Chapter 43 We Have A Lifetime
We Have A Lifetime
Papa let me keep a stray kitten I found. He said I will have to be the one to care for it. I told him I was good at looking after things since I spent so much time looking after you. —Ahah, Izzy
Enzo
“Who’d have thought you’d be the first of us to get married?” Carina teases, poking my side.
The reception is well underway. We used Papa's compound for both the wedding and the reception, as it makes security easier. The large dining room has been converted into a makeshift dance floor where our handful of guests are mingling.
I tilt my head to look at her. “Well, I definitely never expected you to get engaged first.”
She snorts then sighs, eyes softening as they find Nate across the room where he’s chatting with my wife.
Ah.
My wife.
She looks incredible in that silk dress—the way it clings to her frame, the slight tease of her tits. And her makeup? Flawless. Then her hair that’s flowing in honey waves down her back. Perfection.
Goddamn luckiest fucker on the planet.
“You’re not wrong there. Never expected Nate to barrel into my life like a labrador puppy on speed.”
A deep chuckle escapes me, because that’s exactly what Nate is like.
“How long until your wedding?”
“Two months.”
“Ah yes. Wasn’t it supposed to be a spring wedding?”
Carina rolls her eyes. “May is spring, dummy.”
“Right. But it’s still hot.”
“This is England we’re talking about. It’s not that hot.”
“True, bella22.” I take a step away. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to save my wife from your fiancé.”
She follows me, skipping over to Nate and pulling him away from Izzy as I reach her. She immediately circles her arms around me, smiling up at me. Radiant.
“Hi, husband.”
Fuck.
I love that.
“Hi, wife.”
Her neck flushes.
I lean down, letting my breath ghost over her skin. “You ready to get out of here?”
We ate, we danced, we drank. Now—Now it’s time for me to be with my wife.
She shivers, nodding her head.
Our exit is swift, both of us vibrating with tension.
The second I slide into the car beside her she’s climbing onto my lap, rolling her hips as her mouth licks and sucks at my neck.
She tugs at my tie, frustration clear in her face as it takes longer than she’d like to get it off. Then she’s ripping at my shirt.
My hands find the hem of her dress, pushing it up until I’m grabbing her perky ass.
She moves like a woman possessed, ripping my zipper open and shoving my slacks down.
Then she’s sinking down onto my cock like she’s made to be there—she is.
Her pussy sucks me in as she rides me, chasing her own pleasure while I watch her—the way her mouth parts, her eyes shut, neck tilts back.
“Touch yourself, baby.”
Her fingers waste no time finding her clit.
As I hold tight onto her hips and start thrusting up, meeting her movements, her mouth parts in a silent scream.
She clenches around me, and I’m done for. My head hits the seat behind me as my orgasm tears through me, leaving me breathless.
Her forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling in the air between us.
She smiles.
“You fuck good, husband.”
I shake my head at her. “Pretty sure you just fucked me, wife.”
Her little giggle goes straight to my heart.
“Ready for our honeymoon?”
She snuggles into me, still seated in my lap with my cock half hard inside her. “So ready,” she yawns, her head resting in the crook of my neck.
I run a hand over her back.
“Sleep, I’ll wake you when we get on the plane.”
Izzy
Movement wakes me.
“Wha—”
Enzo unbuckles my seatbelt as I blink away sleep. “We’re here.”
“Where is here?”
He never told me where we were going for our honeymoon—despite me asking a hundred times.
“My island.”
Huh?
Enzo offers me his hand, helping me to my feet inside the helicopter. I barely remember boarding; I’m pretty sure he carried me. I fell asleep again once we got on the first plane.
“You have an island?” I ask as we exit.
The moment I step outside, searing white light stabs my retinas.
The tarmac bleeds straight into a white-sand beach, crystal water lapping at the shore. To my left, a sprawling mansion dominates the view. Its limestone-yellow facade gleams in the sun, with pale-blue shutters framing every window. Columns guard the entrance, leading up to a massive wooden door.
“This is—” Words fail me.
“It’s yours.”
“Mine?”
“Ours. What’s mine is yours, Cuore mio.”
“Who else is here?”
“No one. I sent the staff on vacation. We have the entire island to ourselves for the week.”
I arch a brow.
Enzo exhales. “Okay, fine. I have a security team on standby on the far side of the island. But that’s it.”
Knew it.
He’d never leave us unprotected—not with Marcus still out there.
Enzo takes my hand, leading me toward the house.
Inside, the walls are painted in soft greens and blues, each room a different shade. The sage-green kitchen is to die for—a sprawling island commands the center, complete with an eight-ring gas hob and twin basins.
The rest of the house is just as stunning: five bedrooms, four baths, a library, a games room, even a home cinema.
“Do you come here often?” I ask as I perch on the kitchen counter, watching Enzo prepare dinner.
He looks devastating in sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt. Not that I don’t adore the suits—but Enzo relaxed? My ovaries are screaming.
“Not as much as I should.”
