39. Liana
LIANA
My father’s house has never been so full of people. It feels like the whole city of Chicago is here, milling around outside, eating appetizers and waiting for the ceremony.
I’m wearing a sky-blue evening gown, not exactly a wedding dress. It’s not like I can wear white, and I think the color complements my eyes. Plus, it has a lace bodice and Dario goes nuts for anything lace.
I grin, thinking about the lace garter wrapped around my upper thigh. I’m looking forward to that particular tradition.
The neckline plunges, showing a good amount of cleavage, and I adjust myself before taking my father’s elbow.
“Ready, caro?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter.
This is what I want, but I’ve never been more nervous in my life for some reason. It’s been a long time coming. Five years, and I’m finally going to be with the man I love forever.
It’s about to be more than paper only, more than just a ring. It’ll mean so much to me to have this done here, at my father’s house, with everyone I love watching.
I get choked up as soon as my father kisses me and lifts my veil. I look at Dario and his eyes are wet, too. He wipes a tear away with a thumb before smiling at me as I walk down the aisle.
As I get closer tears stream down his face and my heart cracks wide open.
I hurry to him. The music speeds up and everyone laughs.
I chuckle at my own behavior and Dario takes my hands in his.
“The couple has opted to say their own vows,” the priest says. “Liana will start.”
I drag the little piece of paper with my notes on it out of my bust and everyone laughs again.
“Sorry I don’t have it together here, folks,” I mutter, looking down at the crumpled paper. Dario squeezes my other hand, the one he’s still holding. I look up at him and swallow down the rock in my throat.
“I love you,” he mouths at me and it sets me off crying again.
I fan my face with my hand, whistling. “I really thought I could keep it together.”
“Take a deep breath, belissima.”
His smile is the only thing holding me together.
I take in a shaky breath. “Dario, the first time you kissed me it felt like I was holding on to a live wire. And I guess it scared me, and that’s why I believed the worst of you.
That’s why I left, that’s why I lied. I don’t deserve to have you back like this, but I’m so grateful that you’re in my life and Sonny’s. I love you more than you know.”
Dario’s eyes are still wet and he takes in a ragged breath to compose himself before speaking.
“I’m not smart like you, I didn’t write anything down,” he deadpans, and the crowd titters.
I can’t stop smiling, my cheeks ache from the force of it.
“You were the live wire, Li. And when you left, you took everything with you. My heart, my soul. I was a shell of a man for five years. Consuming myself with work, booze, women, the lifestyle. All I wanted was you. I’m going to be the man you need, belissima. I’ll be yours until my dying breath.”
I sniffle, close to losing it, and that’s when the priest rattles off our names and asks if we want to be married.
“I do.”
“I do,” Dario says, the words thick with emotion.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Dario crushes his lips to mine, arching my back in a dip, and I smile against his lips.
We run out of the backyard, being pelted by birdseed, and laugh as we head to the back of the house where the reception is set up.
Food is being served and I look down at my dress.
“I want to change out of this dress but I also want you to rip it off me,” I whisper to Dario.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Decisions, decisions.”
I giggle. “I think I’ll keep it on, just don’t get mad if it gets stained.”
“Baby, you can burn it for all I care. I don’t mind you naked.”
I smile and lean my head against his shoulder when we sit down to eat. I’m starving, and I eat so much and drink so much champagne I feel bloated after, but I’m also tipsy and full and having a blast.
I glance over to see what Dario’s doing. He’s out on the dance floor with Sonny on his shoulders, dancing. I giggle wildly at them, taking videos with my phone.
“You’d better not post those,” Dario warns as he walks back, putting Sonny down in a nearby chair.
“But why, Daddy?” Sonny asks with a pout. “We were having fun.”
“Post them immediately.” Dario changes his tune instantly.
“It’s time for a certain little boy to go home,” I say, looking at my watch. It’s nearly eight in the evening and his bedtime is in thirty minutes.
“Aw, Mama, let me stay.”
“We’re going on a trip all together soon,” I tell him. Dario wasn’t able to bear being away from Sonny long enough for a two-week honeymoon, so Marie will be traveling with us.
He pouts. “Okay, Mama.”
Dario ruffles his hair. “Be good for Marie.”
“I will. I love you, Daddy.”
Dario’s happy expression cracks, tears in his eyes. “I love you too, buddy.”
He’s still sniffling as Marie takes Sonny away.
“We should have let him stay.”
I laugh. “You’re going to have to let go of him a little if you ever want to have sex again.”
“You’re right. That is very important.” He kisses my temple. “When are we getting out of here, anyway?”
I smack his shoulder. “We still have the garter and bouquet toss, and pictures.”
He groans. “Pictures, pictures! Why can’t we just use our eyes!”
“Because memories don’t last forever,” I point out.
“Alright, alright. Just keep your father from pickling me in scotch and we’ll get out of here in an hour, tops.”
I chuckle, knowing it’ll likely be midnight before we leave.
We set up for the garter ceremony with all the bachelors hovering in the back, none of them looking like they want to be there except, strangely, Rocco.
He’s at the front of the crowd, a determined look in his eye.
“Does he even have a girlfriend?’
“No,” Dario says with a laugh. “He’s as bad as I used to be. He’s just competitive. Doesn’t want anyone else to have it.”
