Made for Him: A Mafia Baby Romance (10 page)

I raise his hand from my heart to my lips and kiss his palm.

“And I promise to give you a Catholic wedding when we get home,” he says. “But I wanted us to have this. Just us and our little one inside your belly. Just us and the ocean.”

“I’d like that too,” I say, meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything.

Hands laced together, we turn and face the chaplain, ready to begin our new life.

I
hear
a stirring from the other side of the bed, the unmistakable diaper rustle of a stretching baby followed by a short, sleepy fuss. Jessica lets out a world class sigh—her own version of a sleepy fuss—and then gently scoops our daughter out of the co-sleeper attached to her side of the bed. Before long, Elisa and her mother are snuggled back down, Jess on her side facing the baby, and the baby nursing noisily next to her.

I smile and move closer to my wife, pressing my body against her back. These are my favorite parts of the night; the quiet, slow moments when I can nestle against the woman I love as she nurses my firstborn child. I stroke Jessica’s arm as Elisa finally slows down, pulling off abruptly to squawk at the ceiling.

I chuckle—Elisa’s three-month-old chatters are my favorite sound in the world—but Jessica heaves another giant sigh. “Why won’t she go back to sleep?” Jess groans, and I don’t need to see her to imagine the frown on her lovely face.

With a kiss on her shoulder, I roll out of bed and walk around to the other side. “I’ll rock her. You go back to sleep.”

“Mmph,” is all I get after I pick up Elisa and her blanket. Jessica rolls over, the covers hiked up to her shoulder, and all I can see of her when I sit down in the glider is her mass of thick blond hair.

Elisa continues to coo in my arms as we start rocking. I sing back to her, crooning a low Italian lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me, making sure that she’s completely warm and comfortable in her blanket.

She looks more like me than Jessica—that was apparent even before she was born and the delivery nurses started exclaiming about her full head of dark hair. Her skin has my darkly Mediterranean tone, and her eyes have stayed the same deep blue of newborns, just like mine. But there’s so much of Jessica in her too—the full swoop of her little lower lip, the heart shape of her face, the way she glares at me sometimes if I don’t get to her fast enough with a bottle or a fresh diaper.

I wanted to name her Isabella, after my mother, and Jessica wanted to name her Elena, after a character on a vampire show she watches, but we ended up naming her Elisa, after my grandmother. Now I can’t imagine any other name for her.
Elisa
seems stamped onto her very features, in her long, dark eyelashes and chubby cheeks.

After about ten minutes of rocking, Elisa’s coos fade away, and she silently blinks up at the ceiling, each blink getting slower and further apart until, finally, her precious blue eyes close and she’s breathing deep baby breaths. But as I get up to put Elisa in her co-sleeper, proud that I’ve given Jessica a short respite, my wife sits up in bed with an unhappy expression. Without a word she gets out of bed and shuffles grumpily to the shower.

As I hear the water start hissing, I lay the snoozing Elisa down, and then I pad into the bathroom to see what woke Jessica up. I pause at the entrance to our walk-in shower, leaning against the wall and taking in the view of Jessica washing herself. She’s not intentionally trying to be sensual--I can tell from her slow movements and hooded lids that she’s still half-asleep--but goddamn, that woman can’t help but be sexy to me no matter what she’s doing. Her tits are full and heavy, and her pregnancy with Elisa gave her wider hips and a softer stomach--all things that make me want to pin her against the wall and get her pregnant again.

I like that idea a lot, actually.

Without a word, I strip out of the loose linen pants I wear to bed and my boxer briefs, and then I join her, running my hands along her soapy shoulders and pressing my lips to the side of her neck.

With a sleepy, contented purr, she leans back against my bare chest, allowing me to slide my hands to her breasts, where I cup them carefully in my hands. Her nipples stiffen the second I run my thumbs over them.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask in her ear.

“I tried to, but I kept leaking milk all over myself. I decided to go wash up.”

“That’s a shame,” I murmur.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to get you dirty again.”

She gasps as I pinch her nipples and then drop a hand to find her clit, which I start rubbing gently. With a moan, she spreads her legs and leans against me, and I slide my other arm around her stomach to keep her upright as I finger her.

Her head drops back against my shoulder.

“That feels good,” she breathes.

