Giulio
This was a wedding reception. I should be drunk.
Instead, my father had cornered me to lecture about things I already knew. I smothered a sigh. No matter how much power and money I accumulated, Fausto still treated me like a kid. Which explained why I mostly stayed in Spain.
“These people, they cannot be trusted, figlio mio.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “You should—”
“Demand a meeting in a public place, then change the location several times,” I finished. “I know, Papà, I know. You’ve taught me how to do this.”
Alessio kicked me under the table. He didn’t like it when I talked back to Don Ravazzani.
Neither did my father, apparently. His ice cold gaze narrowed on me. “You think you know, and you reject my advice. But a father’s job is to prepare his son for any eventuality. Are you so eager to get shot?”
I pressed my lips together. Fausto had been in a shitty mood ever since Marcello’s birth. I knew Frankie was pissed at him, but he didn’t need to take it out on me. I put up my hands, hoping to placate him. “Mi dispiace, Papà. I heard your advice, grazie. Now may we talk of other things? I want to know if you have apologized to Frankie yet.”
Another kick from Alessio under the table. I cast him a displeased look, but he was focused on my father.
Fausto’s jaw hardened in the way it always did when he thought he was right. “I have no need to apologize.” His fingertips paused on the table, his body a statue. “Why? What has she said to you?”
This was new. He usually avoided asking me about anything related to Frankie.
“Papà,” I said on a sigh. “You know how protective she is when it comes to her sisters. She thinks you hid this from her.”
“There was nothing to tell but an absurd suggestion from two old men with very little power.”
“And yet.” I indicated the wedding reception happening around us. Emma had been forced to marry Giacomo Buscetta, despite Fausto’s wishes. “Here we are.”
“Francesca must accept this,” Fausto said, flicking his hand dismissively. “She will come around.”
“Yes, but I think she would appreciate an apology.”
He sighed, likely because he found the idea tedious. He wasn’t a man used to explaining himself. “How long are you—” Suddenly, he froze, his attention off into the darkness.
“Che cosa?” I tried to see what was happening behind me.
“Nothing,” Papà replied as he stood and straightened his clothing. He motioned to Zio Marco hovering nearby, and my uncle nodded then hurried away. “The two of you are leaving tomorrow?”
I exchanged a quick glance with Alessio, who stood. “Sì,” I answered as I also came to my feet. “In the afternoon, I think.”
“In case I don’t see you, I’ll say goodbye.” Fausto leaned in and kissed both of my cheeks. “Ciao, figlio. Be well. Come and visit me soon.”
“I will, te lo prometto. But wait, where are you going? Is everything okay?”
Instead of answering, my father dipped his chin in Alessio’s direction and strode off. I looked at my partner. “Che cazzo?”
“He saw something on the side of the house.”
“Did you see anything?”
“No, but if I had to guess it has to do with your stepmother. She disappeared from the terrace eight minutes ago.”
Not five, not ten. Eight. Alessio was nothing if not precise. Always watching, mio assassino.
I glanced around at the crowd. Remaining were mostly Mancini family men and their wives and dates. No one had dared to make either of us feel uncomfortable yet, but I didn’t need some drunk soldato growing brave enough to wander over and ask if it was true that I liked cock.
That would result in bloodshed, which Emma would hate.
“You want to get out of here?”
Alessio looked relieved. “If you’re ready, then yes.”
Long ago I had a reputation as a party boy. Nightclubs, booze and drugs . . . but I didn’t need those things anymore.
I didn’t need them because of this man right here.
“Let’s go,” I said, downing the rest of my champagne. I set the empty glass on the table with a thump and turned. Emma Buscetta was hurrying toward us.
“Hi! Giulio, Alessio, wait!” She seemed flustered, which was weird. The wedding was over. What was there to be nervous about?
“Ciao, Emma.” Smoothly, I leaned down and kissed both of her cheeks. “Have I mentioned what a beautiful bride you make?”
