Ruined Secrets: Part 2 – Chapter 23

It happens suddenly as I’m buttoning my shirt the morning of the banquet.

Isabella’s in the bathroom, taking a shower. I woke her up early by sliding my cock into her while she was still asleep. With all the people arriving to make preparations for tonight, she’ll be busy the whole day, and there won’t be any time for us until late into the night. There’s no way I could let her go the entire day without having my cock inside her.

It starts with another sharp pang, but this time the pain doesn’t dissipate right away. Instead, it keeps slashing across my temples in waves so strong I have to sit down on the bed. I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for it to pass, but the pain keeps building until I feel like my head is going to explode. Then, as suddenly as it started, the pain is gone. I should feel relief, but I can’t move from my spot on the bed while I’m trying to sort out the chaos raging in my brain.

When I allowed myself to consider the possibility of regaining my memory, I always assumed it will be a gradual process—remembering one person at a time, or certain events, randomly. I never expected it to hit me like a sledgehammer, but that’s how it feels. One moment all I know is the last two months of my life, and the next, the past thirty-five years materialize out of nowhere.

The bathroom door opens, and Isabella rushes out, clutching her phone to her ear while she’s adjusting her dress. “Let them in, I’ll be right down,” she says into the phone, then looks at me. “The decoration company is early, I have to go.”

“All right.” I nod, staring at her.

“Are you going to the office?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be late for your own party.” She points the phone in my direction. “If I finish up early, I might drop by your office around noon.”

I get up and walk across the room. When I’m standing before her, I take her face in my palms and just stare at her.

“Luca? Is something wrong?”

“No,” I say, not breaking our locked gazes. “Why?”

“You have a very strange look in your eyes.”

The phone in her hand rings again. Isabella sighs, then tilts her head up to press her lips to mine. “I really have to go,” she says into my mouth.

I follow her with my eyes as she hurries out of the room—my extraordinarily brilliant wife, whom I so wrongly accused of being too young to deal with me and my line of work. Two months. For two fucking months she guided me about while I didn’t have a damn clue who all the people around me were. She managed to trick the whole damn Family into believing there was nothing wrong with her husband. Or, it seems, everyone except one person.

I grab my jacket off the chair, take the car keys and my wallet, and head for the door. Tonight’s banquet is bound to be much more interesting than I imagined because, along with my life, I also remember the face of the man who tried to kill me, and he’ll probably be here.

Yes, it will be a very exciting evening.

* * *

There’s a knock at the office door, and Isabella’s head peeks inside. “Am I interrupting?”

“I’ll call you later, Franco,” I say into the phone and motion for her to come in.

She walks to my desk, removes her sunglasses, and places them and her purse on the wooden surface. I study her, focusing on how her gray dress dips into her cleavage, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“I don’t remember approving that outfit for today.”

“Because you haven’t.” She stands before me, bends, and starts unbuttoning my pants. “So, I came to make amends.”

My cock instantly gets hard. “All right. I’ll allow it this time. But you won’t do it again. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Luca.”

My cock swells even more. It’s unbelievable how much it turns me on when she’s obedient because I know there isn’t a single submissive bone in her body. Isabella is not a woman who’d ever let a man control her in any way, yet, she’s compliant with my orders. What’s even a greater turn-on is knowing that she likes it.

“You may proceed.” I lean back in my chair.

Isabella kneels between my legs, takes out my cock and brings her lips to the tip. She licks it, then takes it into her mouth and starts sucking. I grip the sides of the chair, trying to restrain myself from coming into her mouth right away.

“Are you wearing your pussy plug, Isabella?”

She gives my cock one slow lick, then looks up and smiles. “No.”

“Why?”

“I came here intending to get something better inside of me.” She slides her hand down my length and squeezes it lightly. “I left my panties at home, as well.”

I growl, then bend to grab around her waist and hoist her onto my lap, right over my rock-hard dick. She moans as I slide into her, wriggling her hips and taking all of me.

I paw her ass, lift and slowly slide her back down as she moans and grabs my shoulders. The feel of Isabella on my lap, with my cock lodged inside her, is priceless. Unfortunately, the position doesn’t allow much space for maneuvering. I swipe my right hand over my desk, pushing the folders and other stuff off the top.

“Luca!” Isabella yelps, looking down at the papers littering the floor.

Holding under her thighs, I get up off the chair and deposit her sweet ass on my desk. The laptop is lying open right behind her back. She may hurt herself if she leans back, so I grab the thing and send it to the floor, as well.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” She stares at me.

“On the contrary, tesoro.” I cup her butt cheeks in my palms and pull her toward the edge of the desk. “Lock your legs behind me and hold on.”

The moment she obeys, I thrust myself back inside of her. It feels so fucking good when her walls clutch at my cock while she watches me with those magnificent eyes. I’m not sure what I love more—Isabella’s breathtakingly sinful body, her unrelenting and steely spirit, or her brilliant mind. I’m crazy about everything where my young wife is concerned.

