I lie stretched out across the center of our massive bed as I stare down at my phone screen. On it is a freshly sent picture of my friend May’s little boy. A soft smile tugs at my lips as I zoom in on his chubby cheeks. He’s getting so much bigger, and honestly, more handsome by the day.
Lately, I’ve found my mind drifting down this exact path more and more frequently. Ever since the chaos settled and a beautiful, peaceful routine took over our lives, I’ve been thinking about kids. A little boy with Alessandro’s dark, striking eyes, or a little girl with his fiercely protective streak. I’ve always wanted a family of my own—a real one, built on love.
The sudden click of the bathroom door snapping open cuts through my thoughts.
My gaze flickers upward, and the breath catches completely in my throat. Alessandro walks out into the bedroom, completely naked, droplets of water still glistening against the toned, scarred expanse of his chest and abs. He’s effortlessly running a towel through his damp hair, looking like an absolute god.
My fingers go slack. My phone slips right out of my hand, bouncing uselessly onto the thick duvet.
Alessandro notices, a slow, incredibly wicked smirk spreading across his handsome face as he catches me staring. He tosses the towel carelessly onto a nearby chair and strides toward the bed with a predatory, deliberate grace.
“Like what you see, wife?” he rumbles, his voice deep and raspy from sleep.
Before I can even mount a playful defense, he climbs onto the mattress, his heavy, muscular frame looming over mine. The intoxicating scent of his cedarwood soap and clean skin completely envelops me. He leans down, pinning my wrists gently to the mattress, and brings his lips to mine, kissing me with a deep, breathless hunger that instantly makes me forget all about the rest of the world.
I give in completely, returning his energy with a vigor that matches his own, my fingers tangling into his damp hair to pull him closer.
As his lips move fiercely against mine, his hands slide down my body, effortlessly pulling my night dress over my head and tossing it somewhere into the dark room. He instantly cups my breasts, his large palms warm against my skin as he bursts his thumb across the sensitive peak. A breathless gasp escapes me, and he immediately pulls away from my lips to drop his head lower. He takes the other breast in his hand, his mouth sliding down to suck my nipple, sending a sharp wave of heat straight to my core.
Losing myself in the sensation, I reach down between our bodies, my fingers wrapping firmly around his hard cock.
Alessandro lets out a deep, guttural groan straight into my skin at the touch, his body shuddering above mine. He pulls back just enough to look down at me through the shadows, his eyes dark with pure, untamed hunger, his chest heaving.
“I want to be inside you, Sienna,” he rasps, his voice rough and thick with absolute desperation. “I need you right now.”
I spread my legs wide open in invitation, the dark heat of the room intensifying as I look up at him. At the sight, another deep, primal groan rips from Alessandro’s chest. But instead of pushing inside me right away, he pulls back, shifting his weight down the mattress.
He lowers his head between my thighs, his warm breath hitting my sensitive skin a split second before his tongue makes contact. He begins to lick me, finding my sweetest spot with an agonizingly perfect rhythm.
A loud scream escapes my lips, echoing into the quiet room. I arch my back off the mattress, my fingers clawing into the bedsheets for anchor as the sheer intensity of the pleasure takes over. He doesn’t slow down for a second; he just licks and licks, his hands gripping my hips tightly to hold me still while his tongue drives me completely wild, pushing me closer and closer to the very edge of the cliff.
Then he pulls away, reaching blindly through the dark for the handle of the nightstand drawer. His fingers wrap around a condom packet, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet room. I stopped the pill a month ago because of a hormonal issue and since then we’ve been using condoms every time.
But before he can tear it open, I shake my head, reaching up to gently take the packet from his hand. I toss it right back onto the nightstand, letting it drop into the shadows.
Alessandro pauses, his entire body freezing above me as he looks down into my eyes, trying to read my expression in the dim light.
“Sienna,” he asks, his voice low, a trace of confusion mixing with his heavy breathing. “What are you doing?”
I look straight up at him, my hands moving to rest flat against his racing heart. “Alessandro… we’re married. I want more. I want a baby. Don’t you want a family with me?”
The fierce, intense mask on his face completely collapses, and for a split second, he looks entirely vulnerable. Then, a massive wave of relief washes over his features. He instantly collapses onto his forearms, gathering me tightly in his arms and pulling me flush against his chest, burying his face in my neck as he lets out a long, ragged breath.
“God, Sienna,” he breathes against my skin, his arms squeezing me so securely I can barely move. “I’ve been holding back for you… because of how we started this marriage. I didn’t want to impose anything on you. I wanted to give you time. But I want a baby so fucking bad. Especially one that looks exactly like you. I want you to be the mother of my children more than anything.”
I feel tears prick my eyes again, the sheer warmth of his confession melting the last of my doubts. “I’ve been thinking about it so much lately,” I whisper, my fingers tangling in his hair. “I was actually starting to wonder if you didn’t want it.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes wide. “What? Sienna, I want it more than my next breath.”
A soft giggle escapes me, the residual worry completely melting away. “No more condoms then. Let’s try for a baby.”
Alessandro lets out a deep, guttural groan, his forehead dropping against mine for a brief second. “Sienna, you’re going to kill me one of these days. I swear to God, I wonder what the hell I did to deserve you.”
I start to laugh, but the sound seizes completely in my throat when he shifts his weight and plunges into me in one deep, smooth motion, completely filling me.
A breathless gasp breaks from my lips, and I immediately wrap my legs tightly around his waist, holding onto him as if he’s my only anchor in a storm. He begins to move inside me, slow and incredibly deep, every stroke filled with a desperate, consuming reverence.
“I love you, Sienna,” he whispers fiercely in my ear, his breath hot and ragged as his hands grip the mattress on either side of my head. “More than my life. More than anything in this world.”
A beautiful, tearful smile spreads across my face in the dark, and I pull him down for a deep, breathless kiss.
Would it be wrong to kill my father-in-law on my wedding day?
I stand at the edge of the dance floor, whiskey in hand, watching Massimo twirl my wife under the soft lights. She’s smiling, small, polite, but real enough.
Their relationship hasn’t magically healed, but it’s… better. He knows now that if he ever lays a hand on her or her sisters again, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head.
Still, seeing his hands on her makes my jaw tighten.
She’s my wife now.
We said our vows a few hours ago in front of family, allies, and enemies alike. And she became mine in every way that matters. Mrs. Eleonora Lombardi.
I never thought I’d see this day. Marriage was never in the cards for me. Love? Even less. Before her, my life was blood, power, and endless nights of building an empire from nothing. Killing, fighting, expanding territory. That was all I had. All I needed.
Until her. She changed everything.
I watch her laugh at something her father says, and my chest tightens with something warm and foreign.
She’s more relaxed now. Knowing her sisters are safe has taken some of the weight off her shoulders.
But right now, I don’t care about anything but having my wife back in my arms.
Eleonora glances over at me mid-turn, and our eyes lock. She gives me a soft smile.
She’s mine now. Legally. Publicly. Permanently.
I didn’t know how empty my life was until she crashed into it. How cold and meaningless everything felt.
She gave me a reason to come home. A reason to look forward to tomorrow. A reason to want more than power and blood.
Marco, my best man, walks up beside me, drink in hand, and lets out a low chuckle.
“Why does it look like you’re about to murder your father-in-law right now?”
I don’t take my eyes off the dance floor. “Because I am considering it.”
He laughs again, shaking his head. “Hold on a little longer, man. Your wife will be back in your arms in a minute.”
The song ends. Massimo releases her, and I don’t wait another second. I set my glass down and walk straight onto the dance floor.
Eleonora meets me halfway, slipping into my arms. I pull her close, one hand on her waist, the other threading through her fingers.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Better now,” I murmur against her temple.
“My father wanted another dance,” she says.
“It’s a good thing I saved you then.”
She tilts her head, giving me that look I love. “Did I need saving, or did you just want me to yourself?”
I smirk, leaning down to brush my mouth against her ear. “Glad you know me so well Mrs. Lombardi.”
For the past week, she decided we needed to be “celibate” until the wedding night. Some tradition about purity or waiting or whatever the hell she called it. I didn’t understand it then and I still don’t. But I agreed because I love her, and whatever she wants, she gets.
It’s been a week of pure torture. No waking up with her warm body pressed against mine. No falling asleep buried inside her. No touching her the way I crave.