“You did, grazie.” Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. She pushed up her glasses and said hello to Alessio. Then she asked me, “Were you about to leave?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s been a long day and we’re both exhausted.”
While most everyone had flown in yesterday, we arrived from Spain only this morning. Alessio didn’t like Mancini’s “soft” security. I didn’t argue, but with my father’s men—as well as the D’Agostinos—on hand, the Mancini estate was well fortified.
She smiled. “I’m so glad you both came. It means a lot, and I know my father appreciated having the whole family together.”
“Of course.” I squeezed her shoulder. “We wouldn’t have missed this. You only get married once, no? Except for you and Giacomo, I suppose.”
“This is the second and last wedding, I promise.” She laughed weakly before starting to fidget, her eyes shifting like she was nervous. I sensed she wished to ask me something.
“Is there something bothering you?”
“Can I . . . speak with you privately?”
“Has something happened?”
“No. I have some questions and I think you’re the best person to answer them.”
I exchanged a quick glance with Alessio, who was overhearing this conversation and frowning. I slipped my hands into the pockets of my trousers. “Sure. Where should we go?”
“Oh, thank you. Follow me.”
We both started trailing her through the tables and around the dance floor. When we reached the house she noticed that both Alessio and I were standing behind her. She bit her lip and looked up at Alessio. “I just need Giulio, actually. You can stay at the party, if you like, Alessio.”
My man didn’t flinch. “I go where he goes. Always.”
Okay, that was hot. I liked when Alessio was protective of me.
“Sorry,” I said to Emma. “But we’re a package deal.”
For a second I thought she would tell me never mind. But she seemed to resolve herself, the determined set of her mouth indicating she would soldier through. “No problem. Let’s go to the library.”
We wound our way through the interior of the Mancini mansion. The place was too modern for my liking. Too bright, with sleek lines and stainless steel. My tastes ran toward the Ravazzani castello, old world mixed with modern conveniences.
Emma led us into the library, then shut the door. Alessio walked around the space, inspecting it, looking for threats. I dropped onto the sofa and put my feet up on the low table, while Emma went to sit in the chair opposite me.
She twisted her hands in her lap. “This is stupid.”
From what I understood, Emma was usually blunt and anti-drama. Her hesitation concerned me and I sat up. “Emma, tell me what’s going on. Is something wrong? Has Giacomo hurt you or—”
“No, no, no. Goodness, no. Nothing’s wrong.” She adjusted her glasses again and exhaled. “I need advice, and I think you’re the only person I feel comfortable enough to ask about it.”
That was weird. Emma and I weren’t close. I was tight with her older sister, Frankie. “I’m happy to help in any way I can. What’s your question?”
She snuck a peek at Alessio, who was looking out the window. He gave the impression he wasn’t paying attention, but I knew he was hyper-aware of what was going on around him.
Emma spoke quietly. “So there’s this, um, surprise I have for Giacomo.”
“Yes?” I encouraged when she didn’t say more.
“This is so embarrassing.” She rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Ah. I was beginning to understand. This was about sex.
I took pity on her. “Some people find it helpful to talk about embarrassing things in the third person, as if they’re speaking about someone else. Why don’t you try it?”
“I’m going to be a doctor. I shouldn’t be uncomfortable. I know what I’m asking about is perfectly normal behavior.”
“Then pretend I’m a patient. Or another doctor.” I made the motion of a zipper across my mouth. “And I won’t tell anyone.”
“Okay.” She inhaled and let it out slowly as her shoulders lifted. “I bought a prosthetic male appendage and a leather apparatus to hold it in place. I would like to use it on my husband. Rectally. But I haven’t engaged in that sort of activity before, so I am asking for advice in what I need to know in order not to harm him. And maximize his enjoyment.”
I soaked in all the words and tried to make sense of them.
Emma bought a . . . strap on dildo?
To use on Giacomo.
Cazzo madre di dio!
Through sheer force of will, I masked my surprise. Giacomo, you lucky man. I admired a straight man who was into having his prostate railed. I wouldn’t have thought the Sicilian capable of such enlightened behavior, but the proof was sitting right in front of me.
