Filthy Marcellos: Antony Read online

  “Don’t move them,” he murmured.

  “So bad,” she repeated.

  Antony chuckled darkly. “I wonder how loud you would have to be before someone noticed, Cecelia?”

  “Jesus, stop it.”

  “Guess we’re going to find out.”

  “Oh my—”

  Cecelia’s words cut off with a quiet intake of air as Antony’s hands skimmed under her silk dress, using one hand to palm the roundness of her ass while his other traveled between her thighs, spreading her legs further apart. With his fingers, he skimmed the line of her panties, feeling his wife’s wetness already soaking through the thin fabric.

  “Fucking hell,” Antony said in a groan. “You’re wet already. I didn’t think this got you hot.”

  “It really does.”

  “I’ll remember that for the next time. God knows fucking you during it all will make these goddamn shows more bearable for me.”

  Cecelia answered him with a breathy laugh that melted into a low moan when his fingers slipped under her panties and stroked her drenched pussy. He spread the fleshy lips of her sex while his other hand pushed her skirt up higher, exposing her backside covered in lace. Cecelia arched her back in response, causing her ass to grind against his hard cock.

  “Keep it up, Cecelia,” Antony said, his tone warning.

  “What will you do, Ant—”

  He thrust two fingers into her sex without notice, feeling her pussy clench around his digits as her juices smeared to his palm. Leaning over her back, Antony fucked his wife with his fingers and used his other hand to hold her jaw and keep her eyes on the show below. He soaked in every shudder of her walls around his fingers and all the quiet moans she kept trying to hold back as he worked her sex with an unrelenting pace.

  Cecelia’s back tensed and her hands on the wooden banister of the partition wall trembled. She only seemed to turn wetter the harder his fingers fucked her. His gaze swept the crowd of people below, but none seemed to notice the couple in the balcony. Antony watched Cecelia grab tighter to the wood, her eyes fluttering closed.

  “Open your eyes and watch the show, wife,” Antony demanded.

  Cecelia whined. “I can’t … so, so good.”

  “Watch,” he said again, “Or I stop.”

  “God, no.”

  “Watch.”

  She whimpered, and Antony smirked.

  “Damn, you feel so fucking good around me,” he told her, whispering the words in her ear. Kissing the spot beneath her ear, he nuzzled his face into her neck and bit her skin gently. “So tight, Cecelia. You love this. Imagine what it’s going to feel like when it’s my cock pounding into you, hmm?”

  That was all it took.

  Cecelia shattered around him, her head dipping down as a low, blissful cry escaped from between her gritted teeth. Antony continued thrusting his fingers through her orgasm, feeling her pussy milk his fingers with the waves.

  While Cecelia tried to recover from her state, Antony took the chance to remove his hand from between her thighs, work his own pants and boxer-briefs down around his hips, and free his erection to his palm. His dick fucking hurt in his hand. The vein on the underside of his shaft pulsed, matching the beat of his heart. He needed to be buried as deep inside his wife as he could, driving them both into oblivion.

  He didn’t even give a fuck where they were now.

  Need always took precedence for Antony where Cecelia was concerned.

  Hooking his thumb around the top of Cecelia’s panties, he pulled the fabric down until it was around her shaking knees. Not pausing for a second, he fitted himself behind her, rolled his dick along her slit, and slammed in.

  “Antony!”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” he said, yanking her back into his cock as hard as he could.

  Cecelia turned to look at her husband, but Antony forced her head back to stare at the theater stage and the people below. “Watch, I told you.”

  “But—”

  “I want to watch you enjoy something while I fuck you, Cecelia. I want to feel you coming all over my cock with a crowd twenty feet below, completely unaware of the fact you’re letting me fuck you above them. Be quiet, watch the show, and let me fuck you, Tesoro, or honest to Jesus, I might die.”

  “Christ … yeah, okay,” she mumbled as he slid out and pushed right back in again, harder the second time.