Seven days of hell. I’ve been hard and frustrated and counting down every single hour.
Now she’s my wife. And I’m done waiting.
I take her hand and start leading her off the dance floor. She laughs, tugging lightly. “Nico, the song hasn’t even ended.”
“Fuck the song we’re leaving.”
“We haven’t cut the cake yet—”
“Fuck the cake,” I growl, pulling her faster.
She’s still laughing as I lift her into my arms and carry her toward the private elevator that leads up to the bridal suite. Her arms wrap around my neck, her face buried against my shoulder as guests watch us with knowing smiles, some laughing and cheering.
The second the elevator doors close, I’m on her.
My mouth crashes down on hers, hungry and desperate. She moans into the kiss, fingers threading through my hair as I press her against the wall.
The ride up feels endless. By the time we reach the suite, I’m already rock hard and aching for her.
I kick the door shut behind us and set her down just long enough to unzip her wedding dress. It pools at her feet in a whisper of white silk, revealing what she’s wearing underneath.
Fuck me.
She’s in pure white lace lingerie, a delicate corset-style bra that pushes her breasts up beautifully, matching panties, and a garter belt with sheer stockings clipped to it. She looks like sin and heaven wrapped in one.
I groan, drinking in the sight of her. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this. Never.”
I drop to my knees, hook my fingers into the garter, and slowly pull it down her leg with my teeth. She shivers, hands in my hair. I kiss my way up her thigh, then bury my face between her legs, licking her through the lace until she’s moaning and trembling.
“Nico… we should go back down…”
I pull her panties aside and drag my tongue through her soaked folds. “They can wait.”
I devour her. Licking, sucking, fucking her with my tongue until her legs shake and she’s crying out my name.
Only then do I stand up, unzip my trousers, and free my aching cock.
I don’t even fully undress. I lift her, wrap her legs around my waist, and thrust into her in one deep stroke.
We both moan loudly. She’s so wet, so tight, so perfect. I fuck her hard against the wall, deep and relentless, days of built-up need pouring out of me.
“I love you,” she gasps, nails digging into my shoulders as she comes hard around me, clenching and pulsing.
“I love you Eleonora,” I growl against her mouth, kissing her fiercely as I thrust deep one last time and come inside her, filling her completely.
We stay like that for a long moment, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
She starts laughing softly, still wrapped around me.
“What’s funny?” I ask, kissing her neck.
“The guests… they’re probably wondering where we went.”
I smirk, carrying her toward the bed without pulling out.
“I’m sure they have a good guess of what we’re doing,” I murmur, laying her down and kissing her again.
And as I start moving inside her again, slow and deep this time, I know this is exactly where I’m meant to be.
Boston is a filthy city. It’s not the place or even the low lives that lurk in the alleyways. I dare any of them to try to step up to me. I’m itching for a fight. The chip on my shoulder means that I will take on anyone – anyone who dares to get in my way.
To say that the city is unwelcoming would be an understatement. I shuffle through the back streets still damp from the rain earlier. I haven’t stopped moving in days. I’m living on nicotine and alcohol spiked with as much caffeine as I can get my hands on. It’s making me twitchy.
If my father wasn’t already in the grave, he would have died to know that I would ever think of turning to his brother for help. Hell, my old man would beat me senseless for even considering such a thing. Since that fiancée-stealing bastard killed my father, I don’t have anywhere else to turn. Mother fucker swooped in and closed all bank accounts and locked away all assets with a swiftness that I will begrudgingly admit is impressive.
Crisitano is going to be looking for me, wanting to finish off the job that he started.
I have to go somewhere with firepower, people to back me while I plan my revenge. Oh, and I do intend on having revenge.
My uncle Patrick runs a handful of warehouses outside of the business district, and I have it on very good authority that he’s there with my cousin Liam, who I haven’t seen since we were children. I have skills that will make me useful to him. Hopefully that and the fact that I have Doyle blood running in my veins will be enough to keep him from shooting me on sight.
I try to hide my shock when I arrive at Patrick’s main loading bay, and the old man is waiting for me outside. He’s leaned up against the side of the bay doors, wearing a sleet gray suit and smoking a very expensive smelling cigar.
“I wondered when you would drag your sorry ass here, boy,” he sneers.
It’s so strange to me that he sounds so much like my father, and yet they could not be more dissimilar. They have all the same familial traits in their bone structure, the same defined features that I reflect.
I don’t bother answering him. He doesn’t actually want an answer as I stand there, hands tucked into my pockets. I don’t have anything to bargain with other than myself. Though, given the scornful way that my uncle is staring at me, I don’t know if that’s going to be enough.
“You didn’t come to the funeral…” I say flatly. There’s no accusation in my voice. Of course he didn’t come. I couldn’t even have a proper ceremony for my father given how quickly I had had to leave. But my uncle could have at least attempted to reach out to me in some capacity or another.
“Why would I want to do that? My brother’s death is a happy occasion. He must have truly left you nothing for you to come crawling here to me.” Patrick sneers, ashing his cigar in my direction. “Just further proof of what a sorry bastard that he was. Couldn’t even leave funds to care for his son.”
There’s no point in explaining. He doesn’t want to hear it.
Behind him, the warehouse is bustling with activity. I have half a mind to just head inside and start working so that he has no choice but to accept me. I know how these things go. Patrick isn’t going to give me anything without making a pissing contest out of it.
My jaw tenses, but I wait for his terms and conditions.
“Very well, I guess you are family. But maybe I would like to see my brother’s son crawl for it… on his belly.” Patrick’s lip curls upward sinisterly.
He can’t be fucking serious. There are far better ways to humble me than this public humiliation. He wants to ensure that none of his men get any wrong ideas about me. He needs to knock me down so that everybody knows I’m nothing and nobody, certainly not a threat to Patrick.
If only he fucking knew how wrong that fucking statement was.
My lip curls, and I slowly, painfully start to sink to one knee. I have no choice. I am out of options. If I want my revenge, I need him. A little humiliation is worth my revenge.
My knee hits the asphalt and Patrick throws his head back in laughter.
“Get up, boy. You’ve proved your point.” He snaps at me like I’m a dog, and I rise. “You will have to prove your loyalty in plenty of other ways. I won’t keep you if you aren’t worth it. Unwavering loyalty, ruthless efficiency, and absolute discretion. That’s what’s demanded of my men. Can you comply, boy?”
If he calls me boy again, I might burn his eye out with that fucking cigar.
“Yes, uncle.” I answer, struggling to keep my voice neutral. “You’re aware of the skills that I have, you know that I will pull my weight.”
“Ah yes, your skills as a reaper… luckily for you, your reputation does precede you in that capacity.”
“Just like I know that you are in need of one.” I answer. I keep my spine straight, I’m taller than him.
Patrick gives me a very slow once over, and shrugs one shoulder. “It’s a title that means something, boy. I’ll give you a trial run. Nothing more, nothing less. If you don’t impress me, I’ll have you hung from the rafters.”
I can’t help but laugh humorlessly. “Failure isn’t an option, I get it.”
“My enemies are bountiful, boy, they will not show mercy.”
“Good.” I answer.
I will do anything and everything that I have to do in order to make sure that Cristiano pays for what he’s taken from me. I will not hold anything back. He will lose everything that he loves, if it’s the last thing that I ever do.
I know exactly where I’m going to start.
Patrick dismisses me, and as I head out of the warehouse back to the property, I unlock my phone to see the intel that I have ready. Ada’s face lights up my screen. Cristiano’s precious baby sister is going to be the key to everything. I’m going to hold the power, and his sister, breaking Cristiano in the most personal way possible.
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I’ve never been this exhausted or satisfied in my whole life.
Maeve and I found a perfect space for my agency about nine months ago, and we opened a month ago. The launch has been so successful that I almost have no time for myself whatsoever. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve managed to create a space that emphasizes inclusivity and positive representation. I’m proud of myself. It’s such a new and incredible feeling that I’m constantly on cloud nine.
I often collaborate with Maeve’s now booming fashion brand.
Together, we’re revolutionizing parts of the fashion industry, making it so much more welcoming and diverse. I don’t turn anyone away. They are all given the same opportunity and training. It’s thrilling, and challenging all at the same time. It’s so worth it to be exhausted knowing that I’m making a difference and providing opportunities for those that might have otherwise been overlooked.
