Chapter 30: Her Chair

By midnight the house was empty of agents, captains and glass.

Gemma sat alone in the dining room, in the Don's chair at the head of the long table.

It was too big for her, and she sat in it anyway.

The seat was warm leather, and the arms were worn smooth by a man's rings.

Raffaele found her there.

He stopped in the doorway with his jacket over his shoulder and looked at her for a long moment.

"It suits you," he said.

"It's ugly."

"It's yours."

"I know."

She smiled, and he crossed the room slowly.

He stopped in front of the chair and went down on his knees on the carpet.

"What are you doing?"

"I was on my knees in the study to say sorry," he said. "I'd like to be on them for something better."

Her breath caught.

"Here?"

"Here. Where he made you serve soup."

He put his hands on her knees and slid them apart.

He kissed the inside of one thigh, and then the other, with his eyes on her face.

"Raffaele, the door..."

"Locked. The guards are at the gate."

"Good."

She pulled her skirt up around her hips.

He tugged her underwear down and tossed it onto the table.

"Fuck, look at you," he said, roughly. "Already wet."

"It's your fault."

"I'm going to make it worse."

He put his mouth on her.

She gasped and gripped the leather arms as his tongue slid slowly through her, then pressed flat against her clit.

He licked her in long, firm strokes, and groaned against her, hungry and rough, with his hands holding her hips to the seat.

She felt the vibration of it all through her.

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