I tried to match her practicality. “Has your husband engaged in this sort of thing before? Or is this his first time?”
“He has done this before, but only once, years ago. It was enjoyable for him.”
“But you don’t want to rely on him to guide you through the process?”
“It’s not that.” She nibbled on her lip in a self-conscious way. “I like to understand things ahead of time. I don’t like surprises or being caught off guard. I’m much happier when I have all the information. That probably sounds stupid—”
“Emma, no. It doesn’t sound stupid at all. In fact, I think it’s admirable that you’re asking for help. I’m not refusing, just trying to understand.”
“So you’ll tell me everything I need to know?”
Alessio was very still by the window. To the casual observer, he might seem relaxed. But I knew better. My man was hearing every word.
“I’m honored that you came to me, Emma,” I said. “Of course I will help.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She frowned suddenly, like she’d forgotten something. “Do I need to write this down? I didn’t think to bring a pen or paper.”
“No, no. It’s not that complicated. You’ll remember.”
She nodded once, then held up her hand. “I do want to say up front that I’m not asking you only because you’re a gay man. Frankie has often praised your ability to give advice, and I honestly don’t know who else to turn to. I can’t ask Zani or any of the D’Agostino brothers. I’m not close with any man, save my father. And, well.”
Yes, we all knew this was a topic best not broached with fathers.
“Don’t worry about it. I understand, and like I said I’m honored.” I stared at Alessio’s wide shoulders and thought about where to start. “First, you need Giacomo’s consent. You can’t play around back there until he’s given you a green light. Capisce?”
“Of course. Yes. I would never do this without his say so.”
“Bene. Next, I assume you’re familiar with lube. You’ll need a lot of it.” When she nodded, I continued. “The best way to start is to get him relaxed. Use your fingers and tongue back there, and go slowly. Remember, it’s not a sprint. There are many nerve endings, so make sure to take your time.”
Her cheeks brightened again. “Okay, yes. That makes sense.”
“The two of you have had anal sex?”
“Yes, we have.”
“So you know it takes time. For men, the prostate is the key. You’ll want to use your finger and find it, then rub it. This will help him relax and begin to loosen up.”
“My research said it’s located about two inches on the front wall of the rectal lining and should feel firm and smooth.”
“Sì, that is correct. Keep stroking it, and don’t forget to check in with him to see how he’s feeling and to reassure him. Being penetrated like that . . . it’s not easy for every man. It makes you vulnerable and requires a great deal of trust with your partner.” Being fucked has always been hard for me, something Alessio made easier every time we were together. But I still preferred to top.
“Got it,” she said. “And when he’s ready, I lube up everything. Me and him?”
“That’s correct. Don’t be afraid of using too much. You literally can’t.”
“Okay. All of that is helpful. Is there anything else I should know? Is there a position that will be more comfortable for him?”
I thought about it. “Probably if he’s on all fours and you’re behind him. Or, reverse cowgirl can be nice. That allows him to control the angle and depth and speed.”
“See?” she said with a small smile. “None of my research mentioned that.”
I winked. “That’s why it helps to ask someone with practical knowledge.”
“Thank you. I know this is awkward, but I really appreciate it.”
“It’s not awkward for me. And I’m happy to help you, Emma. You should know that by now.” I glanced over at my man, still silent by the window. No doubt he was uncomfortable overhearing all this. I couldn’t resist needling him. “Assassino, anything to add?”
I expected him to say no, but he turned, his expression serious as he addressed Emma. “The toy, it might provide you some sensation and it might not. But it will help him to know you’re enjoying what’s happening, capisce?”
Emma studied Alessio intently, like was a professor in one of her classes, and I realized this was knowledge I didn’t possess. I’ve never been pegged by a woman. But maybe Alessio had? He had been with both women and men before he met me.
“So fake it?” Emma asked Alessio.