Life doesn’t have to be something that just happens to me anymore, I can be in control too, in a good way.
Cristiano, of course, is thrilled about our business venture but he’s still not overly thrilled about Kieran’s existence in my life. They are circling one another without fangs bared, that’s the best that I can possibly hope for at a time like this. Granted, it’s been years now and I don’t think they are going to improve much. The alliance, however, has proven to be more than beneficial for all involved. Their collaborative efforts have brought stability to both territories without either having to reign with fear or overt usage of violence.
And when Kieran just needs to work out that unreleased tension? I’m only too happy to accommodate those needs for him.
I think that my son’s the real glue keeping the alliance together.
Family meetings like this, in particular, tend to be where all of the pretenses and grudges get forgotten. For Maeve and I? It’s the first day off in nine months. For all of the boys lingering near the grill? It’s an unspoken peace. Nothing happens today on pain of exile.
Crisitano is chasing my son across the yard. Rowan cackles and throws his head back as his little legs pedal as fast as they possibly can to keep away from his uncle’s outstretched hands. He could catch him, of course, but he won’t until he’s ready. Then, he will scoop him up and tickle him until his own child starts to get jealous and demands the same sort of attention. His normally stern exterior softens in this setting, and it’s delightful to see. I know he’s proud of the family and alliances that he’s made since our father passed. Father would be so proud of him, I just know it.
Not that family are the only people in attendance today. Alberto and Lila are frequent visitors as well. I know there’s tension between them lately, but neither of them seems willing to tell me what’s the story. Alberto and I aren’t as close as we used to be before Kieran. He seems to like him even less than my brother does and it drove a wedge between us. Lila doesn’t want to explain her part in it all, and I love her enough to respect her privacy.
But if I had to guess I think it’s something a little more than just friendship that’s building between them now. I don’t know if anything has happened, and it’s not my place to ask but I hope that if it has, they are happy together. Lila deserves every happiness in the whole world. Most of all after she had to live through what her bastard of an ex put her through a handful of years ago.
Liam hovers over by where Kieran is flipping meat on the grill. He always insists on cooking it himself, says that it’s cathartic for him. My cousin-in-law finds every excuse to spend time with Kieran. I know he won’t cop to it, but he’s lonely at the top of his clan. He speaks right now with large, animated gestures as he recounts some story or another that Kieran is desperately attempting to ignore.
We both have been pressuring Liam to settle down. He wouldn’t feel so lonely if he had a wife and child of his own. He will have to find somebody to make his heir sooner or later. But no matter how many models I offer to send his direction, he doesn’t seem interested in any of them. The harder we push, the more he insists that Rowan can lead the Doyle clan someday.
I watch their interaction with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, wondering if Liam will ever take his cousin’s advice or not.
A deep sense of gratitude for the life that we’ve built together nearly overwhelms me.
Kieran catches my eye from across the yard, motioning with his head for me to come over and join him. I’m only too happy to do so.
“That smells wonderful.” I say, his arm automatically lifting once I’m close enough to pull into his arms. He kisses my forehead, looking down at me with all the same love and determination that had drawn me to him those two years ago. I lay my head on his shoulder as I turn my focus to my child, happily toddling after a butterfly.
I couldn’t ask for a better life. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.
I take a deep breath, feeling the soft fabric of the dress I designed brushing against my skin. Each step down the aisle feels surreal.
The room is filled with faces I recognize—Dante, Valerie, and even Sabine are seated in the front row. Their expressions all show pride and excitement, and I can hardly believe this moment is finally here.
My eyes find Virgilio at the end of the aisle. He looks incredibly handsome in the suit I made for him.
As I get closer to the altar, a sudden sensation makes me clench my muscles. The vibrator inside me goes off, catching me off guard.
I manage to keep my smile in place, but I glare at Virgilio through it. He smirks back at me, clearly enjoying his little prank. Then, he discreetly stops the vibrator and removes his hand from his pocket. The relief is immediate, but the mischievous glint in his eyes promises this won’t be the last of his surprises.
Finally, I reach the altar where Virgilio stands waiting. He holds out his hand to me, and without hesitation, I take it. His grip is firm and reassuring, grounding me in this pivotal moment.
Together, we turn towards the priest. The warmth of Virgilio’s hand envelops mine as we step forward. My heart pounds from excitement and nerves, but looking into Virgilio’s eyes gives me strength.
The murmurs of the crowd fade into a soft hum as we stand before the priest.
The priest is holding a small book in his hands. His kind eyes crinkle at the corners as he begins to speak. The room falls silent, and all I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat.
“Dearly beloved,” the priest starts, his voice calm and soothing. “We are gathered here today to join Virgilio Messina and Zoe Gray in holy matrimony.”
I glance at Virgilio, who gives me a reassuring smile. His hand tightens around mine, and I take a deep breath and focus on the priest’s words.
The ceremony unfolds and I can barely hold back my tears as we speak our vows. We exchange our rings, and it feels like the beginning of a new life.
The priest smiles warmly at us both. “By the power vested in me,” he declares, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
A wave of joy washes over me as he speaks those words.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest finally declares.
Virgilio leans in close, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. We pull back slightly from our kiss but keep our foreheads touching for a moment longer.
Breaking apart, we turn to face our friends and family together—united as one.
As Virgilio and I walk down the aisle with our arms interlocked, I feel the vibrator buzz to life again. The sensation catches me off guard, making me gasp. My grip tightens on Virgilio’s arm, and I lean in close, whispering through gritted teeth, “If you don’t want me to jump you right here in front of everyone, you better turn it off.”
Virgilio chuckles softly, clearly amused by my predicament. But instead of reaching for his pocket to stop the vibrator, he does something unexpected. In one swift motion, he sweeps me off my feet and carries me bridal style. I let out a surprised squeal as he lifts me effortlessly.
The guests burst into laughter and applause at his bold move. “The wedding party will go on as planned!” Virgilio announces with a broad grin. “Eat to your fill and dance the night away! But I’m taking my wife home.”
My cheeks flush bright red as I hit his chest playfully. “Virgilio!” I scold him, but there’s no real anger in my voice—just embarrassment and joy.
He carries me through the crowd, and I can’t help but laugh at the playful hoots and cheers from our friends and family. Despite my initial shock, being in Virgilio’s arms feels safe and right.
As we make our way out of the venue, I bury my face in his neck, hiding my blush. His strong arms hold me securely. The night air is cool against my skin as we step outside.
“Are you really taking me home?” I ask softly, looking up at him.
He nods, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think we’ve earned some time alone,” he says with a wink.
I smile, resting my head against his shoulder as he carries me towards our waiting car. The cheers from our guests fade into the background, replaced by the sound of our breaths mingling in the night air.
As we reach the car, Virgilio carefully sets me down and opens the door for me. I slide inside, giddy with excitement for the evening ahead.
Virgilio joins me in the car, and as it starts to move, he finally reaches into his pocket and turns off the vibrator. The relief is immediate, but so is the rush of desire that follows.
“You’re impossible,” I murmur, leaning closer to him.
He grins and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “And you love it,” he teases gently.
I can’t help but laugh softly at his words. He’s right—I do love it. Every moment with Virgilio is an adventure, and I’m addicted to this unpredictability.
As Virgilio drives, the tension in the car builds. His eyes dart to me, a mischievous glint shining through. “How about a little bet?” he suggests, voice low and enticing.
I raise an eyebrow, curious despite myself. “What kind of bet?”
He grins, clearly enjoying this. “Let’s see how long you can last without touching yourself or begging me. If you win, I’ll give you a reward. If you lose… well, there will be a punishment.”
My heart races at the challenge. The idea is thrilling, and I can’t resist. “Alright,” I agree, trying to sound confident. “What’s the reward?”
Virgilio’s smile widens. “You’ll find out if you win.”
“And the punishment?” I ask cautiously.
“You’ll see,” he replies cryptically before reaching into his pocket and turning on the vibrator to its highest setting.
The sudden intensity nearly makes me bolt from my seat. My hands instinctively move towards my thighs, but Virgilio’s sharp gaze stops me.
“No touching,” he commands firmly.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, struggling to keep my composure as waves of pleasure course through me.
The drive feels like an eternity. Each bump in the road amplifies the sensation, and I grip the seat tightly to stop myself from reaching down. Every fiber of my being is focused on resisting the urge to touch myself.