I snicker and sit down on the chair after Maria leads me to it.
Maria, Dario’s cousin who I thought was his date, is actually a lovely girl. She’s a lot like Dario, just female, and they are super close.
We’ve become best friends over the past few months while wedding planning, and she flew in from Europe for the ceremony.
Dario grins wickedly as he crouches in front of me, pushing his hands up my thighs to bunch my dress around my hips and reveal the garter.
He trails his lips up my calf and I gasp, my face turning red.
We’re in front of everyone, and he’s kissing up my upper thigh and I’m just trying not to get turned on. My father has averted his eyes, thank God.
Dario catches the garter with his teeth and drags it slowly down my leg, spitting it into his hand.
The crowd goes nuts, loud and raucous. I can’t stop giggling.
Dario stands and tosses the garter behind him and bam, Rocco tackles Giovanni who lunges for it.
“You don’t even want it, you ass!” Giovanni argues as they roll around on the ground.
“Neither do you! You just don’t want me to have it.”
Dario watches with a small smile on his face as they wrestle, finally kicking them to break it up.
Rocco grumbles, but he’s got his prize, the garter, and he heads over to the open bar.
“That guy,” Giovanni mutters.
Next, it’s time to throw the bouquet and my heart clenches as I remember Beth. Maybe if I had just understood her, gotten her some help...
I shake my head to clear it. There’s no point in wondering what could have been. What matters is I’m here now.
I throw the bouquet and the girls are worse than the guys about it, rushing around, pulling hair.
Maria takes hold of it though and grins, hoisting it in victory.
Her boyfriend, Bran, looks at her like she hung the moon and all the stars.
“I think your cousin’s in love,” I point out to Dario, and he frowns.
“He’d better be good to her.”
“I think he knows better than to mess with a Conte girl.”
Dario huffs and I smile, looping my arm through his.
“Ready to get out of here, stud?”
He groans. “Only if you promise to never call me that again.”
I laugh. “Noted.”
We make it back to the hotel around one in the morning. My heels have blistered my feet, so he carries me up the elevator.
I hide my face in his neck, embarrassed.
“People are going to think I’m drunk.”
“You are drunk,” he says with a chuckle.
“No I’m not. Only tipsy. Champagne doesn’t make me drunk.”
“Enough of it will,” he says, carrying me over the threshold and dropping me down on the bed.
I bounce playfully.
I glance over and see a full-length mirror next to the bed.
I raise an eyebrow. “Did you pick this place out yourself?”
“Sure did,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt. He’s already shed his suit jacket.
My skin starts to heat up. “You like watching yourself?”
“No, baby. I like watching you.”
I bite my lip.
“Oh?”
He hums, getting behind me on the bed and settling me against his chest. He unbuttons the small buttons on my bodice and I wiggle out of it, my breasts bouncing free. Before I can start to pull down the rest of the dress, his hands cup my breasts.
His thumbs drag ever so slowly across my nipples and I gasp as they harden in the cool air.
He moves his hands to my hips to push off the rest of my dress, and it pools on the floor.
I look at myself in the mirror, face flushed, naked, hiding my breasts.
“Who are you hiding from, belissima? Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Not like this,” I whisper, and then he grunts, scooting backward and opening my thighs wide. I gasp, looking at myself, at how I glisten, and he groans against my neck.
His erection is already pressing into my back, but he doesn’t seem bothered or hurried in the slightest.
He moves his fingers between my lower lips, spreading me further, sweeping his thumb across my clit over and over until my thighs are trembling.
“Ah, fuck, Dario, you’re going to make me come.”
“Then let go for me, baby. I want you to see yourself make a mess all over my fingers.”
I can’t keep my eyes open. They roll back into my head when he plunges two fingers inside me. Already worked up, I start coming around his fingers, my inner walls clenching.
Dario curses in Italian.
He fumbles with himself behind me and then groans as his erection is freed. He feels hot against my bare back and my breath catches in my throat.
He lifts me up by my hips, impaling me on his cock. I cry out his name in a guttural moan, throwing my head back as he enters me slowly, inch by inch.
I start bouncing on his cock and he gasps in a breath of my name.
“Look at how pretty you look all full of me, baby.”
His filthy words make my heart speed up, and I groan, bouncing harder, starting to sweat as he plunges in and out of me.
“Fuck, Li, you’re like a vise. So fucking tight. I’m not gonna last,” he warns.
“You’re the one who wanted to wait months for this.”
“I know,” he groans. “I’m stupid.”
I choke out a laugh but it turns into a long moan when he angles up, sliding the head of his cock along my g-spot.
“Fuck!” I cry out when I come again, my stomach aching with need.
Dario grunts and thrusts three or four more times before stilling and pulsing inside me. I feel him fill me up and I love it. I gasp and put my head back against his shoulder.
“We’ll have to try that again later,” he says in a low tone. “You didn’t listen.”
“I didn’t?”
He shakes his head. “No, belissima. I told you to look at yourself but all you were doing was looking at me.”
I pout. “I have a hot husband and I can’t even look at him?”
He chuckles, kissing along my bare shoulders, still half-hard inside me.
“You’ll have plenty of time to look, baby. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.