“No, because Buscetta will know it’s disingenuous and he won’t appreciate lies. More like you should allow yourself to get into the dynamic. Mentally,” he pointed to his temple. “The toy is not like real flesh, so you must find pleasure in what’s happening. Make sure it’s both of you together in any way you can.”
“Ah, I understand. I won’t be receiving the same sensory feedback as someone with a real penis would. So it can’t feel clinical to him. It needs to feel loving and sexy. Got it.”
Point made and received, Alessio dipped his chin and said nothing more. Heat shot through me like a blast from an oven. My man was so fucking smart. And hot. And big.
And all this talk about ass and fucking was making me think about taking him, and now I was dying for it.
I slapped my thighs and then stood. “Good luck, Emma. Your husband is a lucky man.”
“I know.” She rose and hurriedly kissed both of us good-bye. “Thanks again. See you at brunch in the morning.”
After she left, I strolled over to where Alessio stood with his feet braced apart, gaze tracking me. As usual I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but there was a slight flush to the skin on his throat just above his collar. Ah, I understood. My man was turned on.
Good.
When we were only a few centimeters apart, I touched the warm skin of his neck with my fingers, letting the pads trail over the rough whiskers. He stood perfectly still, allowing me to do as I wished, and I adjusted my hand to grip his throat. I squeezed. “I’m going to fuck you, Alessandro.”
He swallowed, the muscles of his throat working beneath my palm.
“And I can’t wait until we get to the hotel. So, the question is, where do you want it?”
Alessio
My body was on fire.
Listening to Giulio give advice to Emma was far more arousing than I expected. Patient and kind, he’d treated her problem with understanding and careful consideration, as he did most everything else. Yet he was a brutal killer. The ruthless and feared boss of Málaga. The dichotomy was fucking hot.
Now we were alone with his hand wrapped around my throat, and there was nowhere on earth I’d rather be.
“I’m going to fuck you, Alessandro.”
The words were simple and to the point. My dick began swelling and I swallowed the needy moan threatening to leave my lips. Did he expect me to argue?
He leaned closer. “And I can’t wait until we get to the hotel. So the question is, where do you want it?”
We were still at Mancini’s estate, the reception outside loud and annoying. I wanted to get Giulio someplace safe. I didn’t trust these Canadians.
All my guns were at the hotel.
But the look on his face? The one that said he wanted to tear me apart?
I couldn’t resist it.
“The washroom,” I croaked.
His lips curled into a sensual smile. He was so handsome that it sometimes took my breath away. “Va bene, Alessione.”
The pet version of my name, one only Giulio used, turned my knees to water. I needed him so fucking desperately, my cock was already weeping for it. I licked my lips. “Please, principe.”
Angling up, he bit my bottom lip. “Get moving.”
I stepped back, my body buzzing with adrenaline. The map of the mansion’s interior was embedded in my brain from my research. I knew all the ingress and egress points, the best places to hide—and where the washrooms were located.
I picked one and started walking there.
He was behind me, trailing me. I could feel him like a second skin. Giulio had always affected me like this, and probably always would. Whenever he was in the vicinity, I was on edge, aware. Hyper vigilant.
Horny.
The washroom was unlocked and empty. I went in and stood by the sink, waiting. Giulio prowled inside, his bright eyes dark with lust. He locked the door and closed the distance between us, and my heart crashed against my ribcage.
“Mio assassino,” he purred and cupped my jaw with his big hand. “Is your dick hard?”
I nodded once.
“Show me.”
I quickly unbuckled my belt and unfastened my trousers. We were both wearing suits and ties, more clothing than our usual shirts and jeans. As I fumbled with the fastenings and zipper, Giulio slipped out of his suit coat. The way he wore clothing, like the fabric was made just for him, was something to behold. He really could’ve been a world-famous male model.
Whipping off his tie, he tossed it onto the counter. “For later.”
I took out my cock, which was already stretched tight, and presented it to him. He kept his hands by his side and stared down at me, making me ache for his touch. He liked this game, where he turned me inside out with my need for him.
“I think you could be harder, Alessione. Why don’t you suck me for a bit?”
