His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

The low rumble of Matteo’s bike faded behind us as we stepped into the clubhouse. The scent of oil, smoke, and something faintly metallic clung to the air. The place felt alive in a way that was rough, gritty, and unapologetically masculine. Wires hung from the ceiling, and there were motorcycle parts piled in corners. Skulls and black flags covered the walls. I know better than to think it as a hangout place, it's obviously their world. Matteo built this in honor for our love. It's like an army and a refuge of bikers who couldn't find their pact outside. The only reason I wanted it gone was because I didn't think this would be a good influence to Sofia if she finds out about it. Matteo’s hand rested on my lower back, warm and grounding as he guided me deeper inside. A few of the men lounging around looked up, their chatter fading. I felt eyes on me. Not all of them kind. But it didn’t matter, because Matteo was beside me. Basically the alpha and big boss. One man stood up from the

I stood there, holding my child, and looked at the man who raised me like I was staring at a stranger. That's when he stopped, probably threatened. “I’m going to our room,” I said quietly. I didn’t wait for permission. I turned on my heel and walked away. The hallway stretched forever, but I didn’t let myself stop. Not until I reached the bedroom. I shut the door. Locked it. Then I exhaled. My hands trembled as I set Sofia down on the bed. Her eyes were wide and wet. Her lip quivered. I took a breath and crouched down in front of her. “Let me see, baby.” She slowly lifted her arm. Angry red marks ran across her skin. My heart shattered. I stood and rushed into the bathroom, grabbed a bowl of warm water, a soft cloth, and some ointment, then returned to the bed. She didn’t cry as I cleaned the marks, but I could see the pain on her face. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be gentle. Almost done, okay?” She nodded. I could feel how tense she was. Her tiny hand gripped the blanket beneat

His thumb pressed against my clit, rubbing tight circles, and a moan tore from my throat. "That's it," he growled, his fingers thrusting up to meet my pussy. "Let me hear you." I hated him. I hated how my body responded, how pleasure coiled deep in my stomach despite the disgust churning inside me. His pace grew rougher, his fingers digging bruises into my skin as he feasted on my pussy. "Come for me." I didn't want to. But my body didn't listen. The orgasm crashed over me, my muscles clenching around him as a broken whimper escaped my lips. Emanuele groaned, his own release following, making me swallow his thick bitter taste cum.I couldn’t wash him off.I’d showered three times. Scrubbed my skin raw, until my shoulders were pink and stinging, but the memory of his hands, his mouth, and his voice clung to me like rot in my bones. I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom, wrapped in a towel, but all I saw was filth. My reflection stared back at me, lifeless. Hollow eyes. Bruis

“And if you ever think I won’t love you because of what he did,” he growled, “I swear to God, Giulianna, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you wrong.” I broke again. But this time, I wasn’t alone. He kissed me again. Slow. Deep. A promise written in the language of lips and breath and shared grief. When we pulled apart, I nodded. “I’ll walk down that aisle.” His eyes searched mine. “You sure?” “I’ll do it,” I whispered. “For Sofia. For us.” His forehead pressed to mine once more. “Good. Because the second he slides that ring on your finger, I’ll be there. And I’ll rip it off myself before he can even gloat.” We stood there in silence, his arms wrapped around me, mine around him. The world felt smaller, quieter, in his arms. “I love you,” I murmured. His breath caught. “I never stopped,” I said, eyes locked on his. He pulled me tighter. “Neither did I.” His hand slid down the curve of my back, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of me all over a

She came like a ghost that had finally remembered where it belonged.But my Giulianna was no spirit, she was flesh. Blood. Fire. And she was mine.I had known she’d come. Not hoped nor known. Because no matter how far she tried to run, no matter what silk prisons they wrapped her in, her soul remembered its place.With me.I’d waited on the steps of this godforsaken ruin, the wreckage of our first undoing, dressed like a man with nowhere to be but exactly where she would find me. Hands buried in my pockets to still the itch. Legs spread wide like I was already claiming the ground beneath me. My foot planted on cracked marble like the throne was still mine.I hadn’t moved a fucking inch.Because I wanted her to feel it the second she saw me, the gravity of it. The pull of a storm that had waited too long to swallow her whole. And when she did finally arrive, I felt it like a slap to the chest.That car door slammed like an omen.The gravel cried under her heels.And there she was, unto