37. Dom
Dom
It’s been a week of pure bliss.
We’ve not had to share Amara with anyone, not even Milly.
Since the death of her mom, the attempted murder of her sisters Amara and Lia, Antonio Conti made the decision that Milly and his sons, Mateo, and Romeo, along with Enzo Bianchi, should lie low. It was also because we had to kill one of our own.
I never told Amara or Milly why I really sent them home. I couldn’t risk letting them know exactly who their sister Lia was. And when their father turned up at the wake with his own cross to bear, I knew somehow I could use the situation to my advantage.
And that’s my reason for not arguing with Antonio that Milly should disappear for a while.
I’m also happy to have the house and Amara to myself.
Seagulls circle overhead, their cries heard over the crash of waves against the shore beyond our property. Each crash carries the ocean breeze and the smell of salt and jasmine through the air, mingling with the coconut scent of our suntan lotion.
Amara swims toward me, her head under the water and her body slicing through it with effortless grace.
“What time is Caleb coming?” she asks when she reaches the edge where I’m sitting with my feet dangling in the water.
“Lunchtime.” I run my fingers through her wet hair. “But first I have a present for you.”
She tilts her head, water droplets cascading down her shoulders. “Dom, you don’t need to keep buying me things.”
“You’ll like this one.” I smirk, pushing myself off the edge and diving beneath the surface. The cool water envelops me as I swim around her, surfacing inches from her face. I reach into the pocket of my swim shorts and hold up a small object between my fingers.
Her eyes widen when she recognizes a jeweled butt plug. “Not in here,” she gasps. “You’ll push water inside me.”
“Are you sore from this morning?” I trace my finger along her collarbone to her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my touch.
She shakes her head, biting her lower lip.
I smile as I take her in my arms, one hand supporting her back, the other under her knees. I swim to the shallow end and carry her out of the pool, water streaming down our bodies. She clings to my neck, her breath warm against my skin.
“Where are we going?” she whispers.
“Where do you think, piccola?”
I carry her through the sliding doors into the house, leaving wet footprints across the marble floor as I take her upstairs to my bedroom.
I lay her gently on the bed, turning her onto her stomach. Her bikini clings to her curves, and I slowly untie the strings, pulling the fabric away from her body.
The bottle of lube feels cold in my hand as I pour it over the small of her back. I push my finger through it and watch as it drips down between her cheeks.
She shivers as I massage it into her skin, my fingers circling her tight hole.
“Dom,” she moans into the pillow.
I press the plug against her, applying gentle pressure before pulling back.
“Patience,” I murmur, continuing to massage and tease. She squirms underneath me, her fingers gripping the sheets.
I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. “Such a dirty girl,” I whisper, feeling her tremble beneath me. With steady pressure, I push the plug inside her, savoring her gasp. “I’m taking your ass later when Caleb takes your pussy. But now...”
I turn her over on the bed.
“Now what?” she smiles.
“I want you all to myself.”
I slice the sourdough bread, watching Amara move around the kitchen. She’s wearing nothing but my shirt, her long tanned legs bare, the plug still nestled inside her.
Every so often she catches me looking and smiles. It’s like a secret we share, one that tells me she’s thinking about what’s coming.
“Hand me the olive oil,” I say, pointing to the shelf above her head.
I’ve sent the staff away for the day. It’s just us in this big house, preparing lunch for three.
Three.
I never thought I’d be in this position—sharing Amara with Caleb. But here I am, making bruschetta and grilling salmon like this is the most normal thing in the world.
Strange how life works out. I’ve seen it with Dante, Rafe, and Cade with Lia.
The way they orbit around each other, a perfect balance.
Dante’s devotion solely to Lia, while she gives equal attention to Rafe and Cade, who have their own relationship too.
It works for them. And it’s beautiful in its own way.
And now I’m following their example. Me, Dominic de Luca, the man who’s shared nothing important in his life. But for Amara, I’m willing to try. Her happiness matters more than my possessiveness. I’m softening in my older years, becoming someone that I barely recognize.
“What are you thinking about?” Amara asks, tossing the salad with delicate movements. The sound of the wooden spoons against the bowl is rhythmic, soothing.
“You,” I tell her honestly.
She sets down the spoons and comes to me, pressing a kiss against my arm. “I love you, Dom.”
I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up toward mine. Her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes that have haunted me since the first day she walked into my home, look up at me with such trust, such adoration.
“I love you, Amara,” I whisper against her lips. “I love you more than I thought possible.”
“You really do?”
“I do.” I lean down and our lips meet, softly at first, then with growing hunger. My tongue slips between her parted lips, tasting her, claiming her.
She moans into my mouth, her body pressing against mine as I back her against the counter, and my hands slide down to her hips.
But then the external buzzer interrupts us.
“That’ll be Caleb,” I growl and reluctantly pull away, my breathing heavy. I press the intercom. “Good timing. Lunch is almost ready.”
I watch her—my Amara—as she rides Caleb, her slender body arching with every movement. Her dark hair cascades down her back, swaying with each rise and fall of her hips.
Caleb’s hands grip her possessively, his fingers digging into her flesh as she clutches his shoulders for support.
Our eyes meet across the room—Caleb’s and mine—a silent acknowledgment passing between us. I stroke myself, my cock hard and ready as I approach the bed.
“Kiss me,” Caleb tells her, his voice husky with desire.
As she leans forward to press her lips against his, I position myself behind her and carefully remove the jeweled plug.
She gasps into Caleb’s mouth, then turns to look over her shoulder at me, her eyes now dark with lust.