Oh, fuck. He really was in a mood tonight.
I let go of my shaft and dropped to my knees, my cock hanging out in the cool air. I loved blowing him. It reminded me of the night we’d met in a Málaga club, strangers seeking pleasure in the darkness. I tore open his trousers, eager like a teenaged boy.
“Slowly.” He put a hand on my head. “Hands behind your back. Nuzzle me first.”
I obeyed, clasping my hands behind my back. I put my face in his crotch and rubbed against the soft cloth of his trousers. He was only half hard, but I was determined to show him how much I adored him. I used my nose along his length, down to his balls, my breath soaking through the fabric.
“Cazzo, that’s nice.” He petted me, stroking my hair. “You belong on your knees in front of me, amore.”
Yes, I did. I never tired of it, and it seemed fitting as he was the Ravazzani prince. Giulio’s cock grew steadily harder, thicker, as I worshipped him. I longed to taste him, to take him in my mouth. I wanted him desperate to fuck me.
I nipped his sac with my teeth.
“Minchia!” He jerked, a tremor going through him. “You are impatient. Allora, you may take it out, assassino.”
I wasted no time in opening his trousers and freeing his thick cock. It was smooth and perfect, with veins running along the side to his neatly trimmed pubic hair. He lifted his shirt out of the way and I waited, ready for instruction.
His expression softened as he stared down at me. “So obedient, my little slut. You need my cock in your mouth, no?”
I kept my eyes locked with his, my fingers holding his shaft. My own dick was throbbing, leaking, begging for attention of any kind. “Sì, principe,” I said softly.
“Open,” he instructed as he eased forward. The crown bumped my lips so I parted them to draw him inside, using my tongue along the underside. He exhaled on a long groan. “Hmm, that is nice.”
He withdrew and popped free of my mouth. “Again. Deeper.”
I widened my jaw and opened for him, and he quickly took advantage, shoving deep. He did this a few more times, pulling completely out before sliding in again. I sucked harder, trying to keep him in my mouth, and he grunted as he wrestled free.
“I like seeing your spit all over my cock. It’s fucking hot when you work this hard.”
Holding his gaze, I gathered spit in my mouth . . . then let it dribble onto his dick.
“Cazzo madre di dio,” he whispered, his expression slack with surprise and desire. “Get up. Chinati! I need to fuck you right now.”
Bending, he yanked me to my feet then spun me around to face the counter. “Hands flat on top,” he ordered and I hurried to obey. Cristo, I loved bossy Giulio.
He dragged my trousers and briefs all the way down to my ankles. Cool air washed over my overheated skin and I shivered in anticipation. His big hands ran up my legs until he reached my ass, then he dropped to his knees as he spread my cheeks open.
The first brush of his tongue over my hole felt like an electric shock. But he didn’t stop there, and I stared at my reflection in the mirror, not really seeing, blinded by pleasure. He licked me, using the pressure of his tongue to open and relax me, but I’m too worked up. Each swipe was torture, what I really needed just out of reach. “Principe,” I gasped. “Sprigati!”
But he wouldn’t be rushed.
He kissed and licked my rim until I was limp and whimpering, barely able to stand on my feet. Finally, he rose and I felt the cool drizzle of lube in the crack of my ass. Giulio never went anywhere without a travel packet of lubricant these days, but I never complained. I loved fucking in unexpected places, something he often took advantage of. Public parks, in cars and washrooms . . . Once we fucked in a museum. That had been so fucking hot.
I heard him adjust his clothing, then there was the blunt tip of him at my entrance. “No fingers this time,” he said, the set of his jaw unforgiving in the mirror. “I want you to feel every millimeter, assassino.”
Oh, shit.
I watched him in the mirror. He held his dress shirt out of the way so he could watch as his crown breached my hole. The burn caused me to wince, but I never closed my eyes. So I saw his expression slacken in bliss as my body clamped around the tip of his cock. Dio, his beautiful face. I could stare at him for years and never tire of it.