“You deserve to feel good,” I tell her. “You deserve to be pleasured. Taking care of Elisa all day, taking care of the house, taking care of
me
…” I nuzzle her neck as my fingers work faster over her swollen bud. “I’m going to give you everything, princess. Let me give you everything.”

“Okay,” she manages, her hips squirming against my hand. Her soap-slicked ass grinds against my exposed erection, and I bite back a groan.

Fuck,
that feels good.

“Matteo,” she says, not as a prelude to anything else, but more like my name is a lifeline, a word to anchor herself against the onslaught of pleasure. I nibble at her neck, holding her tight against me so I can grind against her ass as I coax her to orgasm.

For a minute or two, there’s nothing but the wafting steam and the sound of water against tile, but then the white noise is broken open by a sharp cry as Jessica comes against my fingers. She bucks wildly, panting and moaning, and unable to resist, I slip a finger inside her cunt to feel it fluttering and releasing.

Satisfied that I gave her what she needed, I press a palm in between her shoulder blades, forcing her to lean forward and brace herself with her hands against the shower wall. She’s still panting when I fist my root and slowly nudge myself inside her hole, but her panting stops the moment I fully press inside. Neither of us breathe until I’m fully sheathed in her, and even then, it’s hard to make myself inhale. Her pussy is so warm and wet, so tight and soft, and it takes everything I have not to start pounding towards the climax coiling at the base of my spine.

Instead, I coax her to lean over more, and I thrust slowly in and out, the kind of thrusts that lovingly caress her g-spot. I’m doing it to be a thoughtful lover and husband, yes. I’m also doing it because I love watching the way her ass presses against my hips as I push in and feeling the way her pussy grips my cock as I slide out.

“I love this pussy,” I growl at her as I continue riding her with long, steady strokes. “I love it so fucking much.”

“Go harder,” she begs, trying to press back against me. “Deeper.”

I deny her, continuing with the steady, even movements, and I give her ass a hard slap for asking.

She yelps.

“You want to come again, don’t you, princess?” I ask in a silky voice. “You want me to make you come with my big cock. But I’m not going to give you the kind of easy fuck you’ll forget about in ten minutes. I’m going to give you the ride of your life. I’m going to make it so you can’t even fall asleep after because your body is still buzzing.”

“You’re so mean,” she exclaims, but her conviction is stolen away by the moan that follows her words as I fondle her breasts.

“You won’t be saying that later,” I promise her. And I mean it. She’s my wife, the mother of my child, the one purely funny, intelligent, bright spot in my life. And if the least I can do is give her breathless, full-body orgasms in the middle of the night, then you better believe that I’ll do it.

I do it right, making it long and excruciating, feeling every press and squeeze of her pussy as I move in and out. I hiss at the feel of her ass pressed against my hips, bite my lip when I go so deep that I can feel the firm entrance of her womb, dig my fingers into her hips as the running water accentuates the nipped hollow of her waist and the juicy curves of her ass. She’s so
woman
now, so deeply, undeniably female. Maybe it’s biology, or just the way I’m wired, but as much as I loved her firm body before our baby, I’m fucking obsessed with her new mother’s body. She’s so soft and squeezable and receptive, so deliciously female. I could stare at her forever, grope her eternally, fuck her always, and my dick would still never get enough.

We go long, until goosebumps cover her arms and a flush deepens her cheeks. Until my balls are aching and my groin feels like a storm about to break, and the instant I find her clit with my fingers to push her over the edge, she tumbles into her orgasm, her screams echoing against the tile.

She clenches around me, tight and frantic, her fingertips scrabbling at the tile as she endures onslaught after onslaught of deep pleasurable contractions, her pulsing channel suddenly melting into the softest, hottest home for my dick.

I live for that softness, crave it like an addict, because nothing,
nothing
, feels like a sated pussy on your cock. I let go of all control now, once again using my forearm to hold her upright because her knees have started to buckle, and I rut into her like an animal, pound into her cunt like a man possessed.

Her pussy is like hot silk, and the rest of her has gone ragdoll, and she’s murmuring my name, begging me to come. And at long last, I feel the storm break and I spurt long, thick shots of cum deep inside her. My balls are contracted tight against my body and I keep thrusting hard, riding her until every last drop has been milked from my cock.