Virgilio’s eyes flicker between me and the road, clearly enjoying my struggle. He doesn’t say much but his smirk speaks volumes.
Finally, we pull into the driveway of his estate. Virgilio parks the car and gets out swiftly. He opens my door and squats in front of me, his face inches from mine.
“Are you willing to give up now?” he asks softly, but there’s a challenge in his tone.
“Never,” I gasp out defiantly, even though my body is trembling with need.
His eyes darken with determination as he reaches into his pocket again. This time, he activates the moving feature on the vibrator. The piece inside me starts moving rhythmically, driving me wild with sensation.
I grab his arm for support as I feel myself losing control. “That’s not fair. Not fair at all.”
“Nothing is fair in life my love. If you say please, I’ll turn it off.”
“Please,” I start begging before I can stop myself. “Please stop.”
Virgilio smirks triumphantly. “If you had begged earlier,” he murmurs, leaning closer so our lips almost touch, “I would have stopped the car and ravished you right there.”
His words send a shiver down my spine as he finally turns off the vibrator, leaving me panting and trembling in his arms.
We stay like that for a moment longer before he carries me out of the car and to the house.
Virgilio lays me on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. The cool sheets feel soothing against my flushed skin. “Don’t move,” he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair from my face.
He leaves the room, and I find myself catching my breath, anticipation buzzing through me.
Moments later, Virgilio returns with a bowl of ice cream in hand. He sits on the edge of the bed, the corners of his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “We missed dessert at our wedding party,” he says, scooping up some ice cream. “So, I thought I’d have my own here.”
He places the bowl on the nightstand and begins undressing me slowly, his fingers grazing my skin with every touch. Each piece of clothing he removes heightens my anticipation. When I’m finally naked before him, I ask with a smirk, “So, what’s my punishment?”
Virgilio’s eyes darken with intent as he leans closer. “Close your eyes,” he instructs softly.
I do as he says, feeling the cool air against my skin as he moves closer. Suddenly, I feel something soft and silky wrap around my wrists. My heart skips a beat as I realize he’s tying me to the edges of the bed.
“Ohh,” I say playfully, unable to resist a joke even now, “this is getting kinky.”
Virgilio chuckles warmly, his breath tickling my ear. “Oh, I’ve got so many kinks I want to explore with you, this is the least of your worries.” he whispers, his voice sending shivers down my spine.
His words hang in the air as he picks up the bowl of ice cream again.
Virgilio dips a spoon into the ice cream and brings it to my lips. The cold sweetness melts on my tongue, contrasting sharply with the heat building inside me.
He takes his time feeding me small bites of ice cream. With every bite, his fingers graze my lips and cheeks, heightening the sensation.
Virgilio dips the spoon into the ice cream again, but instead of bringing it to my lips, he brings it to his own. His eyes lock onto mine, dark with desire. Slowly, he takes a bite, letting the ice cream melt in his mouth before leaning down.
His lips capture mine in a cool, sweet kiss. The taste of the ice cream mingles with the warmth of his mouth, and I moan softly as he feeds me the icy treat this way.
The sensation is electrifying. The cold of the ice cream against the heat of our kiss sends shivers down my spine. His tongue dances with mine, sharing every bit of the melting sweetness until it’s all gone. He pulls back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Virgilio dips the spoon into the bowl again, this time scooping up a generous amount of ice cream. He trails the spoon down my body, and I gasp as the cold dessert touches my nipple.
Without wasting a moment, Virgilio leans down and wraps his lips around my nipple, sucking off the ice cream. The combination of cold and heat is almost too much to bear. His tongue flicks over my sensitive skin. I arch my back, pressing myself closer to him.
“Virgilio,” I moan his name breathlessly as he moves to the other nipple. He repeats the process, placing another spoonful of ice cream on it before sucking it off with equal fervor. My body responds to his touch instinctively, each lick and suck drawing out sounds I can’t control.
But Virgilio isn’t done yet. He takes another spoonful of ice cream and trails it down my stomach, letting it pool at my navel before moving lower. My breath hitches as I anticipate his next move.
He spreads the cold desert along my inner thigh and then lowers his head to lick it off slowly.
“Virgilio,” I moan again, louder this time. The sensation is intense—too much and not enough all at once.
He continues his journey across my body, using the ice cream as an excuse to explore every inch of me with his mouth. He places another spoonful just above where I ache for him most, teasing me mercilessly before finally licking it off.
Virgilio’s fingers trace a slow path up my thigh, and I shiver in anticipation. He opens my legs wider, exposing my most intimate parts to him. His eyes darken with lust as he gazed at me.
“You’re dripping,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “And clenching and unclenching your pussy for me.”
I can’t help but whimper at his words, my body reacting to his every touch and command.
Virgilio scoops up another spoonful of ice cream, and I can barely breathe as I watch him lower it to my clit. The cold dessert touches me, and the sensation is overwhelming. The contrast between the icy cold and the burning heat of my arousal drives me crazy.
“Oh, God!” I cry out as pleasure explodes through me. My body convulses, muscles tightening as waves of ecstasy wash over me.
Virgilio looks down at me, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “Bad girl,” he chides gently. “You can’t cum so fast.”
I’m breathing heavily, trying to catch my breath as he continues his sweet torture. My legs tremble uncontrollably, but Virgilio’s firm grip keeps them spread wide.
He lowers his head between my thighs and starts licking the ice cream off my pussy. The sensation is intense, his tongue warm against my already overly sensitive skin. I thrash around on the bed, unable to control my movements as pleasure courses through me once more.
Virgilio holds me down with one hand while his mouth works its magic on me. His tongue flicks over my clit with precision, each stroke driving me closer to madness. I can’t help but moan and whimper under his skilled touch.
He sucks on my clit properly, drawing out more sounds of pleasure from deep within me. My hands clench the sheets as I try to anchor myself against the overwhelming sensations.
Just when I think I can’t take any more, Virgilio removes his mouth from me and slides two fingers inside my dripping pussy. The sudden intrusion makes me gasp loudly.
His fingers move expertly within me, finding that perfect spot that sends jolts of pleasure through my entire body. He curls them just right, and before I know it, I’m losing control once again.
My body arches off the bed as another orgasm rips through me with even more intensity than before. This time, I squirt uncontrollably, soaking his hand and the sheets beneath us.
“Fuck!” I cry out as pleasure consumes every part of me.
Virgilio doesn’t stop; he keeps pumping his fingers inside me while watching my every reaction with a hungry gaze. My body trembles violently under him as waves of ecstasy crash over me again and again.
Virgilio finally removes his hand from between my legs and leans in to kiss me. His lips are warm and gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity of what just happened. I can still feel the echoes of pleasure coursing through my body, making me tremble slightly.
“You’re amazing,” he whispers against my lips. “Squirting like that for me… so beautiful.”
I blush deeply, feeling both embarrassed and flattered by his words. His teasing grin makes my heart flutter, but there’s no time to dwell on it. Suddenly, I feel him entering me.
I don’t even know when he took off his clothes.
The overstimulation is overwhelming. My body is still sensitive from the previous orgasms, and now Virgilio is inside me, moving with a steady rhythm that drives me wild. I can barely form a coherent sentence.
“Oh… Virgilio… too much,” I manage to gasp out between breaths.
He leans down, his mouth close to my ear. “Don’t cum yet,” he commands softly but firmly.
I whimper in response, feeling the pressure building inside me once again. My body is begging for release, but I try to hold back as best as I can. Tears of frustration and pleasure prick at the corners of my eyes.
“Please… it’s too much… stop,” I beg him, my voice shaky.
Virgilio’s movements never falter. He thrusts into me with a determined pace “You know the word to stop me,” he murmurs against my skin, “use it now if you really want me to stop.” He slows for a moment, allowing me to consider. “Be a good girl and use your words for me.” He encourages me to speak, but I realize I’m loving the overstimulation, and him stopping now would feel like dying.
“Please… More.” Is all I can muster, and he grins his satisfaction at my consent.
“Good girl,” he bends over towards me to kiss me on the forehead. “You know your pussy squeezes me so tight anytime I fuck you. It’s like it doesn’t want me to leave.”
