Infamous Desires: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Arranged Devotion Book 3) by Kit Shepard

Author:Kit Shepard [Shepard, Kit]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-07-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Lazzaro

Abright white ceiling greets my dry eyes. Several minutes swim by before I recognize where I am, and how I got here. I’m not sure what make and model ran me over last night, but I do know that my wife was behind the wheel.

My wildest fantasies about Aurora turned out to be tame. She dripped on my tongue like honey. I would have spent hours eating her out if I hadn’t caved and let her touch me. The second she had her mouth on my stomach, I was powerless. Since when could I get hard twice in one night and wake up twice as hard?

I groan as I sit up. The muscles of my lower back chastise me for sleeping too soundly. The top sheet covers my lower half as if it were a concession prize. I’m nothing but a means to Aurora’s ends. Last night changed nothing for her—that was just how she fucks. With passion, impatience, and confidence.

Aurora, who’s currently using the comforter to cosplay as a worm, shuffles beside me. She brushes the blankets away from her head like she is pushing hair out of her face.

“Is it time to get up?” she asks and yawns. Her nose scrunches up as if she’s annoyed.

“No. Sleep as long as you want to.” It doesn’t matter what needs to get done today or if check out is at eleven. If Aurora wants to sleep in, then she will get to.

She smiles like she caught me zoning out mid-conversation. She doesn’t have a clue that when we’re in the same room she is my focus. “I worked at a doughnut shop. I went to work at four every morning.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to bed or waking up at the devil’s true hour.” I cough and collapse back on the pillow she didn’t manage to steal. Not that I’d care if she had.

Aurora burrows back into the bundled blanket. “I liked it. Got to see my brothers before they crashed. Sometimes, I had dinner with them. Or made them breakfast when I got home.”

“I didn’t marry you so I’d have a cook. Don’t feel like you have to do any of that shit for me.”

The mattress vibrates with her laughter. Apparently, something I said was the funniest thing she’s ever heard before. Irritation from being laughed at and fuzzy satisfaction at the musical tones of her joy mush up my insides.

“Trust me,” she says through pants of breath, “they weren’t demanding me to cook or clean for them. I fed them because I wanted to. I wasn’t joking when I said they would have died from scurvy without me.”

“So if they piss off Siro, he just has to bide his time for however long it takes a nutrition deficiency to kill a bull?”

She bursts out laughing again. Good lord, she has a sense of humor that rivals an enforcer’s. That’s a terrifying realization. Those men are in a class of their own for a reason. I’ve always privately wondered if the role was created solely to keep them busy and away from the rest of us.

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