Chapter 35
35
CELIA
T he house was empty, locked up tonight with guards set outside the gates, and it felt too quiet. I hesitated in the hallway of my own house, outside Dante’s door.
It was my house, but it didn’t feel like my home.
Home was with all three of them, as much as I knew that was madness. I’d needed my space, and I was glad I’d had the chance to work through what I wanted and needed without their all-consuming presence.
It turned out that what I wanted was, indeed, them.
I knocked on Dante’s door. No one answered, and I frowned.
There were quiet feet on the stairs, and I took a step back, feeling a sudden surge of fear. There was no escaping the way I felt in this house, the way that the years of abuse and torment had turned this into a haunted house.
Burning the gilded cage had been nothing. This was the place I needed to burn down.
But it was Dante, coming up the stairs. He had a box under one arm, a bruise across his cheek, blood smeared across his knuckles.
He looked tired, but that dropped away when he saw me, his face brightening. “Celia.”
Every time he said my name, I was reminded of all the years I’d spent thinking I’d never hear his voice again. I felt a rush of joy.
“What have you been up to, Dante?”
“Not just me. I was with Gabriel and Luca.”
“Where did you get the bruises?” I crossed the distance between us and touched his cheek. “Not Gabriel?”
“No.” He scoffed as if the idea were ridiculous. He held out his hand. “Come here. We have a present for you.”
I went downstairs with him. Together, we padded across the dimly-lit marble foyer and down the hallway toward the study where I’d first met Gabriel again.
In the study, the fireplace was crackling, and Luca was busy making drinks at the bar.
“Where’s Gabriel?” I asked, surprised to find myself disappointed by his absence.
“He’s trying to listen to you for once,” Luca said, carrying a drink over to me. When he handed it over, I felt the same electric tingle I always did when Luca’s fingers brushed mine. I wasn’t sure it would ever fade. “He asked us to help him with something, and then he went back home.”
Home . It really did feel like home.
“What is it?” I popped my free hand on my hip, since my other hand was holding my drink. “You three kept enough secrets from me for a lifetime.”
“I know.” Dante sunk into the couch and held out an arm for me. “But this is just a present. Don’t ruin it.”
I sat on his lap, since he’d offered, and he wrapped his arm around me. Luca sat on the other side of the couch, and I noticed the box Dante had carried set between the two of them.
“Let me guess,” I said. “Is this the head of someone who wronged me?”
“No.” Dante seemed shocked, as if that would really be shocking from the two of them.
I crinkled my nose. “Is it hands? It’s not a dick, is it? I really don’t want a dick.”
“Celia!” Luca cut me off. “It isn’t a body part. Your father stole something from you a long time ago, and it took us time to track it down.”
“Time and blood?” I asked, touching the edge of Dante’s split-open knuckles.
“Not much of ours,” Luca said with a sharkish, satisfied grin. “He had a few stashes around the city of valuables he’d left with various sycophants. We had to work our way through the list to bring back what’s yours.”
I looked at him curiously, remembering suddenly how I’d told Gabriel about my mother’s letters. Had he really remembered? Then had he been driven to get them back for me? He had barely seemed to hear me at the time.
I lifted the lid off the box, torn between fragile hope and my usual dooms-day thoughts in response.
In the box were piles of photos and several letters. I picked out the first one and opened the creased white paper to find my mother’s handwriting. I hadn’t seen it in years; she’d had bubbly, loopy handwriting, and before I could even read anything, my vision blurred with tears.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Dante’s arms tightened around me. He pressed a kiss to my temple, and his presence felt so warm and comforting.
My fingers trembled on the page. I wanted to read it, but I couldn’t even see the page. There was a long pause, and I felt as much as saw Dante and Luca exchange glances, trying to figure out what to do.
“Do you want me to read it?” Luca held out his hand.
“Yes, please.” Maybe we could all pretend my voice didn’t break when I handed it to him.
Dear Celia,
Happy birthday! Now you are five! You love to draw and color. I treasure all the pictures you make for me! You almost always put one by my plate for breakfast, and it’s the very best way I can imagine starting the day—with your pictures and your good morning hugs and kisses.
You bring me so much joy. You can be shy and reserved with strangers, but you are full of light with the ones you love. You are so clever, always figuring things out about the world and asking questions. And even though you are usually so quiet and sweet, you know what you want—and you can be so brave and fierce too as you pursue those things.
You love fairy tales like Mulan and Cinderella. You love happy endings. Whatever your life holds, even if your fairy tale has some dark twists and scary villains, I know you will make yourself a happy ending. I am so proud of you and I always will be.
The sob that broke free of my chest surprised me. It was as if those words had been spoken directly to the little girl I’d once been, the one who had stood alone in a crowd of mourners at the edge of my mother’s gravesite.