My hands clutch at him desperately. He’s right—my body is betraying me, holding onto him tightly even as I plead for mercy. But I guess that’s part of our twisted game of pleasure.
“Please…” I whimper again, my voice breaking.
Virgilio’s response is a deep groan as he continues to move within me, his own control unwavering despite the intensity of our connection. Every thrust feels like it’s pushing me further into a world where only he and I exist—a world in which pleasure reigns supreme.
And just when I think I can’t take any more, I shatter.
My body convulses around him. I cry out, feeling every inch of him inside me, the intensity almost too much to bear.
Virgilio groans deeply, his movements becoming more erratic. He continues thrusting, until I feel his warmth flood inside me. He lets out a final, guttural moan, filling me completely.
“Fuck…. that was amazing,” he murmurs breathlessly, and move to roll off me.
But I’m not ready to let him go. Wrapping my legs tightly around his waist, I hold him in place. “Stay,” I whispered urgently.
Virgilio pauses, looking down at me with a mix of surprise and desire. “Do you want to get pregnant with my baby?” he asks, his tone turning dirty and teasing.
I smirk up at him, the thrill of our connection making me bold. “Yes,” I replied confidently.
His eyes darken with renewed desire. To my astonishment, I feel him harden inside me again. My eyes widened in surprise.
“Virgilio?”
“You started it,” he said with a wicked grin before he began thrusting once more.
I have found something special, something that feels like home in his arms. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
The warm afternoon sun filters through the trees as my feet pound the path in sync with Maddalena’s. My sister’s ponytail bobs beside me, her cheeks flushed from exertion. Central Park feels like a sanctuary away from the chaos of the city.
“So, you really think you can make the Olympic team?” Maddalena asks between breaths. A bead of sweat rolls down her temple.
A wide grin spreads across my face. “Coach said if I keep up this training regimen, I’ll have a great shot in two years.” The dream that once seemed so impossible is finally within my grasp.
Maddalena returns my smile. “I’m so proud of you, sis. You’ve worked your ass off for this.”
Warmth blooms in my chest at her words. No matter what happens, I know Maddalena will always be in my corner cheering me on loudest.
We round the curve, falling into a steady rhythm. My legs burn deliciously, reminding me of the grueling gym sessions and endless laps in the pool. Every ache and pain has been worth it.
“Just think,” I say, my breath coming faster, “in two years, you could be watching me compete for Olympic gold on TV.”
Maddalena laughs. “I’ll be the one holding up the embarrassing cardboard cutout of your face.”
I give her a playful shove. “You better not!”
We pause at our favorite food kiosk in the park, sweat glistening on our foreheads. The cheerful vendor greets us with a bright smile.
“The usual?” he asks, already reaching for the blender.
“You know it, Tony,” I reply, pushing damp strands of hair from my face.
As Tony whips up our fruit smoothies, I catch my reflection in the kiosk’s window. My cheeks are flushed, my ponytail disheveled, but my eyes shine with exhilaration.
“Here you go, ladies.” Tony passes us the thick, icy drinks, condensation already beading on the plastic cups. “It’s on the house.”
Maddalena’s eyes widen in surprise, but I beam at his kind gesture. “Aw, you didn’t have to do that! But grazie, it means a lot.”
I take a long, greedy pull of the tart, fruity concoction, the icy mixture doing wonders to cool me down. Maddalena does the same, humming in delight.
“This really hits the spot,” she murmurs between sips.
We find a shaded bench nearby, collapsing onto it with relieved sighs. For a few minutes, we simply sit in comfortable silence, slurping our smoothies and letting our heart rates return to normal.
“Can you believe in two years, I could actually be living my Olympic dream?” I finally break the quiet, unable to contain my giddy smile.
Maddalena’s eyes crinkle at the corners as she returns my grin. “You’ve got this in the bag.”
Leaning back against the bench, I tilt my face towards the filtering sunlight. I can almost feel the weight of an Olympic medal around my neck, the roar of the crowd echoing in my ears. Years of sacrifice and grueling training, all leading to that one shining moment of triumph.
“You know I’m going to make you sit through every second of footage from my events, right?” I tease, bumping Maddalena’s shoulder. “Even the boring qualifiers.”
She groans in mock horror. “My worst nightmare! Is there any way I can get out of sister duty?”
We dissolve into laughter, the kind of uninhibited, joyous giggling that comes from a place of pure contentment.
If anyone had told me a few years ago that this could be my life, I would have thought they were crazy. Yet here I am, smoothie in hand, Olympic trials in my sights, my wonderful sister by my side. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
I lean back against the bench, savoring the last few sips of my smoothie. The sugary tang tingles pleasantly on my tongue as I let the warm breeze wash over me. A contented sigh escapes my lips.
“We should probably get going, start the cool down jog back,” I say, not quite ready to leave the peaceful oasis of the park just yet.
Maddalena groans, her head tipping back. “Do we have to? I’m already tired just thinking about moving again.”
A wry grin tugs at my lips as I eye her dramatically slumped form. “Oh come on, lazybones. This is nothing compared to the training I do.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the one trying to join the Olympic team,” she shoots back with a pointed look. “I just need to be fit enough to get my pharmaceutical license, no marathons required.”
Chuckling, I rise from the bench and stretch my arms overhead, relishing the delicious pull in my muscles. “Fair point. But where’s the fun in that?”
Maddalena simply shakes her head in response, a teasing glint in her eyes. Before she can retort, I swipe her phone from where it rests beside her and take off down the path at a brisk jog.
“Hey!” She bolts upright, eyes wide with outrage. “Get back here with my phone, you jerk!”
Tossing a mischievous grin over my shoulder, I pick up the pace, clutching Maddalena’s phone to my chest. My sneakers pound against the paved path as I weave between the sparse clusters of park-goers.
“You’ll have to catch me first!” I call back breathlessly.
With an indignant huff, Maddalena takes off after me, her face set in a playful glare of determination.
The rush of adrenaline and the cool breeze against my flushed skin make me feel alive in a way I haven’t in a long time. The trees blur past, and the laughter bubbling up from my chest feels like a long-lost friend.
Suddenly, Maddalena lunges forward with an unexpected burst of speed. I yelp in surprise as she tackles me from behind, sending us both tumbling onto the soft grass. We land in a tangled heap, laughing breathlessly.
“You… are… such… a brat,” Maddalena gasps between giggles, trying to wrestle her phone from my grip.
I hold it just out of her reach, still laughing. “You need to work on your sprinting if you want to keep up with me.”
She finally manages to snatch her phone back and collapses beside me on the grass, panting. “Next time… I’m going to trip you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I reply, catching my breath and staring up at the sky through the canopy of leaves above us. The dappled sunlight creates a mesmerizing pattern that dances across our faces.
For a moment, we just lie there in comfortable silence, the only sounds our labored breathing and the distant hum of park activity. This simple moment feels like a precious escape from the pressures of our lives.
“You know,” Maddalena says softly after a while, “I’m really glad we did this today.”
I turn my head to look at her. Her eyes are closed, and a peaceful smile is playing on her lips. “Me too,” I reply sincerely. “I needed this.”
Maddalena opens one eye and peers at me curiously. “What’s been bothering you lately? You seem… distracted.”
I hesitate for a moment, weighing whether to burden her with my worries. But Maddalena has always been my confidante, and I know she’ll understand.
“It’s just… everything,” I admit quietly. “The training is intense, but it’s not just that. Dad’s gambling debts are still hanging over us, and I’m worried about Mom.”
Maddalena’s expression softens with understanding. “We’ll get through it together,” she assures me. “We’ve faced worse.”
Her words bring a measure of comfort. I nod and offer a small smile in return.
We lie there for a few more minutes before reluctantly sitting up and brushing grass off our clothes.
“Ready for that cool-down jog now?” I ask with a wry smile.
Maddalena groans but gets to her feet anyway. “Fine, but you’re buying dinner tonight.”
“Deal,” I laugh as we start jogging back down the path at a slower pace.
Enjoyed this bonus chapter? Dive back into the adventure and continue the journey on your e-reader. Happy reading!
I’ve been counting down the days until Dom’s return, my heart fluttering with both excitement and trepidation. Two long months apart have felt like an eternity, even though I fully understand the gravity of his mission to rescue Vincenzo’s sister from the ruthless Leon Popov and the Bratva.
