sweet time removing the ribbon and gift wrap, watching her grow more and more anxious the closer I get to the mysterious gift. She’s antsy, adjusting herself and moving in the slightest ways to release the excitement. The best part about a gift from V, whether it’s Christmas, your birthday or a random thank you, is watching her get all worked up about giving it to you.

It’s cute and sexy at the same time.

I take the cover off the box, pretending to struggle with it a bit just to bust her chops. She scowls at me to finish the task.

Once the cover is off, the inner chamber of the cardboard cube is revealed. Inside, there’s a small envelope. I eye it curiously. V watches with immense pride as the tiny, white, sealed envelope is exposed.

I open my mouth to begin to ask the question on my mind but am interrupted.

“I had the sonogram tech write down the sex of the baby at the last visit. It’s in there. I haven’t looked. You’ll be the first to know if you want to.”

I listen to her words as I take the envelope in my fingers. It’s so light, thin… hard to imagine something so innocent could hold something so powerful.

“Sho--should we open it?” I hear my own voice take on some choked aspect.

Her golden cheeks blush.

“It’s your anniversary gift. You could open it, save it… I’ll let you decide.”

Wow. For once in my life, I’m speechless. I don’t know what to do, or what to say. Should I peel open the flap, find out the answer to the question burning in my mind? Or do I hold onto it and open it when the curiosity is unbearable? We’ve got six more months of waiting, is it possible to hold out that long and not give into temptation?

I find myself making a case for either choice, but not being able to commit to either.

“This is incredible, V.” I’m still in shock. “And now I have something for you.”

I make the easiest decision available about the envelope… I don’t choose either way. I look for the quickest distraction and open the bedside drawer, withdrawing the folded gift bag.

The crinkling and crackling of the stiff paper in hand brings V to life, squirming around to catch a better glimpse from over my shoulder. I play with her, protectively covering the bag like a football about to be snatched away by an opponent. Patience was
never
one of her strong suits.

“Ah!! Baby you didn’t have to- but this is so sweet- can I open it? Please? Can I open it now?”

Her hopping movements shake the mattress, creating waves of motion that jolt us both. I hand over the small pink and black bag like candy to a baby, knowing she’s foaming at the mouth wanting to know the mysterious contents.

Her excitement is palpable, her movements frenzied, as she grabs at the tissue paper and begins to pull out all barriers between her and the present inside. I know my baby, she doesn’t care about its value… she just has an insatiable curiosity and can’t bear to
not
know what the mysterious object is.

Her eyes dart up to mine as they alternate with the task at hand.

In no time, we’re surrounded by a sea of torn paper and wrapping, with the bag itself almost torn to shreds. She shrieks in elation as she holds the little velvet box in the palm of her hand.

She’s biting her lip, lifting the small, hinged cover open to reveal the bauble inside. My eyes are fixed on hers as I gauge her reaction. I’ve been planning this for weeks, imagining each and every possible outcome. But none of them measure up to the one I’m watching now.

She loses the breath in her lungs, exhaling deep as she holds the small gold band between her delicate fingers. The old ring sparkles with new life as it catches the rays of muted moonlight, dazzling as the radiance of the heirloom takes center stage.

“Here, let me.” I take the ring from her gentle grasp and slide it down the length of her ring finger, settling it next to her engagement ring that hugs our own wedding band.

“Perfect,” I kiss the flesh immediately below the new addition to her jewelry collection.

“Dom…” she gasps. “Is this--?”

“She would have wanted you to have it, to know that it’s still as much cornerstone of this family as it was the day my grandfather put it on her own finger.”

Nonna’s been gone now for a couple of months. Her death was hard on each of us, especially V. I know she would have been overjoyed to hear the news of the baby, to know that another generation of DiBenedetto’s was on the horizon.

V swallows hard, wiping at the corner of her eye with her free hand. She smiles, nodding.

“If it’s a girl… let’s name her after Nonna,” she puts forth.

I lean in kissing her salty, tear-moistened lips. “Do you know something I don’t?”

She laughs. “You’ll have to open the envelope and find out.”

“Before I do that, there’s one more gift I have for you.”

There’s no better time than now to give her the rest of the family legacy that she’s owed.

“All of our shares in A.T.F., they’ll be transferred solely in your name. No matter what happens,” I place my hand on the small bump of her stomach through the bed sheets, “our family will always be protected, have financial security.”

She’s confused. “But… you can’t be CEO of a company you have no stock in.”

I don’t answer. I let her put together the missing pieces, becoming aware of the full ramifications of the deal.

“Dom! No!”

I knew this wouldn’t be easy.

CHAPTER TWO

VINCENZA

How could he do this?

Without even asking me, or discussing it with me first? I feel like I’m on a freaking hamster wheel, running around and around. Dom’s done this over and over, making decisions without consulting me, doing what
he
thinks is best for the both of us.

The papers are pretty straightforward despite the legal mumbo jumbo and technical terms, and I’ve gathered enough from it to get the gist of the agreement. I’ve read through them three times, each time expecting to find some hidden Easter egg that might somehow make this just a bit less… final.

