Devil’s Thirst: A Mafia Stalker Romance (The Moretti Men Book 1)
Devil’s Thirst: Chapter 30

If you ask me, women are incredible strategists and are totally underutilized in our society. We make jokes about how their brains are always on, thinking of a million things at once, then we limit their access to leadership roles. It’s the fucking dumbest thing in the world. Totally counterintuitive.

Those active brains help them see five steps ahead.

When tragedy strikes, they’ve already planned for three contingency scenarios. They see problems before they’re problems. That sort of intuition is an excellent advantage in life, but every now and then, it can also get in the way—especially where sex is concerned.

Sex is physiological. The brain has to step aside and let the body take over. For some women, like Amelie, that’s problematic. They need help turning off their thoughts and letting the body take over. Things like blindfolds or restraints can be helpful. Instead of dwelling on the objective of reaching an orgasm, the mind can focus on wondering what’s coming next and the sensations themselves. Things that aid rather than sabotage their own pleasure.

If there’s one thing I can say about my time in Italy, it’s that it was educational.

Italians know sex.

As I stand over Amelie and think of how I gave her her first orgasm—how I was able to do that because of what I’ve learned while I was away—I’m wondering more than ever if things happen for a reason. I’ve never been one to buy into the whole things-work-out-for-the-best. My father killing my mother was not for the best or any good at all. I don’t like the idea that it happened for a reason, and certainly not if I’m that reason.

However, I’m willing to accept that some good has come from her loss. At least from that perspective, the tragedy serves a purpose. Amelie is that purpose. She’s been through so goddamn much and stayed so incredibly strong that nothing makes me prouder than knowing I can help keep that vibrant spirit alive in her eyes. I can keep her safe and bring her pleasure like she’s never known.

I am meant for this woman, and she is meant for me.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” The second I say the words, a succulent flush blossoms on her cheeks, spreading down her neck and chest. She’s truly breathtaking.

I take the wooden spoon I found in a drawer and trail it along one of her thighs up to her delicate hip bone, then on toward her breasts. No doubt she’s consumed with trying to figure out what I’m holding and what I’ll do next. Thoughts that spark anticipation. Excitement.

While I circle each breast with the spoon, staying clear of her pebbled nipples, I reach down and cup her sex with my palm. I’m so satisfied with what I replace that I fucking purr.

“My girl is already dripping for me.” I slide two fingers on either side of her clit, slow and purposeful, then glide one of those fingers into her warm pussy.

Amelie’s back arches off the counter with her gasp. I’ve never heard of a man’s dick bursting from too much blood flow, but mine sure as hell is trying. I’m so hard that my balls ache.

I work my fingers inside her for several strokes, then use the flat side of the spoon to give a light pop to one nipple, then the other. She lets loose a throaty moan that is doing nothing for my hard-on.

“A little touch of pain feels good, doesn’t it, pet?”

She nods, her pretty pink tongue swiping her bottom lip. It makes me want a taste. I move from where I stand until I’m at her head, above her, looking down. I bend and kiss along her jaw until I’m at her lips. We’re upside down from one another, giving the kiss a whole different feel. While our tongues explore, I slide the bottom of her sports bra up above her breasts. I don’t take it off; I just move it enough to free them.

Her hands spread wide, flattening her palms against the granite as though she’s having to force herself to hold still.

“Good girl, keep those hands where they are,” I encourage, knowing a task like that keeps her active mind occupied.

When I graze my teeth over her nipples, then lick and suck them, her body truly begins to writhe with need. The pressure is building, and I’m so goddamn here for it.

I shower her breasts with attention until her moans fade to pleading whimpers.

“Please, Sante. I need you to touch me.”

“I am touching you,” I say wickedly, giving her nipple one more twist with my fingers.

The sound she makes in answer isn’t entirely human. It’s pure animalistic need—the resurgence of her primal side. Her mind has surrendered to her body, and that’s exactly what I want.

I finally move back to the far end of the island, taking in the beautiful sight of her arousal coating her and dripping down over her tightly puckered ass.

“Time to eat.” My voice has taken its own walk on the wild side, sounding half savage.

I coax Amelie’s legs over my shoulders, and she hooks her feet around my upper back. That first taste is sublime. I do one slow circle of my flattened tongue over her clit, then a languid lick along her full length.

The guttural groan of relief that resonates from her chest makes me feel like I’ve climbed fucking Everest. I dive in, working her folds, one side, then the other. When I add a finger to rub at that hidden bundle of nerves inside her, her hips begin to flex and roll. I make sure to let up every now and then, giving her body time to miss my touch and crave more. Only when the need has snowballed into an avalanche that can’t be controlled do I hold my course and drive her over that heavenly cliff.