He rocked a little at a time, sinking deeper with each tiny movement. I settled, my mind letting go. Something inside me craved this closeness, this submission to him. It was familiar and necessary and so perfect.
“There you go,” he praised quietly, still watching where we were joined. “Take my cock. Let me fuck you and come inside you.”
Two more thrusts and he was fully seated. The pressure inside me was unbelievably good, the burn making me feel alive. I loved him with every part of my soul. When our eyes met in the mirror I smiled slightly.
He smoothed his palms over my back. “You want it hard, no?”
We’d done this often enough that he knew exactly what I was feeling and thinking. I nodded once. “What if someone out there hears us?” He tilted his head toward the hall door.
“I don’t care.”
He gave me a quick thrust that rattled my teeth and sent my hipbones crashing into marble. “You don’t mind if someone hears you being my needy little slut?”
A wave of desire rolled through me at his words. “No.”
Giulio’s hips pressed forward again. “Cazzo, you are so perfect.”
He began fucking me in earnest then, sharp punches of his cock that hit my prostate every time. The image of him in the mirror blurred, my eyes unfocused as the pleasure built in my groin. Our skin slapped together, and anyone on the other side of the door would definitely know what we were doing. I didn’t mind. In fact, that only made this hotter.
“Ti prego,” I begged. “More.”
Instead, he paused and pulled on my shoulders until I was upright. His cock throbbed in my ass, a reminder of who was in charge, and I sucked in a ragged breath. He nipped my ear with his teeth. “What do you need, troia?”
“You,” I answered immediately. “Please, principe.”
“Be more specific.”
“Scopami forte. Ti prego.”
“That’s not what I want to hear.”
I squirmed, desperate for friction against my prostate. It was almost painful with how much I needed it. But he held my hips in an iron grip, not letting me move. I closed my eyes. “Fuck!”
Suddenly, the knob rattled as someone tried to come in. When the door didn’t open a knock sounded. “Is someone in there?”
It was a man, but I didn’t recognize the voice. Giulio and I both froze, our gazes meeting in the mirror.
Giulio was the first to recover, a devious smirk twisting his handsome face. He shoved deep, hitting the perfect spot inside me. I grunted, despite my best effort to remain quiet.
“Hey, hurry up!” a Canadian-accented voice ordered on the other side of the door as he knocked again. “I need to piss.”
Giulio bent his knees and thrust up once more, and we crashed into the wooden cabinet front with a thump. He grabbed my short hair and pulled my head back, fucking me with three hard jabs of his cock. By the sounds we were making, it was more than obvious what we were doing. My skin sizzled with danger, fire licking through me at the threat of being caught.
“Goddamn it, buddy,” the voice in the hall said. “You couldn’t bust your nut somewhere else? Jesus Christ. Fine, I’ll go find another bathroom.”
He must’ve walked away, but we didn’t notice. Giulio kept impaling me on his dick, our grunts growing louder. I couldn’t take much more. “Oh, god.”
“What do you need, Alessione?”
I spoke through panted breaths. “Your come. Inside me. Now.”
“Then hold yourself open and show me.”
Without hesitation, I dropped my chest onto the counter, reached back and spread my cheeks apart. “Good boy,” Giulio said approvingly. “Now stay like that and I will give you what you want.”
His hips began churning even faster and soon he moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t hold back. It’s too good.”
He shoved forward and I felt his cock swell and pulse inside me. I couldn’t see the mirror, but I could imagine the expression on his handsome face as he emptied inside me. I sagged as he finished, my ears ringing as lust clawed inside my gut. I was out of my mind with it, ready to come with one stroke of my dick.
When his climax ended he pulled out and spun me around. I expected him to gloat or engage in some dirty talk while he jerked me off. But he surprised me.
He dropped to his knees.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered as my man swallowed me down. Wet heat surrounded my cock, and my muscles locked up in surprised delight. “Minchia!”