“We should make it an annual trip. Ooo, for our anniversary each year? That would be so cute! And eventually we can bring our children—”
He silences me by stepping in close, his arms braced on either side, caging me against the cabinets. His lips crash into mine, wine lingering on his breath.
His hands trail down my sides, gripping my hips and pulling me flush against him. His cock presses into me, the friction so delicious I moan into his mouth.
Suddenly—
He steps away.
“What are you—”
His expression is molten. Dangerous. “Run.”
“What—”
His chest rises and falls, breath ragged. His eyes burn.
I wet my lips. His gaze follows the movement.
“Run, Iz. I’m going to catch you.”
My heart stutters.
I don’t move.
He takes a step closer.
I leap off the counter—then bolt.
The patio doors stand open, so instead of heading deeper into the house, I veer outside.
My bare feet slap against warm tile as I sprint, the surface giving way to grass, twigs, and leaves as I race toward the woods.
The exhilaration—the thrill of knowing he’ll catch me—makes every sting of pain worth it.
I duck behind a tree, holding my breath as Enzo’s footsteps close in.
“I knew you’d enjoy this,” he calls, amusement lacing his voice.
He’s right. I love it.
I dart from my hiding spot and push deeper into the trees, heart pounding so hard it drowns out the world.
A twig snaps.
I spin.
Nothing.
Then—I’m falling. Enzo twists midair, taking the brunt of the impact, my chest slamming into his.
“Got you,” he whispers against my ear.
A shiver streaks down my spine.
“What are you going to do with me now that you have me?” I breathe, my voice barely more than a whimper.
Enzo chuckles darkly, then yanks my shirt open, buttons scattering across the leaves. “I’m going to fuck you.”
Helpless—well, not really, but I can pretend—I wait for his next move.
Enzo rises, keeping me locked against him, then shoves my back into the rough bark of a nearby tree. It bites into my shoulders.
My shorts are gone in a violent tear.
“Hold on tight,” he orders—then thrusts into me.
We groan in unison.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, but he only grins and forces my arms above my head, pinning my wrists with one hand. My legs clamped tight around him are the only thing keeping me from sliding down the trunk.
He fucks me mercilessly, every stroke a brand of heat searing through my veins. The sting of bark scraping my back only sharpens the pleasure, building pressure until I’m ready to shatter.
“Let go for me, wife,” Enzo murmurs, voice low and tender—a stark contrast to the brutal slap of his hips against mine.
And I do.
I let go.
Fall apart.
My scream is swallowed by his mouth as he claims it with a kiss.
His thrusts turn frantic, desperate—before he finally follows me over the edge.
Our breaths mingle as we come down from the high.
My back starts to slip down the tree. “Ouch,” I yelp.
Enzo clamps his hands around my thighs and carries me back into the house, still holding me close. He sets me down on the counter—full circle—then cleans the inside of my thighs with a damp cloth.
“Turn around.”
I raise a brow. “I think I need a second to recover before we go again.”
He shakes his head, half exasperated. “Let me see your back.”
“Oh.” I laugh and clamber around, settling cross-legged on the worktop.
He disappears for a moment; the tap runs, and I start to twist around to look, but then he’s back with a warm cloth. I tense at first, then relax as the heat soothes the sting. Now the adrenaline has faded I realize how much it hurts.
“How bad is it?” I wince.
Enzo presses a soft kiss to my shoulder blade. “You’ll survive.”
He smooths aloe vera over the scrapes. Each touch loosens my shoulders; the ache eases as calm takes over.
“All done. Let me cook dinner. Go relax.”
He lifts me easily from the counter and drops me on the couch.
“You don’t want help?” I call after him, watching his now shirtless back as he moves—sue me.
He turns, winks. “Let me take care of my wife.”
I throw my head back, roll my eyes, and moan. “I love that.”
“Get used to it, Cuore mio. We have a lifetime.”
Enzo returns with dinner—crab linguine—and a crisp glass of Sauvignon Blanc. The citrus notes cut perfectly through the rich sauce.
We eat mostly in silence, savoring the food and each other’s company, trading the occasional comment.
Afterward, we put on a film, but I barely watch. I’m too busy sneaking glances at Enzo beside me. His face is soft, the hard lines gone, shoulders relaxed as he sits with one leg crossed over the other, an arm draped across the couch cushions.
I yawn. Immediately, he pauses the movie.
“What?” I mumble.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
“I’m okay—we can stay.”
He chuckles, rising to his feet. “You’re not even watching.”
“I am too!” I gasp.
His hands land on his hips—an unfair distraction.
His laugh pulls my gaze back up to his face.
“What?” I ask.
“I said, what movie were we watching?”
“Um.” Shit.
He takes my hands, gently tugging me up. I wince at the pull on my back.
Enzo’s brow furrows. “I don’t like that you’re in pain. I hurt you.”
I roll my eyes. “I like it. Makes me feel alive.”
The frown lingers, but then he sweeps me into his arms, bridal style.
“Come on, Mrs. Russo.”
“You know, I never agreed to your name, Mr. Romano.”