As I stir the hearty vegetable soup simmering on the stove, I can’t resist doing a little happy dance at the thought of having my husband back soon. I open a packet of Italian seasoning to add an extra burst of flavor, but the pungent aroma instantly turns my stomach. I barely make it to the sink before retching violently.
Gasping for air, I steady myself against the counter. Could it be…? My hands tremble as I hurry upstairs to our bedroom and frantically dig through my drawer until I find the pregnancy test I impulsively bought a few weeks ago, just in case.
With shaking fingers, I tear open the package and rush to the bathroom. After what feels like an eternity, I finally glance at the little window. Two solid pink lines stare back at me, confirming my hopes and fears. I’m pregnant!
A wave of emotions crashes over me – joy, terror, love. Dom and I had discussed having children one day, but with his dangerous life of revenge and violence, the timing was never right. Until now. Tears of happiness stream down my cheeks as I imagine our baby growing within me, a new chapter beginning for us both.
***
One Month Later
The shrill ring of the doorbell jolts me from my sleep. My heart leaps – it’s the special ring only Dom and I use. He’s here! I quickly rub the sleep from my eyes and race downstairs. As I fling open the door, there stands my husband with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. His intense eyes drink me in like a man emerging from a desert.
He drops the flowers and wine and takes me into his arms as his lips hungrily claim mine. His hands roam my body possessively, as if trying to commit every curve to memory after our long separation. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he walks us backward into the house, kicking the door shut behind us without breaking our passionate kiss.
“God, I’ve missed you so much, amore,” Dom rasps against my lips, his voice thick with desire. I melt into him, my fingers tangling in his dark hair as I drink him in like a woman parched.
The rich aroma of my cooking suddenly hits my nose, jolting me back to reality. “The pasta sauce!” I gasp, reluctantly tearing myself from Dom’s scorching caresses. I dash to the stove and quickly turn off the burner, avoiding a culinary disaster by mere seconds.
Before I can catch my breath, strong arms encircle my waist from behind as Dom presses himself flush against me. “Let it burn,” he growls, nipping at the sensitive skin below my ear. “I need you, amore mio. I can’t wait a moment longer to be inside you again.”
I shudder at his heated words, desire blazing through me like wildfire. Turning in his arms, I loop my own around his neck and meet his smoldering gaze. “Then take me,” I whisper against his lips. “I’m yours.”
The hunger in his eyes sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. With a swift motion, he bends me over the counter, lifting my dress to expose my bare butt to the cool air. I shiver, not from cold but from anticipation. I gasp as I feel his mouth on me, his tongue traces a path that leaves me breathless. His fingers dig into my hips, holding me in place as he feasts on my most sensitive spot.
A low moan escapes my lips as his tongue works its magic, swirling and sucking until my knees buckle. Only his strong grip keeps me upright as a million sensations flood my body. He adds a finger, thrusting gently at first, gradually increasing the pace and depth until I’m writhing and pleading for more. His tongue laps at my clit, seeking every drop as my pleasure builds and builds.
“That’s it, amore,” he murmurs between kisses and licks. “Let me taste you. Fucking beautiful.”
I want to scream his name, but the words catch in my throat as I’m overwhelmed. My fingers curl against the smooth countertop.
He pulls my hips back, urging me to arch them toward his face. I oblige, desperate for more, and he plunges his tongue deep inside me, fucking me with it as he continues to flick his finger across my most sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Dom… oh God, please… I’m so close…” My voice is hoarse with need.
“Come for me, mia regina,” he commands, his voice sends vibrations through my core. “Let me feel it.”
His words push me over the edge, and my release crashes over me like a tidal wave when he calls me ‘his queen’. My cries echo through the flat as I surrender to the exquisite pleasure, my body trembling uncontrollably. With each throbbing pulse, I feel Dom’s mouth still on me, lapping up every last drop as my legs turn to jelly.
I melt into the sensation of Dom’s tongue on my sensitive flesh, his fingers gently stroking me. But as I begin to descend from my climax, I’m startled by the sudden intrusion of something much larger. My eyes fly open as Dom slides into me, my body tensing instinctively at the invasion.
He fills me up completely, stretching me to accommodate his thickness. A cry escapes my lips, half pleasure, half surprise. Dom’s hands tighten on my hips, holding me firmly in place as he withdraws almost entirely, only to plunge back into me with a swift, powerful thrust.
I cry out again, louder this time, my head falling back as he repeats the motion, before establishing a relentless pace. The force of his thrusts pushes me forward, making the smooth countertop dig into my skin.
Dom grips my hand and brings it behind my back, holding it prisoner as he claims my body with his. His dark eyes burn into mine, his breath hot on my neck as he moves within me with fierce possession.
With each thrust, he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into me, taking me on a relentless journey of pleasure and pain. I moan and scream uncontrollably, caught in the throes of his fierce passion, my body clenching around his with each stroke.
“You like that, amore?” he grunts, his voice hoarse with his own need. “You like it when I pound into you, deep and hard?”
“Yes… please… don’t stop…” I beg, my voice breathless and wanting.
He groans in response and his pace quickens. The countertop offers little cushion against the force of our lovemaking, but it only adds to the delirious pleasure.
The intensity builds again, coiling tightly in my core. The friction of Dom’s body against mine sends electric shocks through my nervous system, pushing me closer to the edge.
With a few more powerful thrusts, he reaches that sweet spot deep within me, and my whole body shivers with the force of my release.
I feel spent as my climax ripples through me, but Dom is still rock hard inside me, his need nowhere close to being satisfied. I feel the slap on my butt before I hear it, and the sharp sting only fuels my desire.
“Again,” I moan, surprising myself with the depth of my own voice.
“Ask nicely,” Dom teases, his breath hot on my neck.
I swallow, the sultry mood taking over me. “Please, Domenico. Spank my ass again.”
The second slap lands just as hard, and I yelp in a combination of pleasure and pain. He pulls my hips back to meet his demanding thrusts, gripping my hair as he continues to pound into me relentlessly.
I want to lose myself in the sensation, but part of me is aware of how incredibly debauched we must look, taking each other passionately on the kitchen counter. My hands scrabble for purchase as Dom’s fingers dig bruises into my hips, his movements becoming more frenzied.
The delicacy of our earlier explorations has dissipated, replaced by an urgent, primal need. This is raw, uncontrolled passion, fueled by months of separation and the constant threat of danger.
Dom’s groans fill my ears, mixing with my own shameless cries. He grips me tighter, his cock twitching inside me with each powerful thrust. “You feel so damn good, Mia. Tight around me. Your pussy grips me so perfectly.”
His words spur me on, every nerve ending alight with sensation. I ache to feel him explode inside me, to have him mark me as his own. I’m close to the edge again, riding the wave of pleasure that Dom’s sensual assault creates.
“Cum with me, amore mio,” Dom rasps, his voice strained with effort. “I want to feel you squeeze me as you fall apart.”
His words are all the encouragement I need. My core clenches around him as I spiral into another climax, my cries echoing in the enclosed space.
“That’s it, mia regina. Suck it all out of me.” Dom thrusts into me even harder, his hands bruising my body as he pursues his own peak.
I can feel his swollen length pulsing within me, each twitch sending shards of delight through me. I’m conscious of his ragged breathing, his sweat-slicked chest, the faint scent of his cologne. All my senses are alive as our bodies move in perfect sync, our hearts pounding in rhythm.
As the tension rises between us, a glowing heat spreads through my core, signaling another imminent release. My inner walls clench around Dom’s hard length, milking him.
With a roar, Dom spills himself inside me, his thrusts becoming erratic as he surrenders to the intensity.
I bask in the euphoria of our simultaneous release, savoring the way our bodies are still connected, our hearts slowing to a steadier rhythm.
Dom leans over me, his lips grazing my shoulder tenderly as he catches his breath. “You drive me wild, Mia. You’re all I thought about all the time.”
I turn my head, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty brow. “I know. I thought about you too.”
Carefully, he withdraws from me, and I feel a twinge of loss at the emptiness. But the contented smile on his face as he turns me around to face him tells me that this isn’t over.
I slip boneless to the kitchen floor, my legs still trembling from the intensity of our lovemaking. Dom’s eyes smolder with satisfaction as he takes in my disheveled state.
