VINCENT VALENTINO
Cold, heartless, arrogant and insipid. Vincent Valentino, Underboss to the Italian mafia, is met with the terrible reality that he's no longer 17 anymore and therefore has to get married. But not just to anyone.
ELENA MACHINOVIA...
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My whole body fucking hurts.
I woke to the soft glow of morning seeping through the curtains, a warm embrace of sunlight that gradually dissolved the remnants of sleep.
A fleeting moment of disorientation washed over me as I took in my surroundings—the bedroom, the scent of Vincent lingering in the air.
Turning onto my side, I caught sight of him. Vincent lay beside me, the lines of his face softened in the gentle morning light.
Memories of the night before began to trickle back, the edges of desire and tension blurring into something more intimate.
The realization hit me—last night, in the quiet hours where secrets and vulnerabilities unfolded, we had crossed a line.
A quiet sigh escaped me as I traced the contours of Vincent's features, his presence a tangible reminder of the harsh fucking we had allowed to take place on this very bed.
The room, witness to our unspoken desires, and the quiet exploration of boundaries.
As I shifted, the subtle soreness in my muscles became a reminder of the intimate moments shared between us.
A mix of vulnerability and satisfaction lingered in the air. The weight of our choices settled in the room, both thrilling and unnerving.
Vincent stirred beside me, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of recognition and a subtle vulnerability that mirrored my own.
The unspoken question lingered in the air—what did last night mean for us?
We navigated the complexities of our connection, our bodies having communicated what words hadn't dared to express.
In the quiet aftermath, as the world outside continued its relentless pace, Vincent and I faced the uncharted territory of a shifted dynamic.
The lines between duty and desire had blurred, leaving us to grapple with the consequences of crossing that intimate threshold.
"Morning" he muttered.
I plaster on a smile, trying to break the awkwardness and tension hanging in the air, "Good morning." I was holding onto the sheets for dear life, the white fabric I was putting a lot of trust in, though it really didn't matter. He saw it all last night.
My back rested against the headboard, Vincent sat up, none of us talking. "So how did you—"
He cut me off, smashing my lips with his. I instantly moan and melt into the kiss. Vincent ripped the sheet off of my body, my tits falling infront of his face. "Morning sex?" I ask when we pull away.
"Fuck yes."
»»————- ★ ————-««
Vincent took the morning sex to another level and fucked me in the shower after we finished our first round. And I practically had to push him off of me.