Dante pulled me closer until my head rested against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, steady and sure, counting out seconds in a world that had kept turning even after my mother had stopped.
“She was right.” Luca leaned forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch lingered on my cheek, a whisper of skin on skin that sent a current through me.
“You made it through everything, Celia,” Dante told me quietly. I turned to look at him, finding his eyes—dark as deep water—fixed on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “You made your own happy ending.”
“Almost.” I brushed tears out of my eyes.
I knew what I needed for my happy ending.
Dante kissed me again, holding me against his warm chest, rubbing circles across my back.
“You don’t have to be alone with this,” Luca murmured, his lips close to my temple. “With anything.”
I felt it then: the shift in the air around us, like a door opening to a room I’d been standing outside of for too long. Luca’s hand moved from my cheek to the nape of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. Dante’s arm tightened around me, his other hand finding my waist.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I admitted, the words coming out more vulnerable than I’d intended.
Dante leaned forward, his breath warm against my lips for a heartbeat before he kissed me. It was gentle at first, questioning, but when I pressed back against him, parting my lips, he deepened the kiss with a hunger that matched the sudden flare of need inside me.
Luca’s mouth found the curve where my neck met my shoulder, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. I gasped into Dante’s mouth, my body responding before my mind caught up.
I turned to Luca, finding his mouth with mine as Dante’s hands began exploring the dips and curves of my body through my dress. Luca kissed differently than Dante. Where Dante was all fire and need, Luca was pure sensation, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that made me think of darker, more intimate acts.
“Is this what you want?” Dante asked against my ear, his voice rough with restraint.
I nodded, then found my voice. “Yes. Both of you. I want—” I couldn’t finish, but my body spoke for me, arching toward Dante’s touch as Luca’s hands slid up my thighs, bunching the fabric of my dress.
“We’ve wanted this,” Luca confessed, his accent thicker than usual. “Wanted you. Together.”
“For so long,” Dante added, his eyes holding mine as his fingers found the zipper of my dress. As he began to tease it down, Luca met my gaze with a wink and a mischievous grin, stripping off his own shirt. I admired the leanly muscled length of his body, his muscles flexing under tattooed skin.
The sound of the zipper sliding down was unnaturally loud in the quiet room. I shivered, not from cold but from exposure. Not just of skin, but of desire. They helped me out of my dress with a reverence that made me feel like something precious rather than broken. In my bra and underwear, I should have felt vulnerable, but their gazes—appreciative, hungry—made me feel powerful.
“Come here,” Dante said, pulling me toward him until I was straddling his lap, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing against the thin cotton of my underwear. His mouth found mine again as Luca moved behind me, his hands unclasping my bra with practiced ease.
As it fell away, Luca’s hands covered my breasts, his palms rough against my nipples. I broke the kiss with Dante, my head falling back against Luca’s shoulder as a moan escaped me. Dante took advantage of my exposed throat, his lips and teeth marking a path down to where Luca’s hands kneaded my flesh.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Luca whispered, his erection pressing against the small of my back.
I reached behind me, finding him through his jeans, stroking the hard length of him. His breath hitched, his fingers tightening on my breasts in response. Dante’s hand slid between my legs, pressing against the damp fabric there.
“Already so wet,” he observed, his voice tinged with wonder.
I rocked against his hand, seeking more pressure. “Please,” I breathed, not entirely sure what I was asking for, just knowing I needed more of them, all of them.
They laid me back on the couch, Dante moving between my legs while Luca kissed me deeply, swallowing my gasp as Dante pulled my underwear aside and ran his tongue along my center. The sensation was electric, sharp pleasure shooting through me as he found and circled the bundle of nerves there.
Luca’s mouth moved to my breasts, his teeth grazing one nipple while his fingers rolled the other. I was overwhelmed by sensation, my hips rising to meet Dante’s mouth as he slid one finger inside me, then another, curling them in a way that made me cry out.
“I want to taste you too,” I managed to say between gasps.
Dante looked up, his mouth glistening. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said, more certain of this than I’d been of anything in weeks.
They rearranged themselves, Dante standing to shed his remaining clothes while Luca helped me sit up. Dante’s body was a study of angles and planes, his cock rising. I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his thickness, feeling him pulse against my palm.
I slid from the couch to my knees, Luca’s hands steadying me as I guided Dante to my mouth. The first taste of him was salt and musk, the sound he made as I took him between my lips a reward in itself. I worked him slowly at first, learning the weight and feel of him on my tongue.
Luca watched, his hand stroking my back, occasionally dipping lower to trace the curve of my spine. “That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice rough with need. “Take him deeper.”
I did, relaxing my throat to take more of Dante, my hands gripping his thighs for balance. Dante’s fingers threaded through my hair, not guiding, just connecting. I looked up at him, finding his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my core tighten with need.
