Chapter 31: Domenico - Marrying the Mafia Daddy

Fuck.

I stop moving immediately, buried partway inside her, every muscle in my body straining against the instinct to move.

“Breathe, baby.”

I start to ease back, but Kira’s fingers tighten around my shoulders. “No.” Her eyes remain squeezed shut as she sucks in a shaky breath. “Don’t pull out. Just… stay there.”

The restraint is fucking excruciating. My cock is inside her—not all the way, not even close—and she’s so tight around me it’s like being gripped by a fist. Hot, wet, clenching around my dick in slow, involuntary pulses that make my vision blur.

My hips want to thrust. My body wants to push deeper, take more, claim every inch of her. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to move, and instead I’m holding perfectly still with my weight braced on my forearms and my jaw clenched so hard I can hear my teeth grinding.

“Look at me, baby,” I rasp. “Open your eyes.”

Slowly, she peels her lids back until her hazel eyes find mine.

“You’re doing so well,” I tell her. I lean down and kiss her mouth, soft, just a brush of my lips against hers. “You’re taking my cock fucking perfectly.”

Her breath hitches. I kiss her again, longer this time, letting my tongue slide against hers until she relaxes into it. Then I move to her jaw, her throat, pressing my mouth to the pulse beating wildly beneath her skin.

My hand finds her breast, cupping the flesh as my thumb circles her nipple until it hardens under my touch. The small gasp she makes goes straight to my cock, and I have to grit my teeth again.

“Breathe,” I tell her. “Just breathe, Kira. Let your body adjust.”

I feel it happening in stages. First her hands relax on my shoulders. Then her thighs, which had been clamped around my hips, loosen by degrees. Her breathing steadies, the shallow rhythm giving way to something deeper.

The tension is bleeding out of her muscles one by one, and I can feel the difference in the way she holds me. She shifts her hips. Just a tiny movement, experimental, and her eyes flutter.

“It’s getting better,” she whispers. “Mm, a lot better, Daddy.”

Relief hits me so hard it’s almost physical. I press my forehead to hers, our breaths mingling, and for a second I just exist in the space between us. Her pussy around my cock. Her hands on my skin. The sound of her breathing, steady and sure.

“Tell me when,” I say.

“When,” she breathes. “Keep going.”

I push another inch of my cock inside her, watching her face for any sign that I’m hurting her again. Her lips part. Her eyes stay on mine, and there’s no pain there now—just a dark, hungry focus that matches what’s burning through me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I groan. “Your tight cunt’s squeezing me so hard, baby.”

Another inch.

Her inner walls clutch at me, gripping my cock with a slick, relentless pressure that makes my thighs shake. Sweat beads along my spine and forehead from the effort of moving this fucking slowly. Everything in me wants to bury myself to the hilt and fuck her until she screams.

Instead, I push deeper. And deeper. Until I’m fully inside her, my hips flush against hers, my cock buried so deep every involuntary clench of her cunt grips me from base to tip. I force myself to hold still. Because if I move right now, fuck, I’ll lose whatever’s left of my control and fuck her senseless.

“Fuck,” I breathe. The word comes out ragged. “You feel incredible.”

The view of her beneath me—spread open, her dark hair fanned across the pillow and her lips parted on a gasp—nearly undoes me completely.

Her hips shift again. A deliberate roll this time, testing, and the friction draws a low moan from her throat.

“Mmm, Daddy,” she whines. Her voice has an edge to it now. Impatience. Hunger. “Stop treating me like I’m going to break.”

The words land like a match to gasoline. Something hot and possessive flares behind my ribs, and the last thread of my restraint snaps.

Fuck, if those words don’t send an inferno through my blood. My hips snap forward, driving into her with a force that makes the headboard hit the wall. Kira gasps, her back arching, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to break skin.

Then she moans. Long and low and filthy, the sound vibrating through her chest and into mine, where we’re pressed together.

“Fuck, yes,” she pants. “Just like that. Don’t stop, Daddy.”

I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

Her cunt is gripping my cock with every thrust, hot and slick and so fucking tight I’m seeing stars, and the way she moves beneath me—hips rising to meet every drive, her body taking everything I give her and demanding more—makes me fucking ravenous.

Her hands claw down my back. “Harder,” she demands, her voice breaking on the word. “Please, Daddy, harder.”

The word lights a fuse that burns straight through to my cock. I grab her hips and fuck her harder, deeper, each thrust driving the breath from her lungs in punched-out little moans that I want to bottle and keep.