He sucked like it was his purpose in life and the pressure was too good, too steady. Combined with the sight of him on his knees for me, il bel principe, and I was lost. I watched him pull on my cock with his lips, his beautiful mouth working me, and I couldn’t stop the orgasm from erupting. My balls constricted and come shot out of my tip and onto his tongue. I groaned as my body convulsed, jolt after jolt rocking me to my toes, and Giulio took all of it, drinking me down.
I slumped against the counter, totally wrecked. I could feel his jizz leaking from my hole. Giulio suckled me softly, like he was reluctant to let me go, so I stroked his hair. “Ti amo, principe.”
He gave me a fond smile as he rose. “Non posso vivere senza di te.” I can’t live without you.
I snagged his hips and pulled him in for a rough kiss. He tasted like the two of us, a familiar flavor after this long together, one I would never tire of.
When we broke apart he chuckled. “That guy was really pissed off.”
“It was hot. I don’t mind.”
“You love being watched as you get fucked.”
I did. We both knew it, so I didn’t bother correcting him. I turned to clean up, but he put a hand on my arm. “Che cazzo?” he asked sternly.
I frowned at him. “Giulio. It’s a wedding reception.”
“I don’t care. I want to walk back out there knowing you’re filled with my come, that it’s drying on your thighs.”
“You’re evil.”
“I am Il Diavolo’s son, after all.”
I hitched my briefs and trousers up, wincing as the fabric instantly grew wet. “Dai. Do not bring up your father while I’m soaked in your come.”
My man just smiled. “I think we should go dance.”
I gaped at him. “You want to dance, the two of us. In front of all the guests?” The probably very homophobic guests.
“Yes.”
“Giulio—”
“I don’t care,” he said sharply. “The straight people get to dance. I should be able to do the same.”
So stubborn, my principe. But he wasn’t wrong—and I would love to hold him close on a dance floor just once in our lives.
“I don’t have my guns,” I pointed out as we left the washroom.
“You won’t need them.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I said nothing as we headed back out to the terrace, where the music and dancing was still going strong. I was thankful my trousers were black, because I could feel how wet the cloth between my legs was becoming as we walked.
He took my hand and led me out to the dance floor. It was the first time he’d touched me in front of the guests all day. I curled my fingers around his, grateful for such a simple yet meaningful gesture. When we found a space between the other couples he stopped and faced me.
The song was a slow one, and we came together at the same time, each drawn to the other. There was no hesitation in his expression, only a fierce pride and determination, as we found an easy rhythm, our bodies moving as one. As if we’d done this a hundred times, my arms clasped around his waist and he slid his arms up around my neck.
There were a few whispers and stares. One couple left the dance floor. I barely noticed. I was focused on this incredible man, the music, and the stars above our heads.
Suddenly, Emma and Giacomo were dancing by our sides. “Good to see you two out here. You’ve got some moves, Alessio,” Emma teased, nudging my arm with hers.
Giacomo didn’t say much, just nodded, but the approval went a long way in my book. They were showing their support for us, and that was what mattered.
“You don’t mind if we offend your guests for a little while?” Giulio asked.
“You’re not offending anyone,” Giacomo said with absolute certainty.
“And if you do, screw them,” an older woman woman said in Italian. It was Giulio’s Zia, who was dancing with a Mancini soldato.
Giulio’s jaw fell open. “Zia! Language!” The old woman winked at her nephew and moved away.
I stared into my man’s eyes, taking in the joy in his expression. A zap of electricity went through my chest—colpo di fulmine. It was similar to the lightning strike that hit me the first time I saw him on the streets of Siderno. I needed to always see him this happy.
The words popped out of my mouth. “Will you marry me?”
He stumbled but quickly righted himself. “This is how you ask me, assassino? While we are at another wedding? As an afterthought?”
“Not an afterthought.” I leaned in and put my mouth near his ear. “I am asking you under the stars, your body pressed tight to mine, your come leaking out of me. I am yours, il bel principe. Per sempre. Now I want to make it official in front of your family and God.”
He sighed, his warm breath on my neck. “And I am yours, assassino. Per sempre. So I have no choice but to say yes.”