Chapter 140 140

Chapter 140 140
Mia
The sensation is overwhelming. The contrast of the cool breeze on my skin and the inferno of his mouth is dizzying. He eats me like a starving man, devouring my juices, his tongue plunging into my hole, fucking me with the same rhythm he uses with his cock.
"Taste so good," he mumbles against my flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through me. "Sweetest pussy in the world."
He moves his mouth lower, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin between my pussy and my ass. My breath hitches. He knows what I like. He knows every dirty, dark corner of my desire.
"Sandro, please..."
"Please what, kitten?" he asks, pulling back slightly to look at me. His face is slick with my arousal, his eyes wild. "You want my tongue here?"
He presses a wet kiss to my tight asshole, sending a jolt of pleasure so sharp it borders on pain.
"Yes! Yes, please!"
He smirks, a dark, arrogant curve of his lips. "Since you asked so nicely."
He dives back in, his tongue circling the tight ring of muscle, pressing against it, demanding entry. I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his shirt, moaning into the night sky. It’s filthy. It’s depraved. Him, the Mafia Don, knelt on the cold stone, rimming his pregnant wife on the terrace while the waves crash below. It’s perfect.
He pushes his tongue inside, fucking my ass with the wet, stiff muscle, while his thumb comes up to rub my clit. The dual stimulation is too much. My legs start to shake uncontrollably.
"That’s it, Mia," he growls, his voice muffled by my ass. "Let go. Come for me. Cover my face."
His words push me over the edge. My orgasm slams into me, violent and overwhelming. I scream his name, my body convulsing, my pussy gushing, cumming hard and fast. He holds me through it, his mouth never leaving me, drinking everything I give him, prolonging the pleasure until I’m a sobbing, trembling mess.
As the waves of my climax subside, leaving me limp and breathless, he stands up. He catches me as I sway, holding me tight against his chest. He kisses me, forcing me to taste myself on his lips and tongue. It’s musky and sweet, a potent reminder of what he just did to me.
"You taste like heaven," he murmurs against my mouth. "But I need more. I need to be inside you."
He spins me around, bending me over the heavy wooden dining table. The edge digs into my hips, but I don’t care. I need him too. The emptiness inside me is aching, a void that only he can fill.
I hear the sound of his belt buckle, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet night. Then the zipper of his trousers. He kicks my legs wider apart, positioning himself behind me. I can feel the heat of his body, the sheer size of him as his cock brushes against my ass.
"Look at this view," he says, his hand gripping my hair, pulling my head back so I can see the dark ocean stretching out before us, the horizon lit by the pale stars. "The world at our feet. And you, mine to take."
He lines himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging at my entrance. He’s huge, hard as steel, throbbing with need. He pushes forward, stretching me open, sliding inch by thick inch into my tight, wet heat.
"Fuck, you feel good," he groans, his grip on my hip bruisingly tight. "So tight. So wet. This pussy was made for my cock."
I moan as he fills me completely, the sensation of being so full, so stretched, intoxicating. My inner walls clench around him, trying to pull him deeper, trying to keep him there forever.
He doesn’t wait for me to adjust. He starts to move, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud, obscene, mixing with the sounds of the ocean. He fucks me hard, deep, the way he knows I like it when I’m like this—pregnant and hormonal and desperate for him.
"You take it so well, little kitten," he grunts, his rhythm punishing. "Taking my cock while you carry my child. You’re a fucking goddess."
The table rocks beneath us with the force of his thrusts. I can feel the orgasm building again, a slow, tight coil in my belly, spiraling outward. His hand leaves my hip and reaches around to find my clit, rubbing it in time with his strokes.
"Sandro... I’m... I’m gonna..." I gasp, my fingers scratching uselessly at the tablecloth.
"Yes, come for me again," he commands, his voice ragged. "Squeeze my cock. Milk me dry."
He thrusts harder, faster, hitting that spot deep inside me that makes me see stars. The coil snaps. I cry out, my body seizing up, my pussy clamping down on him like a vice as I cum again. The sensation is blinding, wiping out everything but the feel of him inside me.
"Fuck! Mia!" he roars, his rhythm faltering.
He buries himself deep, his cock pulsing as he finds his release. I feel the hot spurts of his cum coating my insides, filling me up, marking me as his. He collapses over me, his chest heaving against my back, his weight solid and grounding.
We stay like that for a long time, tangled together in the aftermath, listening to the crash of the waves and the ragged sound of our own breathing. The cool breeze feels good on my overheated skin.
He presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck, then another to my shoulder. Slowly, he pulls out of me, and I mourn the loss of the connection. He helps me stand, turning me around to face him. He tucks himself back into his trousers, then pulls my dress down, covering me up. He looks at me, his eyes soft, a small, tender smile playing on his lips. He reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
"I love you, Mia," he says, his voice quiet but fierce. "And our Daphiana."
He looks back toward the house, toward the nursery where our daughter will sleep. "We’re going to be happy, kitten. I promise you that. No more ghosts. Just us."
I lean into his touch, closing my eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over me. The past is still there, etched into stone and memory, but it doesn't scare me anymore. We have named it. We have claimed it. And now, looking out at the dark, endless sea with Alessandro’s arms around me and his child growing in my womb, the future doesn't scare me either.
"Let's go to bed, Sandro," I whisper.
He nods, taking my hand. "Let's go home."
Together, we walk back into the house, leaving the empty dinner plates and the lingering scent of jasmine on the terrace. The nursery door is still open, and as we pass it, Alessandro stops. He pulls me inside for a moment, just to look at the pink letters on the wall one last time.
Daphiana.
The name hangs there, bright and beautiful in the moonlight streaming through the window. A promise kept. A future secured. He kisses my forehead, his hand resting possessively on my belly, and in that quiet gesture, I know. The war is over. The darkness has receded. And here, in this white room on a cliff in Palermo, our life has finally begun.