  Antony reveled in the heat of his wife’s pussy encompassing his cock. She always fit him so well and he took pleasure in the fact their fucking never failed to leave him blinded, winded, and scrambled in the head and heart. Like a direct shot of lust straight to his bloodstream, Antony was lost inside Cecelia.

  There was nothing fucking better than this.

  Withdrawing his cock from her pussy until he could see the head of his dick, he hummed in satisfaction at the sight of his member covered in Cecelia’s slick arousal. The faint scent of her sex floated through the balcony in wisps, promising to leave the space smelling like them and their fucking once they were long gone.

  “Damn, I love you,” Antony said low.

  “Fuck me,” his wife begged.

  Oh, he couldn’t deny her thing.

  Especially when she asked so nicely.

  Cecelia’s hands slipped on the banister when he pushed inside of her again, holding nothing back, but Antony caught her easily enough. He interwove their fingers together on the smooth wood, keeping his wife firmly in place as he fucked her hard from behind. Cecelia’s heels put her at just the right height for his cock to hit every sensitive spot he knew was inside her wet sex. She backed into him with every thrust, her curls falling and bouncing around her shoulders.

  The soft pants of her breaths turned into whispered cries. She didn’t take her eyes off the stage, though. Antony hissed when his wife’s fingernails scored over his fingers and palms, but he loved it all the same.

  Their pace was brutal, dirty, and quick. Slaps of skin and the sound of his blood thrumming with need rushed his eardrums, drowning out almost everything else. Antony took in the sight of his wife’s profile contorted with pleasure while she was enraptured with the show below. All the muscles in his body felt as if they were twisting like coils ready to snap.

  “Imagine what they would think, Cecelia,” Antony said, leaning over her to kiss a path over the silky skin of her neck. At his voice alone, his wife’s pussy clamped down around him, promising her release would come as fast and hard as it did the last time. He nipped at her ear, licking the shell and tasting her salty perspiration on his tongue. “Imagine, Tesoro. The proper little mafioso principessa you are, so clean and pretty on the outside, is nothing more than a lie. You’re so damn filthy on the inside.”

  She was so fucking close to coming it was ridiculous.

  Antony wasn’t any better. A pressure built in his groin with every flex of his hips. His control wavered, threatening to send him over the edge before her.

  Cecelia slammed their hands down to the wood, swallowing a cry. “Only with you.”

  Antony grinned. “Only with me.”

  She choked on air before muttering, “Oh.”

  It was the only warning Antony got before his wife’s orgasm drowned him in nothing but sensation and ecstasy. He let the contacting pulses of her sex pull him to the finish. All of his nerves felt like they were on fire while the rest of his body just seemed numb.

  “So bad,” he heard Cecelia say in the background of his racing heart.

  “Don’t even think about telling our priest this, Cecelia.”

  His wife only laughed.

  Fuck.

  • • •

  December, 1987

  “How is the bambino?” Vinnie asked, reaching out to press his hand to Cecelia’s rounded stomach.

  Cecelia sighed, letting her father fawn over her pregnancy like he had been for the last several months. From the moment Vinnie knew his first grandbaby was coming, Antony and Cecelia were like gold to the man. Antony didn’t pretend
to understand, but his boss wasn’t on his ass twenty-four-seven, so he chose not to question it.

  “It’s going to be a boy,” Vinnie told Cecelia.

  Cecelia eyed Antony over Vinnie’s shoulder. “A boy, huh?”

  “Yes, a little principe for me.”

  Liliana slapped her husband’s hands away from their daughter’s stomach. “Stop it, you’re making her uncomfortable.”

  “You’re making us all uncomfortable,” Kate muttered.

  Antony had to force himself not to bark at the bitch against the wall. Every step forward Cecelia and Antony took, Kate had to somehow insert her unwanted presence into their achievements.

  His child wouldn’t be one of those things. Antony could guarantee it.

  “You’ll have your own bambinos soon enough,” Vinnie said to Kate, putting his hand back on Cecelia’s stomach. “And I will spoil them rotten, too.”

