Matty moved a tad bit faster, a barely noticeable increase. Genna dug her rigid nails into his back, repeating her words.
"Please, Matty. More."
If he heard her, he certainly didn't listen, because he kept moving at the same pace. Genna gave him a moment, thinking maybe he was just trying to get his bearings, figuring he'd pick it up soon enough, but when it didn't happen, she lost a bit of her patience, realizing it was intentional.
He was being careful. Too careful.
"I'm not breakable," she said. "You're not going to break me. I'm pregnant, not helpless."
Matty pulled back a bit, propping himself up on his elbows, as he stared down at her. After a moment, he kissed her lips, softly and sensually, barely a peck before whispering, "I know."
Yet he went right back to what he'd been doing.
"I swear to God, Matteo Barsanti," Genna growled. "If you don't fuck me—"
In a blink, Matty shoved her knees up, opening her legs wider, as he slammed into her. Genna gasped, eyes widening with surprise, as he looked down at her, his expression serious. "Is that better?"
Genna nodded. "Uh-huh."
A smile cracked his face. Leaning down, he kissed her, a few quick pecks. "Whatever the lady wants."
That was it. Those were the last words spoken. Genna's knees were forced against her chest, her legs over Matty's shoulders, as he thrust hard... as he started fucking her. She whimpered, grasping at his skin. He gave her all of himself, not holding back, but he never went too far.
He was still, somehow, careful.
He knew her limits. He knew her needs. He knew what made her tick. He knew what she wanted from him. And he gave it to her—fucking her, yes, but with mercy. Fucking her so she knew who was in control, so she knew he wouldn't dare hurt her.
The pressure built inside of her, an orgasm coming on. She clung to Matty, gasping, as it rocked through her. Her body convulsed with pleasure, and Matty let out a throaty groan. It didn't take him long after that. Her orgasm was just waning when he let loose. Genna felt him spilling inside of her, the warmth spreading between them. He nuzzled into her neck, grunting, forcing her legs so far against her that her thighs ached.
After a few more thrusts, he stilled, just lying there.
"Matty?" Genna whispered.
"Yeah?"
"You're killing my legs."
He laughed, letting go of her, and pulled out as he moved. Flopping over on the bed beside her, he stretched out and closed his eyes. Genna rolled over onto her side, gazing at him. Sweat glistened from his skin. He hadn't stayed clean long after that shower. Her eyes scanned him, from his face and down his chest, drifting right toward his cock. She let out a laugh, shaking her head.
How was he still so hard?
"Never—and I mean never—look at a guy's dick and laugh. That's just all sorts of messed up."
Genna's gaze drifted back to Matty's face, seeing his eyes open again. "Did it bruise your ego?"
"I've got no more ego left to bruise," he said. "I left it back in New York, along with everything else… certainly my pride and most of my common sense… probably my dignity, too."
Genna smiled. "You've got me, though. And we've got this place. That counts for something, right?"
"Counts for everything." He squeezed her to him, kissing the top of her head. "Who needs self-respect when you've got decent sex and a half-ass working air conditioner?"
Business as usual.
As Dante stood in front of the open refrigerator in the kitchen, he realized life had continued as usual around there. Every day was like the one before it, like nothing had changed.
Like everything was normal.
Leftovers piled the shelves. The kitchen was stocked full of groceries. Wine had even been chilled. Primo Galante hadn't missed a beat. Life went on. The world kept turning. The calendar affixed to the wall had been changed, the month flipped.
Time hadn't stopped for them.
Dante shifted through the containers of food. Not that he was hungry, but he couldn't remember the last time he ate something that wasn't Jell-O.
The pizza from Nurse Russo.
Spaghetti. Lasagna. Some other kind of pasta. None of it caught his attention. Definitely not the chicken salad… he couldn't stand the sight of it. He grabbed a bottle of water and took a sip, hoping it would help settle his stomach.
The faint sound of footsteps registered through the downstairs, reaching Dante's ears as they moved through the foyer,