Mila: The Godfather (Unholy Trinity Book 7)
Mila: The Godfather: Part 2 – Chapter 70

MILA

“You taste like heaven.” — R

“This shit is kind of soothing.” I smile, watching Riagan’s large, tattooed hands kneading the dough. He woke up cheerful today and told me he was spending the whole day with me. He said it would just be us and that we could do whatever I wanted. I wonder if he feels bad about what happened yesterday. He shouldn’t, and I told him that, yet I can’t help but notice how there’s no one in the mansion with us today except for his father and his most trusted men.

No one else.

Not even the rude man who threw a tray at me while I was quietly painting on my own or his house staff.

I wonder what happened to the man— Mitch. I’d never spoken a word to him before yesterday, but I also remember not being rude to him. I try my best to smile at everyone and to always be kind.

I kept thinking about his reaction to my spacing out and how it might’ve looked as if I was ignoring him, but that doesn’t warrant what he did. I remember the look on his face, and it was as if he enjoyed frightening me. It reminded me so much of all the times back home when my father and his men would yell or make fun of me because I didn’t answer fast enough.

Yesterday started as a great day, but then it turned ugly until Riagan came home.

The feeling of shame disappeared as soon as he took me away and held me until I fell asleep. Nothing hurts when he holds me. He makes everything better, and that makes me love him more because I know that, with him, I can be myself—the good and the bad— and he still has my back. He proves it every chance he gets.

That is why I chose to stay home today.

I wanted to spend it with my favorite person.

Although, I wonder, if the activity I chose was a big mistake.

A shirtless Riagan with messy hair, mixing and kneading bread, has my heart rate spiking.

Weird.

My breasts feel tight, and my breath hitches every time he rolls the dough through his fingers like an expert. It makes me think of all the dirty things he has done to me with those fingers.

“Share a fun fact with me, butterfly.” He suddenly says, stopping me from fantasizing about his skilled fingers.

Share a fact with me, butterfly.

Beaming, I think about it for a second, looking at the pile of warm bread we baked thus far.

“Riagan, do you know how old the oldest bread is?” I ask while adding more flour to the mix. We have more than enough, but I thought it would be nice to give some to his men-slash-friends.

“How old?”

I sprinkle a pinch of salt on his mixture because, somehow, he keeps forgetting the steps I taught him to bake bread. I don’t mind helping him. It warms my heart that he’s here with me instead of running his city and his many businesses. “Archaeologists found the scraps of what is believed to be flatbread around a fireplace at a Natufian hunter-gatherer site called Shubayqa, located in northeastern Jordan. It’s believed to be around 14,400 years old.”

“That’s old as fuck.” He seems surprised.

“It is.” I smile up at him, finding him adorable with flour on his face.

“Can I ask why you love bread so much?”

“You can ask, yes.” He laughs, and my smile widens. “And I like it, but I’m not crazy about it.”

“Then why did you want to bake bread today?”

“It reminds me of my sister.” I shrug. “She loves bread. All kinds of bread.” I take a bite of the warm goodness and moan out loud. We baked this. I feel proud.

“Arianna?” He makes a face as he can’t see my big sister being a fan of bread.

“No, not Arianna.” I move toward the oven and check on the cupcakes we threw in there before starting the bread. Cupcakes, I love. Cupcakes, I go crazy for. “Kadra.”

“Ah.” He breathes out while working on the mixture.

A moment of silence passes before he asks me. “You miss your sisters a lot, huh?”

My chest feels tight when I think of them. When I miss them, but I know we’ll meet again soon when we’re all in a better place. Our one-day basking in the sun together will come. I know it. “Very much.”

“You’ll see them again. I promise you that.” I didn’t realize I had spaced out.

“I know.” I craned my neck all the way back so I could look at his face. God, he is so tall.

“You have that much faith in me?” He gives me a crooked smile.

“I have all my faith in you.” I blurt out. He grows silent, and I wonder if I said something that made him uncomfortable, but then he growls, and the sound causes my whole body to vibrate and come alive before he leans down and kisses my mouth.

After a long while, he pulls back and releases my lips. Instantly, I miss his warm mouth. “Mila.”

“Yes, Riagan?” I breathe, looking into his eyes before I look at his mouth.

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh,” I wasn’t expecting that. Pointing at the mess of baked goodies on the kitchen counter, I reply. “Then eat. It’s all done except for the—” Before I can finish my sentence, he grabs my butt, lifts me, and drops me on the marble counter.

