His Mafia Prince
Chapter 243: Take Pity on An Invalid, Angel

Chapter 243: Take Pity on An Invalid, Angel

(SASHA)

But Tyler, when I ask him later that night, is perplexed.

"Looking for something?" he parrots blankly.

"Gloria and I thought you might have an idea of what they were looking for."

"You thought I might have an idea what they were looking for?" His brow wrinkles, and there’s a change in his attitude. "Sasha," he says carefully, "honey. You can’t really think I’ve been working with the Irish?"

I let out a short laugh, although I’m coming to the end of my tether with all these paranoia insinuations. "Of course not," I say sharply, and then add, "I’m not accusing you of anything."

"Then...why do you think I might know something?"

I recount my conversation with Gloria. He looks doubtful, but less worried about my mental state when I finish.

"Well, I have no idea what they might be looking for, sorry. Money?"

"They always want that," I allow, "but if that was all they wanted, why target you—or us, for that matter? Wouldn’t they...rob a bank? Hack someone’s Bitcoin? There are easier ways. Launching a paramilitary assault on two private residences and a hospital seems, well...excessive."

I’m finally getting through to Tyler, who looks thoughtful. "I mean, good point, husband. But I still can’t think of anything they’d want from me." He shoots me a look. "I’m not privy to any Adonis dealings, after all."

"Perhaps they don’t know that." I ignore the underlying thread of his words. If I can put it off long enough, maybe we can avoid that particular conversation. Because I won’t have Tyler any more involved than he currently is, no matter how hard he insists, or how many doors he listens at. I’m not sure what’s gotten into him lately, anyway.

Things were working so well with our separate interests—the family, the kids, quite removed from my...business interests.

"Think about it some more," I tell him, deciding to end the conversation. "Right now, though, I want to turn my mind to other things."

"Such as?" He perches on the bed and smiles at me.

"Could I talk you into a very gentle fuck?" He gives a scoff of amusement.

"No?"

"Do you ever think of anything else? I bet you were having sex dreams in that coma."

"Definitely not sex dreams. There was something, but..."

Just like it always does, the sense that there’s something I can’t quite remember tugs at the edge of my conscious mind. But I have more important things to worry about right now.

"It’s no fun having such a hot husband when I can’t do anything to him. But if you won’t let me touch you, then why not give me a show, angel?"

A wicked look crosses his face. "A show, huh? I guess I could do that. Let me shower, first."

I wait in horny impatience. One of my most vivid memories of Tyler is from our vacation, while we were on the Maddalena yacht, sailing the islands; of him waving his ass at me while he was bent over in the bathtub, spreading his cheeks and playing with his hole.

Sometimes in the middle of important meetings, I find myself thinking about that moment; I see Tyler’s round, perky butt instead of Leandro Castillo’s face—which, it must be said, is a vast improvement. Or Alvarado will ask my opinion on something and I’ll have to pretend to think about it—when what I’m really doing is trying to remember the conversation we’re having instead of Tyler’s fingers knuckle-deep in his own ass.

Tyler reappears in the bathroom doorway, leaning up against it, one arm high up on the frame and the other on his cocked hip. He’s wearing a towel and nothing else, and smirks as I let my eyes travel over him, head to toe and back again. I smile.

"You were right, what you said when we were at the vacation."

"What did I say?" He shifts, one hand toying with the towel at his waist, the other running over his chest.

"That you are one lucky motherfucker to have me." He chuckles at that. "You better believe it. Now watch."

I obey, helpless not because of my injuries but because it would be impossible for me not to be mesmerized by the sight of my husband as he performs a slow striptease, hips swiveling, ass shaking, dick swelling.

Tyler loves to be the centre of attention especially when it comes to me. And when he’s in this mood, it’s impossible not to give it to him. He turns to the wall, puts his hands on it and arches his back, spreading his legs.

With a swoop, he bends lower, lets his asscheeks flare open, and then reaches between his legs to run his fingers down his crack.

I have to swallow the flood of spit in my mouth as I think about eating him, about opening up that tasty, trembling knot of his with my tongue, making him squeal and beg for more. I shove the bedding down impatiently, ignoring Tyler’s over-the-shoulder frown at my sudden movement, and ignoring the sting of pain in my side, too.

I want him to see the effect he has on me, the way he makes me ache for him. But he’s over by my side in a flash when I try to fish my dick out, swatting my hands away.

"Cut it out. I really don’t need to be explaining to Darla how you opened up all your incisions again via vigorous masturbation."

I compromise and reach for him instead of my cock, but he evades my hands, eyes sparkling. "You wanted a show," he says. "And I’m not done giving you a show."

"You’re a gorgeous tease, angel, but I want more. Take pity on an invalid, eh?"

"Ah, now you’re getting it," he smirks. "You need to milk that invalid status while you can, babe. Won’t be long before you’re back to full strength."

I hope so. God, I hope so. But Tyler is already distracting me from any dark thoughts by mounting the bed, swinging one leg slowly and carefully over my lap so that he’s kneeling over me, his perfectly proportioned, pink tipped cock and neat little nuts in line with my chest until he settles back on his heels, his ass balancing on my thighs.

"Is that okay?" he asks, anxiety twisting his brows. "I’m not hurting you?"

"I’m in agony," I say, and then grab his hips when he tries to move off me. "My dick needs your immediate attention."

His worried face falls into deadpan. "Scare me like that again and I’ll shove a catheter back in it."

I cup his face. "I’ll be good. So very good, angel, I promise, if you’ll just —"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he sighs, sliding his fingers around my shaft. A slight smile breaks through as I hum in contentment. "I know exactly what you want."

He leans in to kiss me while he works my cock, his tongue lashing at mine while his hand is leisurely, exploratory, fingers sliding up my length in a long, twisting grip, or traveling down to pet my ball sack, tugging at the hairs on it, reminding me who’s in charge.

But I’m already so aroused, so ready, that even the unhurried pace can’t keep me on edge for long; I buck up into his fist with a long, quiet moan around his tongue in my mouth, and the blast of pain in my side at my sudden movement is overtaken by pleasure as I spill out my frustrations in pulse after pulse, my balls squeezing themselves dry over what feels like hours, but can only be seconds.

It’s one of those relieving orgasms that feels great while it lasts, but leaves the base of my skull throbbing out a dull headache in time with my heartbeat.

But I shake it off, focus on Tyler using my cum as lubricant to jack off over me, his lips parted and wet, eyes glazed... He comes, whispering to me about how much he loves me, and I watch every movement of his face, of his hand, of his clenching abs as he works out the last drops.

He’s been careful to shoot his load over my lap, avoiding my bandages, and I watch with dirty pleasure as the gleaming strands turn pearly. There’s one last long string stretching from the tip of his dick to my upper thigh, and he lets me wind my finger around it, break it, and suck his taste while he breathes heavily, sitting back on his heels.

Afterward, Tyler insists on wiping me down and I stretch my arms up behind my head with only mild discomfort now as I watch him with a sense of almost-satisfaction. Things are always good between us in bed, and in the afterglow.

For me, sex is a vital part of our relationship, because it’s where I can really bare my soul to Tyler, when I fall so deep inside him that we almost become one person.

But that’s the problem. I haven’t been deep inside him, not physically, not for so long. I can’t help missing that connection.

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