Signed To The Mafia King - Chapter 30: Chapter 30

LUCA
I barely made it out of the room.
My breath was ragged, my eyes blurry with lust, my cock so hard it hurt. I had to force myself to walk, my legs stiff, every muscle in my body rejecting my decision to leave.
I should have made love to her.
I should have buried myself deep, should have ripped off those tight little pants and taken what she had been so ready to give.
Instead, I walked away.
Why?
My fingers were shaking at my sides as I stepped into the hall. I couldn’t even fucking think straight.
Her taste, the sound of her moans, the way she had looked up at me with her lips stretched around my cock; it was burned into my skull, running in my mind, driving me mad.
Pietro was still standing outside the door. He straightened when he saw me.
I barely looked at him as I grunted, “Give her a few minutes. Then bring her to the car.”
He nodded, but I caught the look of unease on his face.
It was enough to finish what little patience I had. I was so angry at myself that I needed someone to take it out on. I didn't mind using Pietro.
My head jerked up, and I stepped toward him. “If anything had happened to her, I would have had your fucking head. I promise you.”
Pietro’s throat moved up and down as he nodded. “I…”
“You knew where she was,” I cut in, lethally close to blowing my top. “And you didn’t tell me. You fucking hung up on me.”
His eyes couldn't hold mine. He looked away, then at the floor. His jaw was tight. “She ordered me not to.”
I scoffed, my nostrils flaring. “And I’m supposed to give a shit about that? You obey me. Damn it, she's my wife.”
She's my wife.
Why the hell didn't I take her then?
She had been ready, willing, legs spread, begging even.
Pietro shook his head, but he kept his mouth shut. Smart.
I hissed and stepped back. “Get her now. Knock first.”
Then I turned and walked toward the door.
The second I stepped out, the chill evening air hit my face, but it did nothing to cool me down. My body was still high on adrenaline, still burning.
I pulled the car door open without waiting for the driver to do it. Sliding in, I ran a hand through my hair and leaned back against the seat.
My fingers drummed against my thigh, my cock still aching, still rock hard.
I needed to focus.
I thought to call Marco to be sure the guns were distributed; to handle the business waiting for me. I probably had a ton of missed calls.
But I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus.
My mind was stuck. On her. On her fucking mouth.
I had always had access to sex.
I had taken women apart in this very car. In the back of the club. In dark corners of hotel rooms. But this?
This was different.
Just her mouth around me had nearly made me lose it.
If she hadn’t gagged, if I hadn’t known she wouldn’t be able to swallow my cum with her mouth filled with my cock, then we definitely would’ve had sex.
I groaned, my head hitting the back of the seat.
I would have come in her mouth.
And she would have taken it like a good girl. My good girl.
I cursed under my breath, my fingers clenching into fists again.
She was barely twenty-four. When the fuck had she learned to suck cock like that?
The thought twisted something ugly in my chest.
My teeth gritted. My jaw locked.
Fuck.
I was possessive of her past.
Of something that had happened before I even met her. Before she had ever been mine.
My head dropped back again, eyes squeezing shut.
I was losing my mind.
The sound of the door opening made me open my eyes.
Pietro stepped out first, followed by Alina.
My entire body woke up again. My cock, which had been starting to go soft, hardened instantly.
She looked like the last few minutes hadn’t even happened.
Her blazer was straightened, her hair smoothed back.
My jaw ticked.
She wasn’t even breathing hard.
Meanwhile, I was sitting in this goddamn car, barely able to think, my cock still straining against my pants like I was a fucking teenager.
Alina stopped at the door, and Pietro opened it for her.
She barely looked at me as she entered, her smell wrapping around me.
I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to look straight ahead. If I looked at her, I would fuck her in the car.
And why couldn't I? What made me hesitate? What made me want to protect her?
To keep her clean and unsoiled by my bloody hands?
She was too pure for me, that much was certain.
The ride back was going to be fucking torture.
From the corner of my eye, I watched her.
She wasn’t looking at me. Her body was stiff, arms folded tightly over her chest.
Her feet were shaking, and she was staring out the window like she was trying to burn a hole through it.
She was angry.
I swallowed, tilting my head back against the seat.
She had every right to be.
I had been the one to pull away. And even I was furious that I had.
My hands curled into fists. I should have fucked her.
She had been ready. Wet. Open. Wanting me.
And yet, I had stopped.
I wondered why again. I needed to understand it. It made no sense.
I had liked the way she had been looking at me, liked the way her body was so responsive and open to my touch, liked how fucking perfect she had felt in my arms.
And that scared the shit out of me.
I forced myself to focus. I needed to say something.
“Alina.”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t even pretend I had spoken.
She was shutting me out.
I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.
I deserved that.
I had left her hanging after all.
My hand reached for hers, but the second my fingers brushed her skin, she jerked hers away.
My eyes snapped open.
She was still staring outside, but her fingers were curled into fists in her lap, her shoulders rigid.
I clenched my jaw and tried to take her hand again.
She flinched and turned to me. “Leave me alone,” she snapped.
I froze.
Her eyes were blazing, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling fast.
I wanted to apologize.
The words were on the tip of my tongue, but they wouldn’t come out.
I had never been good at apologies.
Instead of speaking, I grabbed her wrist.
I could feel the pump of blood under her skin, see the way her chest moved faster, like she was trying to control her breathing.
Then suddenly, she turned to me fully. “So, are we not consummating this marriage?”
I blinked. What was she talking about? “What?”
She didn’t blink. “I said, are we not consummating our marriage? Will you not want heirs?”
I stared at her. I had no idea where this was coming from.
Her eyes narrowed slightly like a new idea had occurred to her. “Or is it that you do not want me?”
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
She leaned in, her eyes locked on mine. “Because if you didn’t want me, you should have said that before agreeing to marry me.”
My jaw went slack.
Was she fucking serious?
I dragged her into my chest. My heart rammed against my ribs.
“You think I don’t want you?”