All that’s missing from the contract is my signature.

I have a pen in hand, ready to scribble the damning autograph that will ensure the future of my child but take away what means so much to his or her father. Dom was born to lead ATH, to be the cut throat businessman with a heart of gold that has helped him achieve so much.

It breaks my heart to see things go off course the way they have.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.
None
of this was. And the longer I sit here going over the possible outcome to signing Dom’s legitimate future away, paving the way for him to fully devote himself to the other side of our family legacy… I can’t help but hesitate.

“Hey, babe,” Dom walks in, covered in sweat-soaked workout clothes and flushed skin.

I don’t look up. “Hey….”

The refrigerator door opens, bottles clink followed by loud gulping. I smile and shake my head, knowing him well enough to know what he’s doing.

“You are
not
going to put that juice back, right?”

He takes the seat next to me at the center island, the orange juice container placed on the counter. The golden, yellow-orange droplet hanging from his lower lip commands my attention. I can practically taste the citrusy-sweet tartness on my own lips as I hone in on the tempting target.

It doesn’t stay there long, as Dom’s bulging arms quickly move to swipe the back of his hand against the plump lip. Once the stickiness is wiped clean, he leans forward, sweat dripping on nearly every visible surface of bronze skin. I pull back, inching away from the drenching pile of sex on a stick.

He raises his eyebrow. “Baby! Come on… give me some love.”

“You’re drenched! You’re gonna sweat all over me.”

He laughs. “You
love
it when I sweat all over you.”

I feel my cheeks blush, even though I should be used to his bawdy bedroom humor by now.

“I like it when
I’m
the one making you sweat. Not when I’m fully dressed and ready to go out,” I clarify.

He rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s only semantics.”

I scowl at him and reach forward very carefully, not to get any of his dampness on my freshly-pressed shirt. His skin is extra salty and slick. I peck his lips long enough to make me want more, but pull away just before I act on it.

“I’m leaving now, anyway… no time for that.” I’m already running late and don’t need another distraction.

The girls won’t think twice about busting my chops if I’m late.

Who am I kidding? I’m
always
late. But, I don’t need to make it worse than it’s going to be. I stand.

“Did you sign it yet?” Dom pretends not to place too much importance on the question.

I exhale. “Not yet. I’m still not sure.”

He pulls me in, resting his arms around my waist, his chin settling on the little shelf my baby belly now makes.

“We talked about this, V.” His voice is soft.

I choose my words carefully. “I know. It’s just… it’s not easy.”

He kisses the rounded point of my belly. “The right thing is never easy, V. I need you to sign this. I need to know that no matter what happens, you’ll be cared for. Both of you.”

He picks up the discarded pen from the table and slips it into my hand.

“Sign it, baby.”

I lean forward until the ballpoint tip of the pen is pressed against the paper, settled on the signature line. I apply the needed pressure to my index finger and thumb to move the pen as it glides over the thick legal paper.

“The car’s ready, Mrs. D.” Carmine’s voice reaches me before I actually see his form.

I turn my head quickly, “
V
, Carmine. I told you to call me V.”

“Sorry, V. Car’s ready,” he apologizes.

My attention is ripped from Carmine as Dom places his large, rough-palmed hand over mine. “V… sign the paper.”

I have my husband on one side and Carmine on the other, both needing something from me. Not to mention, Theresa, Mary and Cecily waiting for me at the furniture store.

I quickly scratch the rest of my name on the document to appease Dom, being excused to go meet the girls.

“Have a good time, baby.” He stands and kisses me lightly, knowing I’m no fan of PDA with Carmine watching. “Don’t spend too much.”

He smacks my tush after scooping up the signed contract and leaves to no doubt take a much-needed shower.

~*~

“Why the hell is
he
here?” Theresa pulls my arm, leading me away from the group.

The bell on the door is barely finished chiming as Carmine and I walk into the showroom. She may be addressing me with her voice, but her eyes are anything but focused on me. She scowls like a defensive cat at the travel companion behind me.

“Um… be nice. He’s here to help carry packages and things.” I can see her lower lip actually curl. “I thought you guys were getting long?”

These two are going to give me whiplash. One day they hate each other, the next, they practically want to jump each other’s bones and now she’s back to loathing him.

I don’t wait for an explanation. “You know what? I don’t really want to know.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “You two can figure this out on your own, and I… can go pick out nursery furniture.”

I step aside to pass her. “Mary, Cecily! Let’s go.”

~*~

THERESA

“You’re not
still
pissed at me, are you?” he slides his sunglasses off, folds them and tucks them into the hidden inner pocket of his suit jacket.

I slit my eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Carmine.”

Feeling satisfied with my strong response, I turn on my heel and stalk off.

I don’t get far.

“I’d rather be fucking
you
.”

He did
not
just say that in public! A nearby saleslady, old enough to be my mother, drops her jaw in shock from eavesdropping and witnessing his vulgarity.