It isn’t until the hard, fierce pulses of my dick subside and I can feel my cum dripping back out of her that I slow down and eventually stop. I never want to stop, really, I could fuck Jessica forever, but I make myself pull out and set her down on the corner ledge of the shower.

After washing myself up, I kneel and tend to her, cleaning the sweet pink folds of her cunt with a fresh, soft washcloth. The act makes me hard again, and she spreads her legs wide in wordless invitation. I waste no time in using her pussy once again, this time able to watch as that pink heaven welcomes me inside. I come hard after only a few minutes, my fingers digging into her thighs and my lips against her neck.

I give her a third orgasm with the detachable shower-head, and after that, I am pleasantly surprised to find that I have to carry her back to bed. She’s nothing but limp muscles and clean skin and happy sighs as I lay her down. Much better than earlier, plus Elisa is still snoozing deeply in her co-sleeper.

Life doesn’t get much better.

As soon as I slide between the sheets, Jessica makes a nest for herself in my arms, laying her wet blond head on my chest.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you too. God, I hope I made you pregnant again.”

I can feel her laugh vibrating against my chest. “You’re an insatiable madman. How many more babies could you possibly want?”

“How many bedrooms does this house have? Multiply that number by two.”

“I’m beginning to think you have a pregnancy fetish.”

“Nope. Just a Jessica fetish.”

She turns her head to press her lips against my chest, and then snuggles in with a happy humming noise. “I think maybe three Mafia babies is my limit.”

I quirk an eyebrow even though she can’t see it. “Mafia babies? And I suppose this is my Mafia house, and you’re my Mafia wife? And every morning for breakfast I eat Mafia oatmeal?”

“I’m glad you finally see reality.”

I laugh softly, stroking her damp hair. In the dark, the blond turns into a dark gold, and it looks and feels like I have a fairy tale princess cuddled against me. But no fairy tale princess I know can shoot a gun or rattle off Shakespeare quotes or give me casually genius business advice like my Jessica can.

My Mafia wife is better than any fairy tale.

“You know,” I say slowly, still rubbing her hair between my fingers, “I used to think that controlling the city, owning the city, was the most important thing. I didn’t care about myself or what my own personal future looked like, so long as it meant I had the city. When I knew that having a child with you would be the easiest way to get leverage over your uncle, I didn’t hesitate. I never cared about marriage or love, and marrying you would just be one more business move. I made my move without hesitation but without any joy. But then we were together that night…”

“Yes?”

“And something changed. I saw you, I saw your bookshelf, I felt your lips against mine, and it finally happened.”

“What did?”

I smile in the dark. “I cared about my future. I cared about having you in it. If I hadn’t gotten you pregnant that month, I would have tried and tried again. I told myself at first it was because I needed to win the war, but by the time you showed up in my office with your test, I knew the truth. I would have found any excuse to keep chasing after you. To keep falling asleep with you in my bed.”

Jessica kisses my skin again. “You wouldn’t have had to do much chasing. I was obsessed with you afterwards. Plus I’m pretty sure it was
my
bed you fell asleep in that first night.”

“Princess, the word
bed
,” I breathe, reaching a hand down her body and finding her still-slick cunt, “is a metaphor.”

And then she’s on her back, and I’m on top, mounting her, my hand over her mouth so she doesn’t wake the baby with her moans. I breach her wet, secret place, going as deep as I can, and she wraps her legs around me.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” I vow. “And in return, you’re going to say something when you come. What will you say, princess?”

I lift up my hand and she purrs, “Your name.”

I turn that purr into a gasp with a sharp thrust of my hips, and already she’s squirming and needy underneath me.

And within a matter of minutes, my name is gasped at my ear,
Matteo Matteo Matteo
, and it’s so fucking hot, so fucking primal, to have my name stamped all over her orgasm. But at the end of it all, when I come and release inside of her, it’s only her name I remember,
Jessica Jessica oh fuck Jess fuck yes.

I’m still inside her, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and my heart still racing, when Elisa starts stirring again, her stirring turning into squalling in a matter of seconds. I pull out with a groan and roll out of bed to clean myself up. By the time I get back, Jessica is holding the baby out to me with a raised eyebrow.