A mewl leaves her lips when I start pounding into her, and I soak up every single sound as I demolish her. When I feel her walls trembling around my cock, I stop holding myself back and let go, filling her up with my cum.

My desk phone rings. It somehow escaped the same fate that befell the laptop and the folders. I maintain my hold on Isabella as I sit back down on the chair, then reach for the phone.

“Donato, I’m busy,” I answer the phone.

Isabella starts to move, trying to stand up, but I squeeze my arm around her to keep her flush to my body. I like the feel of my cock inside of her.

“There’s a problem with the newest arms delivery,” Donato says. “We’re two crates of grenades short.”

There’s a lick at the side of my neck. Then, on my jaw, a bite.

“Deduct the amount equal to the cost of six crates, and wire Bogdan the money.”

Hands in my hair. A kiss at the corner of my mouth.

“Six?” Donato gulps. “What if he raises an issue?”

I turn my head and our gazes meet. She smiles mischievously and presses her lips to mine.

“Just remind him of the last discussion he and I had,” I say into Isabella’s lips, throw the phone on my desk, and wrap my hand around her throat.

“What are you wearing tonight?” I ask, sliding my hand up to cup her jaw.

“No restrictions?” She arches her eyebrows.

“No restrictions.” I press my lips to hers. “But only for tonight.”

She smiles, wraps her arms around my neck, and removes my hair tie. “You were right, you know? I am obsessed with your hair,” she says and tunnels her fingers through the strands. “My first memory of you is like this. It was wet then, though.”

“I know, Isa.”

Isabella’s fingers go still. Fuck. I never meant that to slip out. I planned on telling her tonight that I remember everything.

“Damian told me I saved you, pulled you out of the pool when you were six,” I add.

“You did.” She smiles. “I should head back. There are still some last-minute checks to be made, and I have to change.”

“Make sure it’s not something too revealing, or I may change my mind.”

Her lips widen more. “What if it is?”

I tilt her head sideways to whisper in her ear, “There will be consequences, Isabella. You know that.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I lean forward and press the intercom button on my desk phone. “Magda, bring me today’s listings.”

“Right away, Mr. Rossi.”

Isabella shifts, intending to get off my lap, but I tighten my arm around her, keeping her in place.

“Luca? Your secretary will be here any second.”

“I know.” I kiss her shoulder, grab her butt cheeks and reposition her on my, once again, hard cock. “And you’re staying right where you are. Is that clear, Isabella?”

She’s silent for a few moments, then turns her head so her lips are just near my ear. “Yes, Mr. Rossi,” she whispers, and my cock hardens even more.

“Do you have any idea”—she starts moving her pelvis forward, then back, slowly—“how much it turns me on”—a slight rotation of her hips—“when you order me around?”

I grit my teeth, trying to stay composed, but a growl still manages to leave my lips. “Tell me.”

“It makes me so wet that I’m seriously considering wearing two pairs of panties if you continue.” She bites my earlobe. “You know what makes me even wetter?”

Jesus. Don’t say it.

“When I obey, Luca.”

I explode inside of her the instant my name leaves her lips. “Fuck.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Magda enters holding a stack of papers in her hand but then stops midstep. Her gaze passes over the overturned laptop on the floor, the papers scattered about, and finally stops on Isabella sitting on my lap. The desk provides some cover, but she can’t have missed Isabella’s dress pulled up to just below her breasts.

“I-i-is it a bad time?” she stutters.

Isabella straightens on my lap and throws a look over her shoulder. “Not at all, Magda. Please leave the papers on the sofa.”

My secretary rushes to drop off the papers, then hightails it out of the office in record time, closing the door with a bang.

“I need two minutes,” I say through my teeth. I can’t believe I came without waiting for her. Like I’m some teenager.

“No time. I have to go back home.”

I squeeze her ass. “You’re not leaving this office with a lower orgasm score than me.”

Holding her under her ass, I stand up and carry her to the bathroom, where I clean us up, then carry her back. I set her onto the desk, sit down in my chair, and place my hands behind her knees. “Lie down.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“They’ll turn around and leave.” I fix her with my gaze. “Down. Spread your legs.”

“If you say so, Mr. Rossi.” She smiles and lowers her back onto the desk.

I fasten the last button at the back of my neck and look at myself in the mirror. The beige material of the dress hugs my body from the high neckline to slightly below the knees, emphasizing my curves. I turn and look at myself from the side, and then from the back, focusing on my hips. The shapewear that I put on under the dress works wonders. My butt seems at least two sizes smaller. Maybe even three.

When I first got dressed for tonight, I regretted the fact I let Luca convince me to gain back the weight I’d previously lost. I kind of got carried away and instead of putting on only those ten pounds, I packed on fifteen more. It wasn’t that hard, I just stopped counting calories as rigorously as I usually do. I wish I didn’t. The most hilarious thing is that I’m still wearing the same size shirts. All that extra weight, and my breasts became only slightly fuller. Everything else ended up in the bottom part of my body—some on my thighs, but mostly my hips and ass. Just like I feared it would.

