I MARRIED A GANGSTER: [2018 EDITION]

Twenty-Five

Francesco

I sat in the chair watching my wife rest in our bed. I couldn't help but feel I should be next to her resting just as peacefully, but I couldn't find it in myself to relax as well as she did. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that the only reason she was able to relax so easily was that she had complete and utter faith in me to make everything better.

I wish I had shared that same confidence in myself. It would always puzzle me how Eleanor looks at me. Her large brown eyes looked at me and channeled an innocence in me that I hadn't felt since I was a boy.

The last time someone looked at me with that same look was when Giselle opened her eyes for the first time and stared up at me with complete trust.

Over the years my little sister realized how evil her older brother could be and that look quickly went away. But not with Eleanor, Eleanor still looks at me with that same confidence.

She hadn't left me. I was honestly convinced that she never would. She was mine and I was irrevocably hers. I take a sip out of the tumbler of amber liquid and ran my hand over my face, fighting my sleep tooth and nail. The gun on my thigh was beginning to feel heavy as my body tried to succumb to sleep.

I stood, trying to snap out of my sleepy haze. Deciding to busy myself by showering. I strip myself bare and walk over into the bathroom, leaving the door open so I could hear if anything happened inside the room.

I turned on the water and wait for the steam to build up. I run my hand over my chin and observe the once scruff, now beard, that had managed to grow on my chin in the past two months.

I wasn't too much of a fan of this look. I looked messy and homeless with the dark beard growing on my face and my hair growing ridiculously long. Though, I didn't shave it because I knew Eleanor adored it madly.

Whenever I was buried deep inside of her, she would pull my hair and run her hands over the scruff. Having my hair pulled by my wife when she was in the middle of an orgasm was a feeling that I would never get anywhere else.

I felt my cock twitch, demanding attention, preferably Eleanor's attention. I could never go in there and ask for pleasure when she is this stressed over her life. I would get blue balls before I'd ever request that.

Stepping into the shower, I let the water cascade over my body. As soon as it touched my cock, I felt the sensation of pleasure course through my body, all centered there. I leaned against the wall and gripped myself harder and began to practice the tug and pull motion.

My breathing got heavier. Images of my wife flashed in front of my eyes. Her eyes, her beautiful mouth smiling up at me when I amuse her in the subtlest ways. How she would kiss my scruff when she wanted me. The way she furrows her eyebrows when I insert her, filling her.

How she'd cling to me for dear life when she was coming, milking me for everything I am worth, pulling me deeper into her warmth.

I came, hot spurts of semen falling to the shower floor and disappearing down the drain. I exhaled, feeling slightly lighter than I did moments before. I grabbed the shampoo and washed my hair first, then the rest of my body.

When I stepped out, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist. I was shocked to see my wife sitting in the center of the bed holding my gun in her hands, studying it closely.

My heart skipped a beat in my chest before I ran over to her and snatched it out of her hands. "Are you insane? You do not know how to handle a weapon, Eleanor!"

Her eyebrows furrowed, "It's a gun, it can't be that hard."

Her eyes were red and her face was pale. Had she been crying while I had been...