He presses a soft kiss to my forehead before rising and leaving the room. I listen to the sound of his footsteps retreating, fighting the urge to chase after him. A few minutes later, he returns holding the bouquet of deep red roses that we discarded in the throes of our passion and an expensive bottle of Amarone della Valpolicella.
He kneels beside me, offering me the velvety blooms with a crooked grin. “For you, amore mio.”
I can’t help the blush that colors my cheeks as I accept the roses, inhaling their rich perfume. “They’re beautiful, Domenico. Thank you.”
I place the flowers carefully beside me, and watch as he skillfully uncorks the wine bottle.
I beam at Dom, his brow furrowed in concentration. The familiar motions are so endearing, a glimpse of the domestic life we could have if not for the darkness that still clings to us.
“You know, I was thinking we could have this with dinner tonight,” he says, holding up the bottle with a roguish grin. “Maybe pair it with some handmade pasta or a nice steak?”
I shake my head, unable to suppress the giddy laughter that bubbles up from my chest. “As tempting as that sounds, I’ll have to pass on the wine for now.”
Dom’s expression turns quizzical as he sets the bottle aside. “Is everything okay, amore mio? I thought Amarone Della Valpolicella was your favorite.”
Suddenly feeling almost shy, I duck my head, my cheeks flushing. How to put this into words? After everything we’ve been through, the violence and tragedy, this new path terrifies me as much as it fills me with hope. I have been dying to give him the news for the past month but I wanted to do it in person, to watch his reaction.
Wordlessly, I rise to my feet and make my way upstairs, hearing Dom’s footsteps behind me. In our bedroom, I open the nightstand drawer and retrieve the small plastic stick, cradling it in my palm like a precious treasure.
When I turn back to face Dom, his eyes are alight with curiosity and concern. Rather than speak, I simply extend my hand, offering him the proof.
His brow furrows as he takes the test from me, studying it intently. Realization slowly blossoms across his chiseled features as he registers the two distinct pink lines.
“Mia…” He breathes my name like a prayer, “Are you…?”
I nod, biting my lip to keep the sudden surge of tears at bay. “I’m pregnant, Dom. We’re going to have a baby.”
In an instant, his arms are around me, crushing me to his chest as his lips claim mine. I can taste the salt of his tears mingling with my own as we cling to each other, united in this new, uncharted territory.
When he finally pulls back, Dom is grinning from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with a happiness I haven’t seen in too long. “How? When did you find out?”
“I found out about a month ago but I wanted to tell you in person,” I manage, laughing through the tears streaking my cheeks “It must have happened right before you left…”
He shakes his head in wonder, cradling my face in his work-roughened hands. “My fierce, amazing wife. You never cease to surprise me, do you?”
“I wanted to tell you in person,” I explain softly.
Dom’s warm eyes study me intently several emotions play across his ruggedly handsome features – joy, wonder, even a hint of anxiety.
Finally, he speaks. “Mia, amore mio, this is… I don’t even have words.” He cups my face reverently, brushing away the happy tears that streak my cheeks with the pad of his calloused thumb.
I lean into his touch, covering his hand with my own. “I know. Believe me, I was just as shocked when I found out.” I manage a watery chuckle, my heart so full I feel it may burst. “But also… I’ve never felt more sure about anything in my life.”
Dom’s brilliant smile is like the sun emerging from behind rain clouds as he pulls me into a fierce embrace. We remain that way for long moments, swaying gently together.
Dom brushes a stray lock of hair from my face, his expression tender. “What do you think about moving back to New York for a while, amore mio? So you can be closer to your family again.”
My breath catches in my throat at his words. To see my mother, father and sister again, to share this incredible news with them in person… it’s more than I dared dream.
Tears prick my eyes anew as I nod fervently. “Yes. Oh Dom, yes, I would love that more than anything.”
Dom’s shoulders sag with relief, as if he’d been holding his breath. “You’re sure? Because after everything that happened there… I would understand if you never wanted to go back.”
Reaching up, I trace the line of his strong jaw, my heart swelling with affection for this man who has sacrificed so much for me. “New York is where I met you, Domenico. It gave me a second chance at life, at love.” I rise on my tiptoes to brush a tender kiss across his lips. “It’s our home.”
He presses his lips to my forehead in a tender kiss. “Then it’s settled. We’ll make arrangements to head back to the city soon.”
“Thank you,” I whisper fervently against the steady thump of Dom’s heartbeat. “For never giving up on me. On us.”
His arms tighten around me protectively. “There was never a choice to make, Mia. You are my heart, my everything. As long as I breathe, I will never stop fighting for the life we deserve together.”
I sniff, then wipe my nose with the sleeves of my hoodie, his hoodie. Ronan Gallagher, the Irish boy who stole my heart from the first day he walked into class and somehow became my boyfriend.
There are so many things I cannot wrap my mind around, and Ronan asking me to be his girlfriend tops the list.
I never questioned his loyalty to me as my boyfriend. I never had to second guess his love for me. But today, I’m second-guessing his respect for me.
I stop by the gate of his family estate, and it slides open for me to go in.
I know where to find him on a Saturday morning, so I walk into the large building and head straight for him.
I say hello to the employees. I pass them to go up the short flight of stairs to the foyer—the one that leads straight to the in-house gym, where Ronan will be.
I push the two-way door of the gym and go in to find him lifting weights. I wait patiently until he finishes his reps and sits up from the padded bench.
“Babe,” his husky voice looms first before his height as he stands. “What happened?” He easily, like always, picks up on my mood and comes to me, but I step away from him before he charms me to cave and not say the things I need to say.
“Why did you do it?” I hiccup.
“Do what?” he shrugs, clueless because maybe he thought I would never find out.
“Why did you pay for my full scholarship, Ronan?” I am furious, and as he realizes the reason for my fury, he exhales, “I thought I could trust you. I trusted you, and now I feel humiliated.”
He might think he has done me a favor, but he only showed me how incompetent he thinks I am.
He shouldn’t have gone behind my back. It has always been my dream to be a pastry chef, and I was going to figure that out somehow. And yet, not only did he pay for it, but he also lied about it for a whole semester until I found out today.
He didn’t give me the option to choose. He never asked for my permission.
“Babe, chill,” he chuckles, “No need to overreact, my girl needed a little help, and I…”
“Fuck you, Ronan,” I stab my index finger at him, “Fuck you, and whatever this is, it was fun while it lasted. We are done.” I don’t want to hear him explain anything and make my pitiful status more obvious.
He scoffs, “You can’t be serious.”
“Of course, the poor Olivia would never say no to her rich boyfriend because how then would she ever have a future,” I shove him hard against the chest. “Go to hell and take your money with you,” I turn, my heart breaking, and stomp out.
But in truth, I want him to come after me.
He doesn’t.
Ronan
What do girls want?
I hit the punching bag so hard I almost crack my knuckles. But I don’t stop. I punch and keep punching, taking my frustration out on it.
I did what was right for her. Why does she want to break up with me? Isn’t she supposed to be happy that I helped her?
I have the money to, so why can’t I help her? I know it will take the stress off her so she can focus on learning instead of how to raise the money for it.
She had always wanted to be a pastry chef; it’s all she talks about. So, when she talked about the scholarship program, I knew it was my shot to step in and help her.
I may disagree with my mother on many things, but not when she said a man will take care of what he loves.
I love her, and I took care of her.
Case closed.
***
Me: Why can’t you just be happy to get what you want? You know I did it for you, right?
I hit send, pull my hoodie over my head, and as I’m about to kick off running under the rain, my phone beeps. I quickly look down at it to see that Olivia has texted me back.
Babe: Because I didn’t get what I wanted.
What now?
I shoot another text so quickly that my fingers stumble.
Me: What do you want?
I hold my phone, waiting to see her reply to that question. Whatever she wants, if I can, I will give her. I don’t care if I have to turn the earth upside down to make it happen.
Babe: Fuck you!
Fuck me?
Ok, so even if I was wrong, it’s been a week already, and I cannot believe she is serious about the breakup.
I inhale, then exhale. She will come around. I’ll give her some time.
I hit the road.
***
“Ronan,” Olivia’s mom, identical to her daughter but more mature looking, smiles at me. She has always made me feel welcome, and I appreciate her. She looks like she has just gotten back from her nine-to-five.
“I, huh…” I clear my throat because I’m finally doing this as much as I had said I would not be doing it.