“Who do you belong to?” I growl.

“You,” she gasps. “You, only you.”

“Mmm, be a good girl and rub your clit for Daddy.”

I keep driving into her as she slides one hand between us and finds her clit. The second her finger presses against it, her entire body jolts, her cunt clenching hard around me. The movement makes the air hiss out of my lungs, and I have to pause for a moment so I don’t come.

“How does it feel?” I pant. “Is your greedy pussy ready to come on my cock?”

“Y-yes,” she cries. “Oh, God. I think… I’m almost… I need… Daddy!”

“Mmm, that’s it, baby. Come for me.”

While she rubs her swollen clit, I slow my thrusts just enough to keep from coming. Seconds later, my wife comes, her cunt clamping around my cock so fucking hard my rhythm stutters. Her back bows off the mattress as a cry tears from her throat.

“Daddy!”

Fuck.

I grit my teeth and fuck her through it, feeling every pulse of her orgasm around my cock while her thighs shake against my hips. By the time she collapses beneath me, panting and boneless, I’m hanging onto my control by a fucking thread.

I barely give her time to catch her breath before I flip her onto her stomach.

“Get on all fours,” I order, slapping her ass once.

She squeals and hurries to do as I say. I grab her hip, line myself up, and push back inside her in one deep stroke.

“Oh, fuck!” I groan.

The new angle takes me deeper, my cock hitting somewhere inside her that makes her cry out, and I set a pace that has her scrambling for purchase on the sheets.

Kira starts pushing back against me almost immediately, matching every thrust. I let go of her hip and fist her hair at the root.

“That’s it, baby,” I groan. “Fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock.”

I pull her hair back until her neck arches and her spine curves into a perfect bow. The exposed line of her throat is too much—I lean down and bite it, not gently, and the sound she makes is half sob, half scream.

“Oh God. Domenico… I… mm.”

“Open your mouth,” I command, pushing two fingers against her lips.

She eagerly does as I say, and I push the fingers into her mouth, hooking them over her lower teeth and holding her open. Her tongue works between them as I fuck her, saliva gathering faster than she can swallow until it spills over her lip and trails down her chin.

Fuck.

I keep her like that for another few thrusts just because I fucking can. Watching my wife like this—fucked-out, drooling, taking my cock and my fingers with the same desperate hunger—nearly ends me, and eventually I have to remove my fingers.

“I want to come again,” she gasps, her voice deliciously raspy.

“Do you want Daddy to rub your clit?”

“Mm, yes.”

I move my hand between her thighs, pinching and flicking her clit until her inner walls clamp around my cock.

She comes with a sharp cry that she tries to muffle against the pillow until I pull her hair harder and tell her to let me hear it. She does. Fuck, she does, and the sound of her coming apart on my cock is the best thing I’ve ever heard.

Instead of stopping, I continue to rub her clit. Another orgasm hits—or maybe I’m just prolonging the one she’s already having. I honestly can’t tell.

Either way, her pussy grips me so hard I have to grit my teeth to keep from following her over the edge. Her thighs are shaking, her entire body trembling with the force of it, and I keep my fingers on her clit until she’s gasping and pushing weakly at my hand.

“Too much,” she pants. “I-it’s too sensitive.”

I release her hair and catch her wrist. “Another one,” I insist.

“No, it’s too sensitive.”

“I. Said. Again,” I growl.

Her hips jerk against my hand as I continue to rub her clit. Her protest quickly turns into demands for more.

“More,” she gasps. “Fuck, Daddy, more.”

Fucking greedy girl.

I keep up the firm, deliberate strokes while my cock remains buried deep inside her. She screams. Actually screams, the sound tearing from her throat raw and unfiltered, and her next orgasm hits her like a freight train.

Her body convulses, her inner walls spasming around my cock in waves that don’t seem to end, and she’s begging now—wordless, desperate pleas muffled against the mattress while I work her clit until she’s shaking too hard for me to keep touching her there.

As soon as I pull my hand away, she sags beneath me, trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

I’m so fucking close I can taste it. But I want her on her back so I can see her face. I hook an arm around her waist and roll us, keeping myself buried inside her until she’s on her back beneath me. I throw her legs over my shoulders and slam into her over and over.

My control is gone, completely gone, burned away by the sight of her coming apart on my cock, and when I feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, I don’t fight it.