  “I bet,” Kate murmured, glaring at John standing beside Antony.

  “I’d like a boy for the first,” Antony said, ignoring Kate.

  Cecelia rolled her pretty eyes. “It’s going to be a girl.”

  “You don’t know that, Tesoro.”

  “I said so.”

  Antony nodded in an exaggerated fashion. “Uh-huh. I get it.”

  Vinnie, Liliana, and Cecelia continued chatting about the baby while Antony and Johnathan moved further down the hall, going toward the kitchen. Christmas was always a huge celebration in an Italian family. They’d spent half the day at church and now Antony was practically starving. His stomach was going to eat itself if he didn’t fill it with food soon.

  “What’d Cecelia get you this year?” John asked.

  Antony smiled. “Custom-made knife with my initials engraved on the hilt. Solid silver. It’s nice.”

  “She’s given you one for every Christmas since you married, right?”

  “And anniversary,” Antony replied.

  It had become a tradition of sorts between him and his wife. He sported a nice little collection now. How Cecelia kept finding new ones that continued to impress him, Antony wasn’t sure. He was grateful, though.

  “Where the fuck do you put them all?”

  “In a box. I have to find a place to display them. Somewhere they can be seen but not touched.”

  Nobody but him touched his knives. Not the ones Cecelia gave him, anyway.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” Antony said.

  John shrugged. “I did the family thing this morning and Vinnie asked me here, so why not, right?”

  Family thing?

  Antony stared at his friend, coming to a stop. Confusion settled in his stomach like a dead weight.

  Johnathan had very little to do with his family now that he was thoroughly integrated into the Catrolli crime family. Mixing business with other families was a risky thing, even if you were related. Vinnie had made it clear they were to stay far away from the Grovatti family until their mess with the Capos blew over. John wasn’t one to break those rules considering he was Vinnie’s underboss and it wouldn’t look good.

  “Family thing?” Antony asked.

  John coughed, hiding his lie miserably. “You know, church and shit.”

  “With your father, you mean?”

  “Yeah, sure … my father.”

  His friend was lying right through his teeth.

  What was John hiding?

  “John—”

  “Let’s eat!” Antony heard Vinnie shout.

  “The boss calls,” John said, leaving Antony silent and stunned behind him.

  Chapter Twelve

  February, 1988

  Cecelia’s kisses peppering down Antony’s bare chest didn’t relent as the phone rang.

  “Cristo, bella, slow down for a minute. I have to get that. It could be important.”

  “Nope,” his wife said, popping the word out as she unsnapped his pants.

  Antony’s air cut off as his trousers were pushed down along with his boxers and his wife’s mouth caught his cock between her soft lips. Cecelia’s hot, wet mouth engulfed the length of his erection with burning intent, taking away his ability to think or speak. The only thing Antony could do was fist her silky hair and let his wife do what she wanted.

  Which was apparently to suck his dick.

  Antony didn’t pretend to understand pregnancy. He didn’t act like he knew why his wife went from zero to sixty with her desire for sex. He simply enjoyed the results of it and all the other times when she was a hormonal mess, he gave her whatever the hell she wanted or needed to make her happy.

  To him, it was a fair trade.

  “Oh my fucking God,” Antony groaned as Cecelia’s cheeks hollowed and her teeth scraped along the pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft.

  The phone kept ringing.

  Fuck, that was probably important.

  Or something …

  Antony didn’t care.

  The phone stopped ringing.

  He focused on the feeling of his wife’s lips tightening around his dick and the way her tongue circled the head of his cock every time she came to the tip. Cecelia’s hand slipped under his shaft and palmed his balls, making the pressure in the base of his spine climb to an unbearable point.

  Antony had little to no control when his wife sucked him off. There was something about seeing Cecelia on her knees, taking him like she was, that really did it for him. To the outside world, Cecelia probably seemed subservient and sweet. She was, in a way. Mostly, she was independent, fierce as fuck, and sometimes a little crazy. The perfect wife for him. Like this though, she was just his.