I wanted Olivia to come around herself, but it’s been another week, and she hasn’t sent me any more texts.
She usually cannot stay a day without talking to me.
“Do you want to come in?” Olivia’s mom holds the door out for me, and I shake my head, dropping my eyes to my sneakers on the creaky patio, the one we used to sit on most nights pretending to be studying and kissing in secret, because we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.
“Is Olivia inside? I need to talk to her, please,” I ask. Her face drops before a sorry smile comes up next.
“She left a day ago for Paris,” she squints. “She didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head. “We had a disagreement.”
“Oh, it’s like that sometimes,” she offers. “I can let her know you want to talk or let her granny know.” She shrugs, and I know why Olivia will call her abuela and not her. Her parents do not approve of her dream.
“No. It’s fine,” I step down from the porch. “Thank you.”
“Take care,” she waves at me.
I could take her offer and try to contact Olivia, although I know I have lost my chance. But why should I?
She left. After everything is said and done, she left without telling me.
So, fuck it.
Like my mom always says: I have my whole life ahead of me. I should focus on that.
Enjoyed this bonus chapter? Dive back into the adventure and continue the journey on your e-reader. Happy reading!
I signal the DJ to change the song. He changes the playlist, and my eyes wander to the small crowd of family and friends to find my wife, Olivia, in the distance, talking to some friends she met during her time in Paris.
Her eyes shoot open, and I smile, knowing I’m hitting her just how she likes it. Firm and fast.
It’s my definition of a good life.
This app is genius.
“Hey,” Liam comes before my view, and while I want to knee him in the crotch, I accept his intrusion as politely as I can.
“Hey,” I clear my throat and push the filthiness of thinking about Olivia’s wet pussy swollen around the pink vibrator. I love how no one can see that through the simple stone-embedded sapphire blue dress she changed into for our reception.
“Congratulations,” he smiles at me, and I smile back, still very distracted.
“Thank you,” I try to look past him to search for Olivia, but she is gone.
“What ever happened to Ruth Davis, what’s her situation?”
“She will be out in a few weeks, if not sooner,” Liam seems a little on edge with that one, “I’m doing everything I can to get her out. I told her I…” he clears his throat, “That we will do whatever it takes to get her back on her feet and away from the Bratva.”
I nod, “Well done.” I stalk past him, searching for Olivia, and I get a little worried when I can’t find her in the glittering hall or the sea of glamorous guests.
I feel someone coming behind me and then something moving underneath my suit jacket. I laugh as I clap the hand, trying to take my phone out of my inner pocket.
“Not so fast,” I turn, and kiss her, then lift her hand above her head to spin her so her plump ass presses into my stiff cock, “If you behave, I will do that thing of writing the alphabet with my tongue on your clit,” I whisper in her ear. I feel her shiver under my touch, “I know you like the letter R more than the others.”
“In that case,” she flips, “time to cut our cake,” she points with her eyes and I see our wedding cake, almost the same color as her dress.
She leads me on shaky legs, and the guests gather around us to cheer as we cut the first slice. She feeds me a piece, and I’m stunned to see that the stones on the cake are edible.
I cut a piece and feed it to her, then she lingers, licking every crumb off my fingers. My cock ticks, and I chuckle, masking my need to be buried inside of her for the entire night.
I reach for my phone in my inner pocket while she is busy chewing the cake and increase the vibrator to the max.
She screams but quickly clamps her mouth with her hand, then grips my suit with one hand for balance as she comes from the force.
I grin. ” It must be a very good cake,” I purr into her ear. She tries to steady her breathing, then very quickly reaches for the cake, sinks her fingers into it, pulls a chunk of it, and slaps it on my face. “I love you too, babe,” I laugh, but I don’t let her get away as I pull her into a kiss, making sure to get the cake all over her face, too.
What can I say?
I never thought I could be this happy. I never thought life could get this good.
Annalisa’s voice in my head isn’t exactly what I want to be dwelling on at a moment like this. My mother and father were perhaps the most in love and perfect-for-one-another couple that I’ve ever had the fortune of witnessing in my life. It seems wholly and utterly impossible that either would have been nervous on their wedding day. Still, she had felt that it was proper to lecture me good and long as I had been getting ready for today. Just in case, she had said. She had straightened my black tie and been on her way. The mending of our relationship has been a rocky road. I know that my mother only meant well as she wants the best for me and Ada, but it was hard to forgive her for the things that she had said to Maeve. Even longer for Maeve to understand that it had been for the greater good and because of her promise to her mother, not because she actually felt that there was anything undeserving about my bride.
There’s nobody more perfect for me than her, and everybody invited today knows it.
I’m not nervous. I’m excited. The anticipation itself is making me feel almost anxious. By nature, I’m not a very fidgety person. Yet, I find myself crossing and shifting my hands in front of my body, shifting my weight from foot to foot in anticipation as I stand here at the altar.
In fact, the only thing that worries me at all is Maeve suddenly deciding to come to her senses and realizing that a life with me means that she will always be in danger. Perhaps that’s why Ada keeps poking her head around the open doors at the other end of the aisle and winking at me. She must know how my irrational fear of abandonment is going to make Maeve run away from this wedding before it even happens.
My mother and Ada were the ones who wanted the large traditional wedding. After the lengthy church ceremony, we will all be heading to a reception that’s going to carry well into the wee hours of the morning. I’m happy to do it so long as Maeve gets her night of celebration, but I would have been just as happy with just the two of us and the preacher. She’s all I’m ever going to need.
In less than a few months, she’s become my right arm. She’s my pillar of strength. Even the men have accepted her as if she has always been there. I feel like there’s absolutely nothing I can’t overcome with her by my side.
Unlike now.
I don’t like standing up here alone. I want her here. I want her where I can touch her, feel her energy near me. I want to tether her soul to mine for the rest of our lives and I want to do it now. I’m ready.
Every inch of this chapel has her touch to it. The area is adorned with vibrantly colored flowers that are arranged in elegant bundles. Maeve declared that everything about the customary white gown was too “sterile” and that she didn’t want to do anything with it other than wear it. I had never seen bridesmaid dresses designed in such vibrant colors as she and Ada had. Sure, elegant, but oh so very Maeve.
Once more, my attention is drawn to the same burst of color coming from the opposite side of the aisle. Ada gives me a thumbs up, poking her head out of the open passage and giving me one more wink. That must have also been her cue to the small quartet to begin the wedding processional. All the guests stand up at once and turn to face the same spot that has captured my attention.
Then she’s there, in all of her stunning glory.
I think my knees go weak. I reach a hand out to grasp Al’s shoulder where he stands directly beside me to keep myself upright. We exchange a glance as I nervously smile. Godzilla could crash into the building and I don’t think I would notice. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her stunning beauty for anything in the world. Even the music seems to fade like I’m struck with tunnel vision for Maeve and only Maeve. My wife. My partner. My everything.
I knew that her wedding dress would be breathtaking. Everything that Maeve makes is. But, she hasn’t made too many things for herself so I was not prepared to be so gobsmacked.
My feet move down the steps of the altar to meet her before I can stop myself. I turn and hold my arm out to her to escort her up the last few steps. It is such a surreal thing to do. My mother had offered to walk her down the aisle on her mother’s behalf, but Maeve had insisted that she needed to do it by herself. She needed to be the one to take the steps into this next phase of her life on her own and standing tall. We all respected her wishes.
At least I am trying to.
At least I manage not to put my hands all over her the moment she is within reach because that’s what I really want to do. I want to throw her over my shoulder like a damned caveman and start our wedding night right this very second.
Maeve smirks up at me like she knows exactly what I’m picturing.
Now I can’t help but wonder what she’s got on under that perfect dress. I hope it’s nothing.
I need to calm down before I embarrass myself in front of this whole congregation. I swallow thickly and take her hands in mine, turning to face one another as the ceremony begins.
I think that I’ve always dreamt about this moment. Even when we were much younger, I imagined that she would be my wife. I had hoped against hope, despite always having the very distinct feeling that she was wholly and utterly off limits. I never imagined that I could be lucky enough to have her love me too. I’ve always supported her from behind the scenes. I would have done so for the rest of her life no matter what happened.
But this?
A reality better than my wildest dreams as she repeats after the preacher that she is taking me as her husband, in sickness and health, for better or worse, till death do us part.