I drive into her as deep as I can go. “Fuck! Baby! I’m going to fill your cunt with my cum.” And I come with a groan that tears out of me.

“Yes, Daddy,” she moans. “Fill me.”

And I do just that. Pulse after pulse lands deep inside her as her pussy milks every last drop from me. For a few seconds, I can’t think. Can’t move. Can’t do anything except feel her around me and the aftermath of what we just did shaking through both of us.

When I finally pull out, my cum follows—a warm rush against her inner thigh, and every instinct in me rebels at that.

Mine.

That’s my cum inside her, and the thought of it leaking out feels wrong.

I press two fingers against her opening, pushing the cum back inside her. I keep my hand there long after I need to, refusing to let it spill out.

Kira makes a soft, exhausted sound beneath me. Her body is limp, her breathing slow and deep, and when I finally withdraw my fingers, she doesn’t even flinch. Just lies there, thoroughly fucked.

And the sight of her like this—mine, completely mine—settles something in my chest that’s been restless for as long as I can remember.

The intensity fades slowly, like a tide pulling back. Kira still lies on her back, one arm now flung above her head, her breathing deep and even. Exhausted and thoroughly satisfied, if the way she’s barely moving is any indication.

When I brush a strand of hair from her face, she cracks a smile that’s pure mischief despite her obvious fatigue.

“Still with me, wife?” I ask with a smirk.

“Mm.” She doesn’t move her arm. “Barely. You might’ve killed me.”

“Good thing I didn’t. I’d miss you.”

That gets a laugh out of her—soft, drowsy, the sound of someone too spent to muster anything louder. I press a kiss to her shoulder and slide off the bed.

The bathroom light is too bright. I dampen a washcloth with warm water, wring it out. Before I stride back to the bedroom, I look down and run a finger through the small smears of blood on my softening cock.

Possessiveness stirs again.

Kira hasn’t moved when I return to the bedroom. Her legs are still parted, and my cum and a tiny bit of blood leak from between her thighs.

Pure fucking perfection.

Getting back on the bed, I settle between her legs and wipe her clean. I check the places I know will be tender—the inside of her thighs, her pussy, the small red marks my fingers left on her hips.

She makes soft sounds when the cloth passes over sensitive skin, little hums of pleasure-pain that make my mouth twitch.

“Sorry about the lingerie,” I murmur, wiping a streak of cum from her inner thigh.

She moves her arm enough to playfully glare at me. “Liar,” she yawns. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“I’m not,” I agree. “But I’ll buy you more.”

“No zippers,” she says. “I hate that. And no buttons either.”

“I promise.” I grin.

That earns me another smile, lazy and content, and she lets her eyes drift shut while I finish cleaning her. When I’m done, I toss the cloth toward the hamper and climb back into bed.

Kira rolls toward me without being asked. I pull her against my chest, her back to my front, my arm around her waist, and she fits against me as if she were made specifically for me. Her hair smells like sex and vanilla, and I breathe it in while my hand traces idle patterns on her stomach.

We lie like that for a while. Quiet, and neither of us seems inclined to break the silence. But eventually, she does.

“You know,” she says, her voice sleep-thick and warm, “I think I could get used to this whole marriage thing, Daddy.”

I trace my thumb over her stomach. “Does it ever bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“Calling me Daddy. After everything with your dad.”

“No.” The answer comes without hesitation. “Dad and Daddy are… they’re not the same thing to me. One’s the man who raised me. The other’s…” She trails off, and I feel her smile against my arm where her face is pressed. “The other’s the man who just fucked me through the mattress and is currently holding me like he’s afraid I’ll float away.”

I huff out a laugh. “Good to know.”

She shifts in my arms, turning to face me. In the dim light, her eyes are dark, unreadable, but the smile on her face is unmistakable—wicked, teasing, the particular grin she wears when she’s about to say something that will either make me laugh or groan.

“You know what’s funny?” she says. “If we ever have kids, they are absolutely not allowed to call you Daddy. That’s my thing. They can call you… I don’t know, Pop. Or Sir. Something dignified.”

A laugh bursts out of me, genuine and unfiltered—and Kira’s grin widens at the sound of it.

Kids…

I haven’t thought about having more. Paolo is grown, and I figured that part of my life was finished. But a kid with Kira? Her eyes. Her stubborn fucking mouth. Her temper.

I look down at my wife curled against me, already halfway to sleep.

Why the fuck not?