“Bite me, you bastard,” I spit back.

He laughs. “As hard as you want, baby. But, that’s more your thing than mine.”

Ugh! He’s such a smart-ass. One time. I bit him
one time
, on his shoulder, to keep from screaming and having someone discover us with our pants around our ankles in the pantry of Dom and V’s kitchen.

“Go bite some other chic. This one’s had enough.”

This time, I manage to put enough distance between myself and the Italian Casanova to once again breathe. Standing that close to him with his dark eyes, black eyelashes, and penetrating stare as he mocks me is too much.

I promised myself I wouldn’t let him get to me anymore. I’ve learned my lesson… over and over again.

It’s the same outcome every single time with this guy. He smiles, says something sweet, then says a little more, convincing me that he’s the boy I loved years ago. Well… he’s definitely
not
a boy anymore. He’s a sexy as sin, hot-blooded man who knows how to charm me, use his body to lure me, and then show his true colors when I get too close, reminding me that he’s a lethal predator with survival instincts unwilling to let me get closer than just a naked body in his bed.

I finally wise up and tell him off, promising myself that I’ve had enough. But… words are easy to say. It’s following through that gets me in trouble. I never can just follow through.

His smirk, his powerful build moving in a way that reminds me of what other moves he’s capable of- mainly on top of me- get me in trouble every time. The way his eyebrow arches, the way his lips pucker… ahh!!!

I’m not even looking at him, and I can see that stupid smirk in my mind as if I were staring at it dead on. I need a distraction, any distraction. I need to shop.

The imported leather sofas have that expensive new car smell, with many different sizes, colors, and shapes I pass as I walk through the narrow aisles. My apartment is already fully furnished and decorated thanks to mom and Aunt Marie, and nothing here is necessary, but I continue to shop. If just to pass the time and not have to look V in the eye as we would both tip-toe around the topic of Carmine, I steer clear of the baby section and head further into the store.

I pass the recliners, the dining tables next, and find myself having nowhere else to go other than the bedroom department.

Row after row of plush, luxurious, pillow-top, euro-top, and memory foam slices of heaven are laid out along the perimeter of the room. Shiny headboards, tufted headboards, and wrought iron ones are the most obvious distinction between the sea of never-ending padded platforms.

One middle-aged couple leaves the shopping area with a stack of brochures in hand and a healthy discussion going about the merits of one bed over the other. She likes one, he likes another.

They continue their gentle argument all the way out the door of the department.

I lean up against one of the mattresses and bounce, testing the inner springs for buoyancy.

Hmmm… nice.

I slip my sandals off one foot at a time and swing my legs up to rest on the sumptuous padding. Closing my eyes, I bask in the relaxation the bed solicits from me.

“Should we test it out?”

His voice startles me but I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I do the only thing I can think to do, and pretend to snore.

He laughs and I feel the bed lower and shift with the newly added weight of his body lying next to mine.

“That’s OK. I’m
used
to listening to you snore while you sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping. Just bored. And what a coincidence… I’m
used
to being bored sleeping next to
you
.” I’m quick to retort. “Besides… you never sleep next to me, anyway. You hightail it out as soon as you can.”

“Ahh…” he sounds enlightened. “So
that’
s why you’re acting so bitchy. I told you… I had to take care of some business. Some very important business for my boss-
your brother
? You know… the man who made it very clear he would put a hit out on me himself, not to mention cut off my---” He clears his throat uncomfortably and shifts, causing the bed to rock.

“I’m risking life and limb to be with you, Tre, doesn’t that count for something?”

His explanation does nothing to soothe the sting his abrupt departure from my apartment at 2am this morning has had on my confidence. Business or not, he threw on his clothes and ran out of my place faster than a whore running out of confession.

The sheets had barely dried and there I was, left alone in the dark, reminded once again of how I always come in second.

We’d been finding stolen moments together here and there ever since he’d recovered from his gunshot wounds. It hasn’t been long at all, but it’s been intense. The nights are intense, the fights are intense… and the making up puts it all to shame. But there’s one constant in all of it. I don’t have all of him, only a piece.

Just like back then, when we were teenagers, I’m only given little scraps of what’s left over after and in between work or whatever the hell he does for my brother.

I remember all too well how it turned out for us last time he eventually had to choose between me and this lifestyle of which he’s so obsessed. I was left with my crumpled clothes in hand and my broken heart in pieces as I left his little apartment above his uncle’s restaurant, crying all the way home and vowing to hate him forever.

Forever turned out to be exactly six and a half years.

Then, fate stepped in and threw this walking orgasm back into my life. I’d stayed strong, vigilant in my hatred for him, but it only took a handful of words to lead to my undoing.

The morning after he was shot doing his duty while protecting my brother and I sat vigil by his bedside, fully expecting each breath to be his last… he broke my heart again, only this time in a good way.

He opened his eyes for the first time since being sedated, looked me right in the eyes and said: “Thank God. I want the last thing I see on this earth to be you, Theresa.”