I wasn’t insecure about my body until the moment I saw myself in the mirror, wearing this dress. My eyes zeroed in on my behind, making me think of a patient whose butt implant surgery had gone terribly wrong. I almost took off the dress, initially, thinking I’d put on something less tight. But then I remembered the crazy body-shaping underwear I bought on a whim. It’s really tight and rather uncomfortable, but I don’t care. Maybe I should start wearing it every day, at least until I manage to lose a few inches around my hips.

It’s genetics. My mother has a similar pear-shaped build—narrow upper body and significant behind. Grandma was the same. But I seemed to have ended up with the most well-endowed . . . back end. Thank God Luca usually wants me to wear dresses. That allows me to hide the size my butt has reached. I doubt he’s noticed it when we’re intimate. Men don’t usually notice that kind of thing during sex.

The image of Simona comes to my mind. She’s much taller than me, but I don’t think that, even at fifteen, I would have been able to get into her current size pants. Luca keeps saying he likes my body, and I don’t think he’s lying, but still . . . He must have been attracted to his ex-wife if he chose to be with her. If he was attracted to her body, how can he like mine, which is the total opposite?

Enough. Now is not the time for insecurities when there are close to fifty people arriving shortly and expecting everything to be perfect. Maybe I should check the guest list one more time, just to make sure I didn’t miss anyone I should brief Luca on. I comb my hand through my hair, which I’ve left down, check my reflection in the mirror one last time to make sure the lines of the shapewear are not visible, and leave the bathroom.

Luca is sitting in the recliner at the opposite side of the room, typing on his phone. When I enter, he lifts his head, checking me out.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever set my eyes on,” he says with a satisfied smile on his lips, then moves his gaze lower, but he stops midway. “Turn around.”

I raise my eyebrows but make a slow turn. As my eyes return to him, he isn’t smiling anymore.

“Are you on a diet again, Isabella?”

“No. Why?”

“Your ass is smaller.”

So, he’s noticed. “I’m wearing shapewear underneath the dress,” I say. “Do you like it?”

“Shapewear?” He scowls. “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s worn underneath clothes to make the body look slimmer.” I pass my palms down my legs one more time, checking for the visible seams. “It’s damn tight but it works great.”

Luca’s nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. “Remove that crap.”

“What?”

“Now, Isabella.”

I grit my teeth, pull the dress up to my waist and take off the slimming shorts I had on underneath. Throwing them away, I straighten my dress again.

“There. Satisfied?” I snap. He doesn’t say anything, just watches me. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of shapewear. “I only planned on wearing it until I got back to my old weight, okay?”

Luca still doesn’t say a word. The stretchy material of the dress clings to my body, showing every extra pound I’ve gained. I wait for him to tell me to put the shaping shorts on again when he suddenly stands up from the recliner and, leaving the phone, stalks toward me. Is he mad at me? He can’t be mad because I’ve gained weight, can he? The expression on his face is really strange. I take a step back, then a few more until I end up in the bathroom again, with Luca following me inside. He bends his head, his breath brushing my cheek as his hands come to his belt, and he starts unclasping it. I watch with wide eyes as he unbuttons his pants and releases his cock that’s already fully erect.

“Turn around,” he says.

I turn my back to him, slightly confused, and feel his hands land on my ass.

“Jesus.” He sucks in a breath. “I could come just from looking at you.”

“You . . . like it?”

“Oh, tesoro.” He grabs my hips and presses me against his body. “Why did you put that slimming crap on?”

“I . . . my ass is enormous, and this dress is really tight. It shows everything. I thought you wouldn’t find it attractive.”

“Hmm. Want me to demonstrate to you what I think about your body?” He bends his head to whisper into my ear, “Just to make sure there are no misunderstandings?”

“Okay?”

“Take a step forward so I can see you better.” He moves his hands from my butt cheeks to my hips. “Perk your ass slightly.”

When I do as he says, he takes a deep breath. “Fucking perfection.”

His hands leave my hips, and I hear a groan behind me. I look up into the mirror and lock eyes with him. His right arm is moving furiously and I realize that he’s jerking himself off to the sight of my ass. He screws his face up, as if he’s in pain, but then a pure euphoric look comes over him as he comes. I turn around to find Luca holding his cock in his hand, cum all over his fingers. He reaches for one of the towels, cleans himself, and buttons up his pants.

“Does me coming just from looking at your ass clear things for you, tesoro?”

I nod, slightly shocked.

“Good. Are you wearing your pussy plug?” he slides his hand under my dress and presses his palm onto my panties, cupping my pussy.

“You know I am.”

“Perfect. Then let’s go downstairs.”