A Sinner’s Truth (De Bellis Crime Family Book 5)
A Sinner’s Truth: Chapter 24

Oh my fucking god. What the hell was that? What did I just do? I came here to talk Santo into coming home. Not to fuck him. Technically, he did the fucking. But still… I just let him fuck me on top of his fiancée’s grave.

What the hell is wrong with me?

But also, I just had the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life. How does he do it? Every time is better than the last.

“Still on the I don’t like sex bandwagon?” Santo smirks down at me.

“I’m not sure. I’m going to need to explore it a bit more. Make sure it’s not just a fluke,” I tell him.

He pulls out and then kneels in front of me. His eyes are right in line with my pussy, and he’s just staring.

“What are you doing?”

“Admiring art.” He smirks. “You look so fucking hot with my cum running down your thighs.” His finger pushes forward, and I’m almost certain he’s trying to shove his cum back inside me.

He came inside me.

I’m on the shot, thank fuck, because obviously I lost my mind—along with any care for the consequences that would come after we did. Not that he gave me a choice. I should hate him for that, right? It shouldn’t turn me on hearing the way he insisted that I’m his wife. That I’m his.

Again, what the hell is wrong with me? That’s a question I’m not going to get answers to anytime soon, though. Especially now, as he continues to push his fingers in and out.

I start to squirm, that feeling in my lower stomach building up again. “Oh god!”

Santo grabs my legs and dangles them over his shoulders as he continues to fuck me with his fingers. “One time isn’t enough. I want more,” he says.

I don’t think I can do more, but as that thought crosses my mind, tiny sparks of pleasure start coursing through my body again. “Shit, I think…” My hands grip on to the stone, needing something to anchor the rest of me in place. “Santo, I can’t.” I shake my head. I don’t think I can come again.

“You can and you will.” His voice is deep. His lips trail along the top of my inner thigh, his tongue presses down on my clit, and just like he hit the red detonate button, I ignite.

When I come back to the world of the living, ironically enough, I’m sitting on Santo’s lap and he’s leaning against the tombstone.

“How do you do that?” I ask him.

“Do what?”

“Make me orgasm like that?” I really am curious.

“It’s not hard, darling. Your body is extremely responsive.” His hands run up and down my back in a soothing motion.

My body is responsive. Well, it hasn’t been for anyone else. Why is it so “responsive” for him?

“Are you okay?” I ask. I know how much he gets lost to his guilt and grief after we do anything physical.

“Never been better,” he tells me. But I see the darkness in his eyes, the hurt, the anger. It’s all just bubbling away beneath the surface.

“I know this is temporary—this marriage—but if you want to ever talk, I’m here.”

Santo’s jaw clenches while his eyes narrow in on me. I have no idea what I’ve said to piss him off. Then, as if I imagined it all, he smirks. “I appreciate that, but if I only have you for a short time, then talking is the last thing I want to do. If all we have is one year, I’m going to get my fill of your body, darling.” He presses his hard cock into my core.

How is he hard again so soon? I thought guys had to have downtime. Then again, I’ve never been with anyone who comes close to matching Santo. He’s enlivening a part of me I thought was broken. And now that he’s woken it up, I don’t think I’m going to have a problem with him using my body as much as possible for the next twelve months.

No, the problem will be when the year is up, when the destruction part of the story happens. But until then, I’m content to live in the middle of our book. Pushing up with my knees, I take his cock in my hand and guide it towards my opening, then slowly lower myself down onto him.

“Fuck,” Santo grits out. His teeth sink into his bottom lip and his fingers dig into my hips. “You’re going to fucking kill me, Aria.”

“Guess we’re in the best place for that to happen, then. You know, easy burial and all.” I laugh.

“Fucking hell,” Santo curses under his breath, and his cock twitches inside me.

He’s big. I know that sounds cliché, but in this case, it’s the truth. His cock is stretching me, filling every part of me. I slowly lift myself up and then sink back down onto him.

“It feels so good. You feel so good.” I bite down on my tongue, stopping myself from talking before I say something utterly embarrassing.