“Fuck, Celia,” he groaned as I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder. “Your mouth…”
Luca’s hands moved to my hips, lifting me slightly as he slid beneath me on the floor. I felt the heat of his mouth between my legs, his tongue finding places Dante’s fingers had explored earlier. The dual sensation—Dante filling my mouth as Luca’s tongue slid inside me—nearly undid me.
I moaned around Dante, the vibration making him thrust involuntarily deeper. I welcomed it, taking him further as Luca’s tongue worked magic below. The pressure was building inside me, a coiling tension that threatened to snap.
“Wait,” Dante said suddenly, pulling back. “Not yet. I want…”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice soft. “I want that too.”
Luca emerged from beneath me, his face shining with evidence of my arousal. “Bedroom,” he suggested, helping me to my feet.
But Dante shook his head. “Here. I can’t wait.”
There was something primal in his urgency that resonated with my own need. Luca seemed to feel it too, quickly stripping off his remaining clothes. His body was magnificent—powerful thighs and a stomach rippled with muscle, his erection thick and insistent.
Dante reached for his discarded jeans, retrieving a condom from his wallet. Luca did the same, both of them preparing themselves as I watched, my desire mounting at the sight. Then Luca was sitting on the couch, reaching for me.
“Come here,” he said, his voice gentle despite the hunger in his eyes.
I straddled him, feeling the blunt head of him pressing against my entrance. With a slow, deliberate movement, I sank down, taking him inside me inch by exquisite inch. The stretch of him was delicious pain, my body accommodating his size with a welcoming heat.
“Christ,” he swore, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “You feel?—”
“Perfect,” I finished for him, beginning to move, finding a rhythm that sent sparks shooting up my spine.
Dante moved behind me, his hands spreading me open. “Is this okay?” he asked, his finger circling the tight ring of muscle there.
“Yes,” I breathed, surprising myself with how much I wanted this. Both of them, completely. “There’s lube in the side table.”
He retrieved it, warming it between his palms before returning. I felt the cool liquid against my heated skin, then the pressure of his fingertip working into me slowly, preparing me. Luca held still beneath me with obvious effort, his face a mask of restrained pleasure.
When Dante finally positioned himself behind me, pressing against the tight opening, I breathed deeply, relaxing into the intrusion. There was pain, sharp and bright, but it mingled with the pleasure of Luca inside me in a way that transcended both sensations.
“Slowly,” Luca cautioned Dante, his hands stroking my sides soothingly.
Dante eased forward by increments, allowing me to adjust to the fullness, the impossible stretch of containing both of them. When he was fully inside me, we all remained still for a long moment, connected in the most intimate way possible.
“You’re incredible,” Dante murmured against my shoulder, pressing kisses to my skin.
I felt stretched to my limits, filled completely, held securely between their bodies. Then Luca gently pulled back and stroked back, and the movement sent a jolt of pleasure through me so intense that I cried out.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked immediately, concern breaking through his desire.
“No,” I gasped. “God, no. Please move. Both of you.”
They established a rhythm—Luca thrusting up as Dante withdrew, then Dante pushing in as Luca pulled back—that kept me constantly filled, constantly on the edge of overstimulation. The dual sensations built upon each other, creating a pressure inside me that expanded with each movement.
“Look at me,” Luca commanded softly, his hand cupping my cheek. I met his gaze, finding something there beyond lust—a tenderness that anchored me as pleasure threatened to sweep me away.
Dante’s hands gripped my hips, his strokes becoming more urgent. “I can’t—” He started, his rhythm faltering.
“Let go,” I urged him, feeling my own release building, a tidal wave gathering force.
His climax triggered mine—the pulsing of him inside me sending me over the edge into white-hot pleasure that ripped through me with such force I might have screamed. I felt Luca follow, his body tensing beneath me as he groaned my name like a prayer.
We collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and cooling skin. Dante withdrew carefully, pressing a kiss to my shoulder blade before disappearing briefly to clean up. Luca held me against his chest, his heartbeat gradually slowing beneath my ear.
Luca was still holding me when Dante returned and carefully gathered my mother’s letters back into the box. The sight of him handling them as if they were dear to him caused tears to rise to my eyes, but this time, I wasn’t exactly sad. I missed her, and I missed the life I could’ve had if my childhood had unfolded differently.
But I was happy to be living my life as it was too.
“What do you think?” I asked them. “Is it time to go home?”
Dante stood from the box with a big grin breaking across his face. Luca grinned in delight and hugged me tight, and then Dante was hugging us both. They hadn’t complained or pushed, they’d just been here helping me in my old house, but now it was clear what they wanted.
And now I was clear on what I wanted too.