Epilogue 1
Raffaele
The sound of Alina’s whimpers cuts through my sleep like a blade. My eyes snap open to the darkness of our bedroom, immediately alert.
Beside me, my wife’s body twists in the tangled sheets, her naked skin gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat in the pale moonlight filtering through our curtains.
Another nightmare.
They’ve become less frequent in the three months since we returned to Cleveland, but they still come. Sneaking in like unwelcome visitors in the darkness when her defenses are down. I reach for her, but stop. There are better ways to chase away her demons.
“Alina,” I whisper, not to wake her, but to let her know I’m here.
We’re both sleeping naked, a habit from the island that we never stopped. The sight of her naked body still makes me absolutely fucking ravenous for her, and sends blood rushing south, hardening my cock against my stomach.
She’s fully healed now, no trace of the cast that encased her arm for weeks, the hair on her scalp grown back to almost blend seamlessly with the rest.
Her nightmares are ghosts that linger, even as her body has mended. Sometimes she dreams of her mom and sister, sometimes Andrea, sometimes the car that nearly took her from me. I’ve learned to recognize the subtle differences in her cries.
Tonight, she cries for her mom, begging for forgiveness even though she did nothing wrong. Is it wrong that I want to bring Sophia Brewer back to life just so I can kill her myself for the scars she’s left my wife with?
For now, I’ll settle for chasing away the bad dreams and replacing them with good ones. It’s becoming a specialty of mine.
I slide down Alina’s body like a predator, careful not to wake her yet. Positioning myself between her thighs, I breathe her in. Mhmm, sweet and musky and all fucking mine. Her pussy glistens in the dim light, already wet like she can feel me breathing against her.
The first long, slow lick up her center makes her gasp in her sleep, hips bucking. I groan against her flesh, the taste of her hitting my bloodstream like the finest whiskey.
“So fucking sweet,” I murmur against her inner thigh, placing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. “Always ready for me, aren’t you?”
My fingers join my mouth, one sliding inside her tight cunt while my tongue circles her clit with deliberate precision. She’s slick and hot, her body responding even as she hovers in that space between sleep and waking. I curl my finger to find that spot that makes her…
“Ah!” Her breathless cry fills our bedroom as her back arches off the bed.
I smile against her, adding a second finger, stretching her as I suck her clit between my lips. The sight of her—head thrown back, red hair spread across the pillow, lips parted in pleasure—has my cock leaking pre-cum onto the sheets beneath me.
“That’s it,” I coax, my voice rough with desire. “Give it to me.”
Her hips begin to move with more purpose, grinding against my face as my fingers pump steadily inside her. I could worship her like this for hours, drowning in her taste, high on the little sounds she makes when she’s close.
My free hand grips her thigh, holding her open for me as I devour her with single-minded focus.
Some nights I take her with calculated control, drawing out her pleasure until she’s begging, sobbing my name. Tonight isn’t one of those nights. Tonight, I need to feel her shatter against my tongue, need to taste her surrender before I bury myself deep inside her.
“Raffaele,” she moans, still half-asleep, her fingers finding my hair, tugging with just enough force to make my scalp tingle pleasurably.
I growl against her pussy, the vibrations making her thighs tremble.
My fingers curve inside her, pressing firmly against that swollen spot while my tongue flicks rapidly over her clit. She’s close. I can feel it in the way her inner muscles clench around my fingers, in the quickening of her breath, in the tension building in her thighs.
“Come for me,” I command, voice muffled against her wet flesh. “Now, Alina.”
As if her body was waiting for my permission, she orgasms with a sharp cry that tears through the darkness.
Her back bows, thighs clamping around my head as pleasure crashes through her. I don’t let up, working her through every pulse, every shudder, drinking her release like a man dying of thirst.
“Oh God,” she gasps, fully awake now, her eyes wide and dazed as they find mine. “Raffaele…”
I drag myself up her body and take her mouth in a slow, grounding kiss, swallowing the last echoes of her nightmare. When breaking the kiss, I flip her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up until she’s on her knees.
The sight of her ass in the air, her pussy weeping and swollen from my attention, nearly breaks my control.
Bending over her, I claim her mouth in a hard, bruising kiss, swallowing her breath, her sounds—everything—until she melts beneath me. Fuck, these lips taste almost as good as her lower pair. I tear my mouth away with a growl.
