Epilogue #2
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. He leans down and takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and I cry out, my back arching off the counter.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I open my eyes and meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, and the look on his face is one of pure, unadulterated need.
And it’s all for me.
The thought sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.
He shifts his angle, and with every thrust, he hits that perfect spot inside me. The coil in my belly tightens again, impossibly fast. The sound of our bodies meeting, the slick, wet sounds of our fucking, fill the room. My whimpers and moans are getting louder, more frantic. I can’t stop them.
“You feel so good,” he groans. “So tight and wet for me.”
He reaches between us and starts rubbing my clit in tight, fast circles.
"Roberto, please," I beg. "Bite me."
"Olivia," he says, breathing hard. "I can't, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you with the baby." His hips never stop their punishing pace.
“You won’t,” I say, my words coming out in pants. “I need it. Please.”
He looks down at me, his expression torn. The look in my eyes must be what decides him.
His fingers start rubbing my clit faster, sending my body into an arch. His hips speed up, and he pounds into me, hard and deep. I'm so close. The pressure in my clit builds, a delicious, tingling sensation that has me squirming. I try to hold on, to make this last, but it's too much.
"I'm going to come," I cry out. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
And then I'm falling, a wave of pleasure so intense it has me screaming his name.
But he's not done. He keeps pounding into me, then groans low and deep. All at once, he pulls out of me and guides me off the counter and onto the floor.
"Those tits," he growls, jerking his cock only inches away from my hungry mouth. "Let me see them. Show me."
I run my hands up my body and cup my breasts, lifting them for him.
"Please," I beg. "Roberto."
He groans, and with a final, shuddering breath, he comes. Hot, thick ribbons of his cum cover my breasts and neck. I watch, mesmerized, as he marks me, claiming me in the most primal way possible. I lean forward and clean the tip of his dick with my mouth, moaning at how good he tastes.
He shudders, then pulls back, helping me to my feet.
His lips find mine in a soft, tender kiss that's a stark contrast to the raw heat of moments before.
"Mine," he murmurs against my lips. "You're mine, Olivia."
"And you're mine," I whisper back.
"Always," he says.
He walks away to grab a towel from a drawer and wet it, and as he's walking back, I slide two fingers through the cum on my breasts and bring them to my mouth.
He stops, a pained look on his face.
"You're going to kill me, sweetheart," he says, his voice rough.
"I can't help it," I say on a moan. "I just want you so much."
He continues walking to me and takes my mouth in a rough kiss before pulling back and gently cleaning me up, his touch reverent, especially over my belly. When he's done, he helps me back into my sweatpants and sweater.
"Food's getting cold," he says, a small smile playing on his lips.
I laugh, a light, airy sound. "It was worth it."
After donning our clothes again, we eat standing at the counter, sharing cartons and feeding each other bites of lo mein and orange chicken between kisses. The easy intimacy of it feels more natural than anything I've ever known. The food is delicious, but it's the company I savor.
I tell him about my day, about the emails and the captions. And the amazing thing is that he actually listens. Sure, it's not the most exciting thing, but he cares, and that makes me love him even more.
"When we set up my office," I say, "I'll be out of your hair."
"I like you in my hair," he says. "In fact, I don't think I can live without you in my hair."
"Oh?" I laugh. "You might rethink that statement in about a week and regret me getting rid of my apartment so quickly."
"That would never happen," he says.
"Just you wait," I say, teasing.
He sets his carton down and wipes his mouth with a napkin, then looks at me, a serious expression on his face.
He takes my hand.
"Olivia," he says, and my heart starts to pound. "From the moment I met you, I knew you were different. You're stronger than anyone I've ever met. The things I put you through. The things you've had to deal with."
I shake my head. "Roberto, you didn't..."
I trail off when he presses two fingers to my lips.
"The night you came over, and we argued. You asked me to tell you one thing that's true," he says, his voice serious. "I couldn't do it because I didn't want to drag you down with me."
"Just forget about that now. It's over," I say gently.
Still holding my hand, he gets down on one knee.
My breath catches in my throat.
The room starts to spin, and I have to grip his hand tighter to steady myself. He's pulling a small, black velvet box from his pocket, and the world narrows to just the two of us, the half-eaten cartons of food forgotten.
"Olivia, from the first day you've challenged me, you've supported me. You've given me more than I ever thought I’d deserve again. You made me a better man, and I love you more than I ever thought I’d be capable of again."
He opens the box, and inside is the most stunning ring I've ever seen. It's a vintage-style emerald-cut diamond, flanked by two smaller sapphire baguettes on a delicate platinum band. It's elegant, it's timeless, and it's so him.
"The one thing I wanted to tell you that’s true? That I was dead, and you brought me back to life," he says, his voice thick.
Emotion clogs my throat, and tears fill my eyes. I wipe them away, wanting this moment to be clear, not wanting to miss a thing.
He takes a deep breath.
"Marry me, Olivia. Be mine. Always."
A laugh hiccups out of me as big, fat tears roll down my cheeks.
Of course, he wouldn't ask like everyone else. That's ordinary, and he isn't.
"Yes," I manage to choke out, my voice a hoarse whisper. "I'm already yours."
He slides the ring onto my finger. It's a perfect fit. He stands and pulls me into his arms, and I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in.
"I love you," he whispers against my lips. "More than words can say."
"I love you, too," I whisper back. "More than you'll ever know.
He leans back and looks at my face, a big, beautiful grin on his face, and I have to laugh.
"I can't wait to call you my wife," he says.
"I can't wait to be her," I say.
He pulls me in for another kiss.
"I can't believe I'm wearing sweatpants for this," I say against his mouth.
Roberto breaks the kiss and laughs, then frames my face with his hands.
"You're perfect. This is perfect." He kisses me again. "I'm the happiest man on the planet."
He kisses my forehead, then my nose, then my lips, a series of soft, gentle kisses that I'm going to remember for the rest of my life.
"So," he says, pulling back slightly. "My fiancée, what do you want to do now?"
"Well," I say. "I think you should carry me upstairs and have your way with me again."
"Your wish is my command," he says, scooping me up in his arms.
I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his chest as he carries me up the stairs, studying the ring on my finger, the way it catches the light.
No, this wasn't part of the plan. Not really.
But who the hell cares about a plan when the other option is this?
I snuggle into Roberto's chest and smile up at my future husband, the father of my child, and the man who changed everything.
THE END