“Oh, I’m eating alright.” Confused, I look at his mischievous grin and sparkling blue eyes, and it dawns on me.

The other kind of hungry.

“Oh…”

I was definitely not expecting that.

Riagan

“No,” I said. “Let me look at you.”

She squirmed underneath my penetrating gaze.

“When you look at me like that, I feel vulnerable,” She admits, her lips pursing as she looks away.

I catch her chin with my free hand and direct her to look at my face again.

When she looks up, the vulnerability in her eyes makes my heart jolt.

“I want to do nothing more than to make you smile. Give you everything you could ever want. And make you happy all at the same time,” I tell her. “When you look away from me, I feel like I’m doing something you don’t want me to do,” I tell her.

She licks her lips, then reaches for me, her hands going to either side of my head as she pulls me closer.

When my mouth is only inches from hers, she says, “I like everything you do to me. Everything.” I guide her legs around my waist. When I have her where I want her, I reach for her hands that are still on either side of my face, using only my body to hold her in place.

“If at any time you feel that we should stop, for any reason at all, even if you’re uncomfortable that I’m looking at you too intensely, I want you to say something. I’ll stop.”

She groans and leans forward so that her forehead is resting against mine. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Riagan O’Sullivan.”

I grin and press forward, allowing my hard cock to dig into one of my happy places. Her sweet pussy.

“I love the way you look at me. Even when, at times, it feels like it’s too much. I don’t want you to look away. Just keep looking at me.” She tells me honestly.

That’s all I need from her. All I need is to start taking off my clothes right here, in the middle of my kitchen. When I am naked in front of her, the look on her face would’ve been enough to make me hard had I not been in a constant state of arousal whenever she was around. Hell, whenever she breathed near me.

“You’re looking at me like you’re about to devour me,” she whispers shyly.

My hard cock is nestled between her folds, and my upper body is pressed against hers.

Looking at her, completely at my mercy, drives me insane with need.

Then, I kiss her.

Long. Deep. Wet.

When her tongue tangles with mine as she slowly starts to heat up beneath me, I start to rock my hips back and forth. She’s wet.

Really wet.

So wet, in fact, that, with each rock of my hips, she covers my cock with more and more of her juices until I know that if I angle my hips just right and adjust my angle, my dick will slide right inside her with little resistance.

My wife must’ve had the same thought right around the same time, too, because between one thrust and the next, I went from outside of her hot pussy to inside.

She gasps, her mouth pressing against my throat. “Oh, wow.”

I pull out slightly, smiling, and sink back inside, just a little deeper this time than before.

“Fun fact about penises,” she murmurs. “Did you know that there is a thing such as a death erection?”

Without much thought, I pull out and then slam back in, taking every available inch of space inside of her and more. “There is?”

“Oh, wow!” she squeaked as she dug those nails in deeper. “Yes! It is also called angel lust or terminal erection. It happens moments after death.”

I did not know that.

I bend down and bite her shoulder, then pull back to lick the skin. “What made you look up fun facts about cocks, butterfly?” I ask while looking at her clit. Her pussy. How great she looks stretched around me.

She groans and lifts her feet to dig into my thighs. “I was just curious.”

I can’t think straight or focus on her facts now.

Her pussy is rippling around me, and her nipples are pebbled into hard little peaks that just beg for my attention. But I don’t move or change my angle because before the thought could even enter my mind to grab those perky nipples, her body starts to convulse around me.

My balls draw up at that thought, and before I can think better of it, I am coming.

It was perfection every time.

“You make me feel like a fucking king,” I whisper while biting her ear gently. I triumphantly smile when I feel her shiver in my arms. “Like I’m on top of the world.”

After are were both spent, we lie on top of the counter, covered in bread mix and flour, panting, and trying to catch our breaths.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” She whispers so softly I almost miss it.

I hope they did.

It might make me seem like a sick fuck, but I would love it if my men heard the sounds of pleasure coming from my wife. Heard all the dirty shit I did to her.

“Riagan?” she slaps her hand on my chest, catching my attention.

“Probably, baby. You were pretty fucking loud.” And hot. So fucking hot. I don’t tell her that.

Then my wife hides her face in my neck and groans with embarrassment, but not me.

I just laugh, hug her closer, and think to myself: how the fuck did I get so lucky?

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