“Fuck me, darling. I want you to use me to get yourself off. Show me how much you love my cock filling this greedy cunt of yours.” Santo moves his hand up and under my shirt. His fingers find my nipple, and he pinches it over the lace of my bra.

He has certainly awoken some foreign part of me, because I can feel myself building towards my third orgasm of the night. I rock back and forth, grinding my clit against his pelvis. Tingles spread all over me. I can feel it, the height of the pleasure. It’s right there. I’m reaching for it.

“Fuck,” Santo grinds the word out between clenched teeth. Then he leans forward. My back hits the damp grass, and he’s on top of me. My legs wrap around his waist as he pistons in and out of me like a man possessed.

It’s not until after we’ve climaxed and are both catching our breaths that I realise he just fucked me right on top of his fiancée. Her body lies beneath us. I should be weirded out. I’m not. Just content and really freaking tired.

Walking downstairs, I feel everything from last night. Every muscle in my body is sore and properly used. After we left the cemetery, Santo brought me home. We showered, where he fucked me against the wall, then he fucked me again in his bed. I don’t know where he gets his stamina from or how he keeps going. I think I passed out at around three in the morning. I couldn’t keep up with him any longer.

Now, with only four hours of sleep, I’m making my way downstairs. I woke up alone again. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. We aren’t anything more than friends—friends who have amazing sex together. Friends who are faking a marriage. It’s not that deep, right? So what if I woke up alone in bed? He doesn’t owe me anything.

I walk into the dining room and stop. All eyes turn to me. Santo is the only one who stands. “Morning. Sleep well?” he asks, and then presses his lips to mine.

“Mhmm,” I murmur.

“Come eat.” He takes hold of my hand and pulls out the empty chair next to his.

“Thank you.” I smile up at him. He really is beautiful. Even with all the darkness that surrounds him like a thunderstorm waiting to break free.

Everyone else at the table continues to stare—openly stare—at the two of us. It’s weird and uncomfortable. If Santo notices, he doesn’t let on. He just sits down and starts piling my plate with food.

“I know you guys are newlyweds and all, but the walls are thin, bro,” Vin says, and my entire face heats up. I’m sure it’s red too.

The walls are thin. Meaning he heard us last night. I really just want to die right now.

“Shut the fuck up.” Santo glares at his younger brother before turning back to me. His expression softens. “Ignore him, darling. He’s a punk-ass kid and his room is on the opposite side of the house. He didn’t hear shit.”

“But I did.” Eloise laughs. “And good for you, Aria. Embrace all that chemistry you two have. I do wish I had a husband who was that attentive, though.” She sighs.

Gio’s fork drops to the table. He stands so quickly his chair falls backwards. I flinch, not knowing what’s coming next. But then he bends down, picks up his wife, and throws her over his shoulder. “Santo, watch the kid for an hour. I have a point to make,” he says before storming out of the room with an upside-down Eloise laughing behind him.

“She did that on purpose, didn’t she?” I ask Santo.

“Yep.” He chuckles. “The idiot falls for it every time too, like he actually has to prove himself worthy of her.”

“It’s cute that he actually wants to prove himself, I guess.” I pick up my fork.

“I want you to come to the distillery today,” Santo says, suddenly changing the subject.

“Why?” I ask him.

“Because you need to know what you’re going to be marketing.”

“You want me to work for you, Santo? I’m not sure you can afford to hire me.” I laugh.

“Not for me. With me. You’re my wife, Aria. You own whatever I own, which happens to be a fifth of this distillery,” he states.

You own whatever I own. Oh my god, I just realised what it was that Oliver wanted so desperately. It’s not me at all. It’s the company. He wants ownership of Swan Enterprises.

Which reminds me of the note I found on my desk yesterday. I haven’t thought too much about it, seeing as other things have been keeping me busy: You took what belongs to me. I’m coming to get it back.

Could that be Oliver threatening to take the company? I don’t see how he actually could, though. Not without a valid claim. Something he lost when I nullified their deal by marrying Santo.