I don’t allow the squeeze of her thighs to keep me from milking every last ounce of pleasure from her core. Her body jerks and vibrates, dancing to the music of her mindless cries.

She is unbridled beauty.

A fucking goddess.

“Absolute perfection,” I whisper against her tender flesh before finally pulling away.

I help her place her heels back on the counter and circle around to lift her into my arms. She removes her blindfold, then hugs my shoulders, resting her forehead against the side of my neck. I take her back to the bathroom and start the shower water for her. As much as I’d love to fuck her six ways to Sunday, she’s not ready.

“You get cleaned up, and I’ll order us some food, okay?”

Amelie smiles shyly, then reaches up on her toes to bring her lips to mine for one last kiss.

“Fuck, my girl is sweet when she comes,” I tease, patting her ass before I head back to the kitchen.

Before I do anything else, I grab a few paper towels and unbuckle my pants. If I don’t do something about this monster erection, it may do permanent damage. I look over at the island, reliving what just played out, and with an embarrassingly few strokes, I’m jetting into my own hand.

Jesus, I needed that.

I clean up myself and the island, which still has evidence of our earlier activities smudged on its glossy surface. Once it’s sanitized, I order Chinese, then answer a few emails until Amelie returns from her shower. She sits on the sofa beside me, though not close enough for my taste. I take it upon myself to remedy the situation. With one hand behind her back and the other around her thigh, I hoist her closer.

“Better,” I grunt before picking up the TV remote. I scroll through the apps to replace a handful of streaming services, but that’s it. “No Hulu or local channels?”

“No, the news sort of gives me panic attacks,” she admits warily. “That man does a surprising number of press conferences. I began to feel like turning on the TV was a game of Russian roulette, so I quit watching.”

“News is always depressing anyway,” I concede. I need to stay informed on local events, but checking a news app on my phone is easy enough. No reason to upset her if it’s not necessary.

Glancing in her direction, I realize she’s grinning like a kid with candy. “What?”

“I’ve felt like a freak for years because of my aversion to the news. Do you know how many restaurants have TVs playing on the walls? Lina and Oran know I hate the news but never knew why. It’s yet another one of the things that’s felt like this huge obstacle for me … until you came along. It’s like, with you around, everything is easier.”

Fuck if my chest doesn’t physically swell with pride.

“That’s the way it should be,” I mutter, not entirely comfortable with compliments. “Any man can stick his dick in a woman. There’s no real value to that. A man’s worth is in his ability to provide and protect—to make his family’s lives better.”

Again, I sneak a glance her way, and this time, that grin is practically splitting her face in two.

“What now?”

She giggles. “You callin’ me your family, Sante Mancini?” She’s teasing me, but it doesn’t feel like a joke. I wasn’t kidding when I called her my future wife.

“So long as I’m breathing,” I say without a trace of humor.

Amelie sobers. I wonder if I’ve made her uncomfortable by being so transparent, but she surprises me by snuggling closer and laying her head on my shoulder. “What are we going to watch?”

Hell, I could watch paint dry if it means being with her a little longer.

To keep from looking like a psycho, I put on a sitcom rerun and hold my girl close. I half watch while mostly thinking about how Talbot made a huge fucking mistake by sending someone to threaten Amelie. No one puts their hands on my woman.

Dumbass doesn’t know he’s only making things worse for himself. He’ll figure it out soon enough. We’ve circled him and are closing in, taking our time to make sure it’s done right. And when that time comes, he’ll never see us coming.

The thought has me in a relatively good mood when a text comes through from my sister.

Noemi: Any chance we can get together soon? I’d like to talk with you.

Tension ratchets into my neck and shoulders.

“Something wrong?” Amelie asks, making me realize I’ve audibly sighed.

“No, just Noemi.”

Me: I’m pretty busy. I’ll reach out when things settle.

It’s not a lie. Keeping eyes on Amelie is a full-time job. The bigger problem is I still feel like shit when I see my sister. She’s a constant reminder of how painfully I fucked up in my past. It’s getting better now that our official reunion is over, but I’m not jumping at the chance to feel like shit. Besides, it’s only been a few days since I saw her. She can wait a few more.

Noemi: It’s kind of important

Fuck. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Another sigh.

Me: I can come by Saturday

I don’t want to, but I can.

Noemi: How about 3? Boys should be napping then.

Me: That works. See you then

Noemi: Thank you! I really appreciate it.

I heart her reply and toss my phone aside, not wanting to think about the upcoming visit. She probably wants to ask me to be a godfather to the boys or something like that. Something that may be important but isn’t urgent. Right now, my focus is Amelie. She needs me, and I’m not losing sight of that until this shit with Talbot is done.