“Do you still want this, piccola?” I ask, my hand caressing the curve of her ass. “If you don’t like it, just say stop.”
“I want it,” she breathes. “I want you both—together.”
I hold her waist, steadying her as I slowly edge myself inside her forbidden hole.
She tenses at first. I pull back, giving her time to stop me. When she doesn’t, I gradually press inside her again. This time, she relaxes as I push deeper.
And deeper.
“Fuck. Her pussy is clamping around my cock, and I feel like I’m going to come,” Caleb groans.
“Hold on. We'll all come together.”
“Oh God,” she moans as I push another inch inside her. “I feel so full.”
Once I’m fully seated inside her, I pause, giving her time to adjust to the sensation of both of us filling her.
Caleb remains still beneath her, his hands now stroking her thighs soothingly.
“Please,” she begs, her voice trembling. “Move. Both of you.”
We begin a rhythm—Caleb thrusting up as I pull back, then me pushing forward as he withdraws.
Amara’s moans fill the room, her body quivering between us.
“You both feel so good,” she gasps. “So, so good.”
Caleb and I exchange smiles over her shoulder.
This beautiful woman has brought us together in ways I never imagined possible.
We were friends, best friends, and now we’re sharing this beautiful woman.
The connection between us has deepened, transformed into something rare and powerful through our shared desire for Amara.
“Such a good fucking girl for us,” I murmur against her ear, nipping at the lobe. I feel her shiver against me, her back arching into my chest.
“Our perfect girl,” Caleb adds, his hands moving to cup her breasts. His thumbs circle her nipples as his eyes lock with mine, both of us in awe of the desire written across her flushed face. “Look how beautifully she takes us both.”
I grip Amara’s hips tighter, feeling her body tremble between us. The sight of her—flushed and writhing with pleasure—sends a surge of possessiveness through me.
My Amara. Our Amara.
“You’re taking us so well, piccola.” My teeth graze her shoulder as I thrust deeper, feeling Caleb’s movements through the thin barrier inside her.
Her back arches, pressing her spine against my chest. I slide one hand up to cup her breast, my thumb circling her hardened nipple. Caleb’s hand mirrors mine on her other breast, our fingers occasionally brushing against each other.
“Dom,” she gasps, turning her head to seek my lips. I capture her mouth in a hungry kiss, swallowing her moans as our tongues dance together.
When I release her lips, Caleb pulls her down for his own kiss. I don’t feel the jealousy I expected—instead, watching them ignites something primal in me.
I run my hands through her hair, gathering it in my fist and gently pulling her head back to expose the column of her throat.
“Look at you,” I murmur, my lips trailing down her neck. “Taking both of your men so beautifully.”
My free hand slides around to her front, fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. She jerks at the contact, and a strangled cry escapes her lips.
“That’s it,” I encourage, circling my fingers in time with our thrusts. “Let us hear you.”
Caleb’s eyes meet mine over her shoulder, dark with desire.
His hand joins mine between her legs, our fingers working together to bring her pleasure.
“She’s close,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
I feel it too—the way her body tightens around me, the quickening of her breath.
My release builds, a pressure at the base of my spine threatening to explode.
“Come with us, piccola,” I tell her. “We’re all going to come together.”
“Oh my God.” Her body tightens around us both as she cries out.
Her orgasm triggering ours and the three of us come together, our bodies locked like we belong with each other.
Slowly, I pull out of Amara and she winces slightly as I do. Her body is limp when I lift her carefully off Caleb’s chest, cradling her against me like she’s made of glass.
Her skin is flushed, a thin sheen of sweat making her glow in the afternoon light filtering through the blinds.
“Are you okay, piccola?” I whisper, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead.
She nods weakly, her eyes heavy-lidded.
“Better than okay,” she murmurs.
I carry her to the bathroom, Caleb following close behind. He turns on the shower, adjusting the temperature while I hold her against my chest.
“Let me take care of you,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You were perfect for us.”
The steam fills the room as Caleb tests the water with his hand. “It’s ready,” he says.
I step into the shower with Amara still in my arms, letting the warm water cascade over us both. She sighs contentedly as I gently set her on her feet, keeping my arms around her waist to steady her.
Caleb joins us, grabbing the soap and working it into a lather between his hands. Together, we wash her body, our hands gentle as they move across her skin. I’m careful around her more sensitive areas, noting the slight wince when I touch between her legs.
“Sore?” I ask.
She nods, her eyelids heavy. “Worth it, though.”
My phone rings from the bedroom, the sound barely audible over the running water. I ignore it, focusing on Amara’s needs first. But it rings again, insistent.
“You should get that,” she says. “It might be important.”
I hesitate, reluctant to leave her.
“Go,” Caleb says. “I’ve got her.”
I look at him, at the way he holds Amara with such care, and I nod. “I’ll be right back.”
I step out of the shower, quickly drying myself with a towel before wrapping it around my waist. The phone continues to ring as I walk into the bedroom and grab my phone, looking at the caller.
Unknown. I assume it’s Antonio Conti. I told him we needed to discuss Mateo’s behavior. This better be important.
“De Luca,” I answer.
But it’s not Antonio. It’s Detective Ingram, the woman who informed us about Helena’s death.
“Mr. de Luca, we have some news regarding Helena Bailey’s case,” she says, her voice professional but with an edge I can’t quite place. “Can I come to your home to discuss it with you?”
I tense, glancing back toward the bathroom where the shower still runs, where Amara is safe in Caleb’s arms, unaware that her mother’s ghost is about to destroy our perfect afternoon.