Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 101

Aria’s POV

The clock on the nightstand read 11:47 PM when I heard the soft click of the front door closing downstairs. Damian was finally home from whatever business dinner had kept him out until nearly midnight. I'd been waiting for hours, my nerves stretched taut with anticipation and purpose.

Tonight has to be different, I told myself as I adjusted the silk negligee I'd chosen with careful deliberation. The champagne-colored fabric was barely there, clinging to my curves in ways that left little to the imagination. Tonight I need to make him want me so desperately that he can't think straight.

The urgency I'd felt while holding Jessica earlier that day had only intensified as the evening wore on.

I heard his footsteps on the marble stairs, slow and measured. He was probably exhausted from hours of navigating whatever political minefield constituted a Cavalieri family business dinner. But exhaustion could be overcome. I'd learned that much about powerful men—they were never too tired for the right kind of motivation.

The bedroom door opened quietly, and Damian stepped inside, already loosening his tie with one hand while checking his phone with the other. He looked every inch the dangerous prince he was, all sharp edges and controlled power even at the end of a long day.

"You're still awake," he observed, glancing up from his device. Then his eyes found me properly, and his movements stilled completely.

I was perched on the edge of our massive bed, the silk negligee riding high on my thighs, my hair falling in loose waves around my shoulders. I'd spent an hour perfecting this calculated display of availability.

"I was waiting for you," I said, my voice deliberately breathy. "I missed you tonight."

Something shifted in his dark eyes as he took in the sight of me. The phone disappeared into his jacket pocket, forgotten.

"Did you?" His voice carried that low, dangerous quality that always made my pulse quicken. "And what exactly did you miss?"

I rose from the bed slowly, letting the silk slip and slide against my skin as I moved toward him. "Everything about you," I whispered, reaching up to help him with his tie. My fingers worked at the knot while I pressed myself against him, feeling the solid warmth of his chest through his expensive shirt.

His hands found my waist immediately, fingers digging into the silk with barely restrained hunger. "You're playing with fire tonight, Aria."

"Maybe I want to get burned," I murmured against his throat, letting my lips brush his skin as I spoke.

The effect was immediate and electric. His grip tightened, and I felt rather than heard the sharp intake of breath that meant I'd pushed exactly the right button.

"Careful what you ask for," he warned, but his hands were already moving, one sliding up to tangle in my hair while the other traced the line of my spine through the thin fabric.

"I know exactly what I'm asking for," I said, pulling back to meet his gaze directly. The hunger I saw there made my knees weak, but I forced myself to stay focused on my goal. "I want all of you tonight, Damian. No holding back."

"You want all of me?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "Then you'll take all of me."

What followed was unlike any of our previous encounters. His hands were everywhere, claiming and possessing with an urgency that matched my own desperate need.

"Dio mio, you're perfect," he growled against my skin as the negligee became nothing more than champagne silk pooled on the floor. "Perfect and mine."

I gasped, arching into his touch.

The words seemed to unlock something primal in him. His mouth found mine in a kiss that was all heat and demand, his hands mapping every curve and hollow of my body like he was trying to memorize me by touch alone.

"Tell me what you want," he commanded, his lips moving against my throat in a way that made coherent thought nearly impossible.

"You," I managed, my voice breaking on the single word. "Just you."

"More specific, bella. Tell me exactly what you need."

The directness of the demand should have embarrassed me, but instead it sent a jolt of pure electricity through my system. "I need you inside me," I whispered, the words coming out in a rush. "I need to feel you, all of you, until I can't remember anything else."

His response was immediate and overwhelming.

I could feel his thick cock ramming into me again and again.

"Perfetto," he murmured against my ear, his voice ragged. "I love seeing you cry when I fuck you. You don't know how beautiful you are right now."

I was speechless and whimpering as he fucked me, but I felt my body responding to these words.

The night became a blur of sensation and whispered commands, of desperate kisses and urgent movements that spoke of needs too deep for words. When exhaustion finally claimed us just as dawn was breaking, we were both spent and satisfied in ways that went beyond the physical.

The next evening, I was ready for him again.

"Insaziabile," Damian observed with amusement as I appeared in another carefully chosen piece of lingeri.

This time it was black lace lingerie with a pair of black stockings underneath. I was a little shy at first, but Damian pushed me onto the table and tore my stockings off from behind with his hands. I felt my ass and pussy completely exposed to him.

"You look ready to be fucked." He didn't even lubricate himself, plunging his fingers into my pussy.

My pussy purred.

"Do you hear your body's thirst?"

I blushed and said nothing.

He slapped my ass.

I cried out.

"Good girl." He grabbed my neck from behind, his other hand pumping my pussy.

My legs began to tremble, and I could feel my juices flowing between my legs. Without warning, he inserted three fingers, and soon I was cumming, slumped over the table.

The second night was even more intense than the first.

"Sit on my lap," he commanded, holding my waist, then letting me move on my own.

"Oh no. Too deep." I tilted my neck back.

I've forgotten how many times I orgasmed that night. I just remember squirting all over the bed. And as I walked to the bathroom to shower, I could feel the friction of my labia, which was completely swollen from Damian's fucking.

Oh, and speaking of bathrooms, we even had sex in the bathroom, and I was covered in his marks.

By morning, the sheets were twisted beyond recognition and we were both marked with the evidence of our passion—small bruises and scratches.

The pattern continued for the rest of the week, each encounter more raw and unrestrained than the last. I discovered a side of myself I'd never known existed—demanding, insatiable, willing to beg for what I needed.

"On your knees," Damian commanded on the fourth night, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you want this."

I obeyed eagerly, my hands working to free him from his pants while he watched with dark satisfaction. "That's it. Take what you need."

"What's gotten into you?" he asked later as we lay tangled together, his fingers tracing the marks he'd left on my skin.

"Maybe I'm finally admitting what I really want," I replied, which was true enough even if it wasn't the complete truth. "Maybe I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not."

"And what are you?" he asked, his thumb brushing across my swollen lips.

"Yours to do with as you please," I answered honestly, feeling the truth of it in my bones.

The fifth night, he bent me over the edge of the bed, his hands gripping my hips as he took me from behind with an intensity that left me screaming his name.

"Louder," he demanded, one hand tangling in my hair to pull my head back. "I want everyone in this building to know who you belong to."

I felt him ejaculating again and again, pouring into my pussy and flowing out of my hole, getting all over the place.

By the sixth night, we'd abandoned any pretense of restraint. I was covered in his marks, my body aching deliciously from his possession, and still I craved more.

On Sunday morning, I made my way to the pharmacy with hands that shook slightly from both exhaustion and anticipation. The pregnancy test felt impossibly heavy in my purse as I walked back to the penthouse, each step bringing me closer to an answer that could change everything.

Please, I thought as I climbed the stairs to our bedroom where Damian still slept, his dark hair tousled against the white pillows. Please let this week have been enough.

Because if it wasn't, I'd have to find the strength to do it all over again. And I wasn't sure my heart—or my body—could survive another week of such beautiful, desperate intensity.

The test kit sat unopened on the bathroom counter as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Soon, I would know if my gamble had paid off. Soon, I would discover if the future I was trying so desperately to secure was finally within reach.

All I had to do was find the courage to look.