  Cecelia grinned around his cock, glancing up at him through thick lashes.

  “Damn, you look mighty fucking good like that, Tesoro.”

  When the phone started ringing again, Antony squeezed his eyes shut and wished he could ignore it. He couldn’t.

  “Don’t fucking stop,” he told his wife, reaching for the phone hanging on the wall by the counter. He answered it on the third ring. “Yeah, shit, ciao? Marcello speaking.”

  Answering the phone was a bad idea. Especially considering his wife seemed to take that as a personal challenge to break his control while he spoke. Cecelia took him deeper into her throat until his entire shaft had disappeared between her pink lips and a wicked gleam glimmered in her eyes.

  “Antony?” John asked on the other end.

  Fuck.

  Hell.

  Yeah, hell. That’s where Antony was going.

  Straight to fucking hell.

  “What?” Antony asked, mumbling the word against his palm while he fisted his Cecelia’s hair with the other hand.

  “You okay?”

  “Busy at the moment.”

  “Well, un-busy yourself. Something’s happened.”

  Antony’s heart dropped to his stomach. “What happened?”

  Cecelia seemed to pick up on Antony’s sudden anxiety. She said nothing as she released his member, kissed his inner thigh, and pulled his pants back up before re-buttoning and zipping them. Antony cupped the side of her face in his hands as she stood with worry drawing her features dark.

  “John, what happened?” Antony asked again.

  “Kate was visiting her mother today …”

  Antony rolled his eyes, already frustrated. Anything that included Kate’s name was liable to be utter crap. How Johnathan put up with his new wife, Antony wasn’t sure. His friend had Antony’s respect in the tenfold for it, though.

  “Did she cause some kind of shit that you need to clean up again?” Antony asked. “Because if you called me and interrupted my time with my wife for that nonsense, I’m not going to be pleased, John.”

  “No,” John murmured. “Something happened when she was there. I wanted to be the one to call you, not anyone else.”

  “Stop messing around and tell me.”

  “There was a bunch of guys there. You know how Vinnie is. He has dinners all the time with Andino and the older Capos.�
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  “John, what the hell—”

  “Andino collapsed at the table, Antony. They didn’t even get him turned over onto his back before he was dead.”

  Antony’s mind shut down. His heart might as well have stopped beating.

  It wasn’t possible. Andino was a healthy man as far as that went. For his age and lineage, he had a strong heart and an attitude to match.

  “But … no, John, I was just talking to Andino this morning. I knew he was going over to the boss’s place. He was fine. Kate must have been mistaken and—”

  “Tony, stop it. Listen to me, man. She was not mistaken. I talked to Vinnie, too. I’m so sorry, but I didn’t want you hearing it from someone else. Kate called me from her parents’ place a few minutes ago. After I let you go, I’m going to come and pick you up. You have to tell your brother, too. Just … I’m so sorry.”

  Antony hung up the phone, not wanting to hear more.

  “What’s going on?” Cecelia asked.

  “Nothing,” Antony said quickly.

  He didn’t want to think about it. Thinking about it would make it all real. Antony thought it was better if he could just shut off all feelings and pretended like it wasn’t happening.

  Not his grandfather.

  Wasn’t it bad enough that he didn’t have practically anyone left now?

  “Antony, breathe,” Cecelia snapped, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. “Breathe, bello.”

  He couldn’t.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  This was life.

  There was no guarantee.

  Antony could wonder why and ask for answers all he wanted, but God didn’t have to give a reason. He supposed that’s what he hated the most about his chosen deity.

  Giveth and taketh.

  Antony reached out and pressed his hand to his wife’s swelled stomach, feeling his child move under his palm.

  “Antony?”

  “If the baby is a boy, we’ll call him Dante, okay?”

  “Dante?”

  “For Andino. That’s his middle name, and it was his father’s name. Dante, yeah?”

  Cecelia wiped the wetness that escaped the corners of Antony’s eyes. “Okay, we’ll call him Dante if he’s a boy.”