“Hands on the headboard,” I growl, positioning myself behind her.
“Yes, husband,” she moans, immediately obeying and gripping the wooden slats of our headboard as I line the head of my cock with her entrance.
I push inside in one long, slow thrust that has us both groaning. She’s tight, slick with her arousal, and so hot I fear I might burn alive inside her. Her cunt always feels like a warm, wet hug. Fucking perfection.
“Fuck,” I hiss through clenched teeth, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks. “You feel so good, so perfect for me.”
“Please,” she whimpers, already pushing back against me, taking me deeper. “Please, I need…”
One hand slides up her back, tangling in her hair before wrapping it around my fist. I pull just enough to arch her spine, to make her gasp. While my other hand slides around to her throat, squeezing slightly, I press a kiss to her shoulder.
“What do you need?” I ask, my hips starting a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Tell me, wife. Tell your husband what you need.”
“Harder,” she begs, her voice breaking as I hit that spot deep inside her. “Please fuck me harder.”
As I increase my pace, the sound of skin against skin fills our bedroom. “Like this?” I pull her head back by her hair, bending to press my lips to her ear. “Or do you need more?”
“More,” she gasps. “Raffaele, please… I… I need more.”
The sound of my name on her lips drives me wild. I tighten my grip on her throat just slightly, feeling her pulse hammer beneath my palm. “You’re mine,” I growl into her ear, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust. “Say it. Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” she cries out, pushing back to meet each thrust. “Only you. Always you.”
“Good girl,” I growl, dragging her mouth back to mine in a rough, claiming kiss that steals the air from her lungs.
I adjust my angle, hitting deeper, making her sob with pleasure. My control is slipping. The sight of her taking my cock, the sounds she makes, the feel of her tight cunt gripping me—it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.
“That’s right,” I praise, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember anyone else’s name. Until you forget everything but the feel of me inside you.”
Her walls flutter around me as another orgasm builds. I can feel it, can read it in the tension of her body, the pitch of her cries. I release her throat to slide my hand down between her legs, fingers finding her clit with ease.
“Come for me again,” I demand, circling the sensitive bud as I pound into her. “Let me feel that pretty cunt squeeze my cock.”
She shudders, her entire body tensing. “I can’t… it’s too much…”
Without warning, I flip Alina onto her back, her surprised gasp morphing into a moan as I push back inside her in one fluid thrust. I hook my arms under her knees, lifting them up and over my shoulders.
The position drives me impossibly deeper, making her eyes roll back as I bottom out. “Feel that?” I growl, grinding my hips against hers. “Feel how deep I am? This is where I belong, Alina. Buried inside you.”
Her hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white as she takes all of me. In this position, I can watch every emotion play across her face—every flicker of pleasure, every moment when it becomes almost too intense.
Her pale blue eyes lock on mine, glazed with lust but still seeing me, only me. I dip down and kiss her—slow, deliberate—like I need her to feel exactly who’s there with her.
“You’re so fucking deep,” she whimpers, the curse rare and precious on her tongue. “I can feel you everywhere.”
I roll my hips slowly, savoring the drag and clench of her pussy around my cock. The angle lets me hit that perfect spot with each thrust, and I know from the way her breath catches that she’s already climbing toward another peak.
“That’s it,” I encourage, increasing the pace gradually. “Take it all. Take everything I give you, wife.”
Her breasts bounce with each thrust, nipples hard and begging for attention. I lean forward, bending her nearly in half as I capture one in my mouth, sucking hard. The position spreads her even wider for me, lets me sink impossibly deeper, and she cries out, her hands moving to grip my shoulders.
“Raffaele!” My name is a broken plea on her lips.
“Mhmm,” I groan, my hips snapping faster now. “You need another orgasm, Mogliettina. Give me one more so I can feel you milking my cock.”
Her nails dig into my skin, leaving crescent marks I’ll wear proudly tomorrow. I reach between us, thumb finding her clit, circling it in time with my thrusts. The sensation pushes her over the edge almost instantly.
Alina’s back arches, walls clamping down around me as she comes with a loud scream. “Raffaele! Oh, God! Fuck! Yes! Yes!”
The sight of her lost in pleasure, coupled with the vise-like grip of her pussy around my cock, triggers my own release. I drive into her once more, as deep as physically possible, and explode.