EPILOGUE ONE
Hey, Mama
RAF
Six weeks later
Thank God it’s the weekend. After our impromptu vow renewal by starlight, we spent a few extra weeks in Italy so Chiara could show me around her favorite places and take me to where her parents have been laid to rest so she could introduce me.
It sounds morbid, but it was extremely moving, and I wish I’d had a chance to meet them and tell them in person how much I adore their only daughter and how incredible I know she’s going to be as the mother of our children.
Yep. We found out this week that we’re expecting twins—and today we’re going to announce our news to our family and cut cakes Chiara organized which are going to reveal their gender.
I didn’t really care for the fuss, but Chiara wanted to do something fun and find out with everyone else seeing as most of our relationship has been shrouded in secrecy and very low-key for two people from extroverted families who love to celebrate anything with lavish fanfare.
Luca has a week off from racing, so he’s flying in for a quick visit, and AJ is also back in New York with his brothers Christian and Matteo who are here to discuss business opportunities with Marco and Seb, but we’ll dial in Chiara’s Uncle Gino a bit later.
She’s been more tired than usual, and round-the-clock nausea some days makes it hard for her to function, but mostly she just looks fucking radiant.
She’d disagree, but watching my wife’s belly and breasts bloom is one of the best things I’ve experienced in my life—not to mention, it makes it hard to concentrate on anything other than how I want to devour her.
Speaking of hard to concentrate, all thoughts flee my mind when I make it to the kitchen and find her barefoot, wearing one of my white button-down shirts.
Her back is to me and the music, in true Chiara fashion, is so fucking loud that she doesn’t even know I’m there—a fact that gives way to unease, because I hate to think about danger lurking and her being completely oblivious.
I pull my thoughts back to the present, remembering “the danger” no longer exists, but you can never be too cautious—unfortunately our name makes us targets.
I know thoughts like this sometimes plague my wife, so I make sure to keep my irrational ones under lock and key and be the voice of reason she needs because she’s spent enough of her life living in fear, and I promised her a different future, an existence filled with joy.
Work has been intense; the jury in Arty’s case handed down a guilty verdict, but the process of sentencing is long and arduous.
Even with a sentencing hearing set, it’s likely the family will use their money and power to appeal.
I intend on using every resource at our firm’s disposal to make sure that sick fuck gets the punishment he deserves.
One bright spot out of everything is that Mia and Chiara have reconnected and she’ll be coming today.
Given the highly publicized nature of the case and her family ties, I asked Marco to have Avery be her bodyguard.
When my wife is not with me or at home, I have another one of Marco’s men accompany her.
I might not share my fears with her, but there’s no price too great for peace of mind that my wife and babies are safe.
Chiara’s standing at the island, preparing some of her favorite dishes for our family dinner, my mom and Sophia agreeing to bring some too.
There are a lot of mouths to feed and I insisted we get it catered, but neither my mother nor my wife would hear of it.
They’ve formed a relationship that will never replace the one Chiara missed out on with her own mother, but it goes some way to being the next best thing as they bond over cooking, shopping, and the arts.
I lean against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, just watching her as she dances and sings with abandon, pure joy radiating from the simple act of enjoying a feel-good song that makes you want to move to the beat.
It’s her child-like innocence that I find endearing, the way small things like taking photos of interesting things she sees on her travels or selfies in the moment so she doesn’t forget all the things that bring her happiness.
Though to be clear, I know full well all the not-so-innocent sides of my wife too.
She’s the entire package. Sultry and sweet, demure and depraved, an addiction I’ll never be able to quit.
I take a moment to drink her in. Her dark hair is piled haphazardly atop her head, and the outline of her black lacy thong teases me from under my shirt with each sway of her hips as she rolls them to “Smooth” by Rob Thomas and Santana.
In between humming, she sings the chorus, her moves getting more pronounced with each pass of the chorus.
I can feel my cock swelling in my sweats, the sight of her in my shirt and the beckoning call of her now curvier body with each sway calling to me.
She pauses to read the recipe on her iPad, moving gently to the last chords of the song.
When the song finishes, I clap slowly as I stalk towards her. She spins quickly, startled by my appearance.
“Raf! You scared Jesus, Mary, and Joseph outta me,” she says, slowly walking backwards as I press in closer.
“Sweetheart, I can tell you with complete faith, they would have all gotten the hell outta here months ago,” I say, closing the distance and grabbing the collar of my shirt and hauling her to me, noting she’s not wearing a bra, her heavy breasts outlined and her nipples peaked underneath.
“And moving your beautiful curvy ass and gorgeous hips like that.” I punctuate the last two words by backing her up against the bench and pressing my body to her front while skimming my hands under the hem of the shirt to find the curve of her ass cheeks, grabbing them and hoisting her into my arms. Her eyes gleam with want, and she wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist.
“Hmmmm, good morning Daddy. Did you enjoy your sleep in?” she coos as I spin her around and walk us back over the kitchen island.
“Waking up would have been more fun if you were still there, Mama,” I say, nuzzling into her neck, clearing the space with little care of what I’m knocking over and placing her down gently on the bench top.
I pull her right to the edge as I run my hands down her body, over her growing belly and along her inner thighs, spreading them wide.
“But you can make it up to me with breakfast,” I say with a wink, before kneeling in front of her, my face at eye level with her pussy. She scrapes her nails through my hair as I run a finger down the front of her lace panties, her arousal dancing in my nose and making my mouth water for a taste.
“Hmmmm. Already saturated for Daddy?”
Her breath hitches as I push the scrap of fabric away and run a finger through her wet slit. She keeps herself bare, and I fucking love that I can see every inch of her.
“Is your breakfast to your liking, sir?” she says on a breathy moan.
“Absolutely fucking perfect. I’ll take my breakfast with a side of lap dancing any day.”
She giggles, and it quickly turns to pants as I methodically circle her clit with my tongue as I work one then two fingers into her entrance, slowly fucking her with them as I swirl and flick her clit.
“Well it’s not really a lap dance if I didn’t know you were there.” She gasps as I swap my fingers and tongue, fucking her opening while I quickly strum her clit with two fingers. “And I didn’t even sit on your lap.” She finishes with the buck of her hips as she climbs closer to her climax.
“Don’t worry, my Little Devil. After I lap at this sweet pussy and make you come all over my face, then you can sit on my lap and rub your soaked needy cunt all over my cock, soaking him too, getting him nice and ready for me to fill you to the hilt.”
Her breath is coming out in short gasps, like I’ve knocked the wind out of her, and I slow down, staving off her orgasm for a little longer.
“Raf, please,” she whines as she starts to roll her hips to meet the long flat of my tongue as I run it from her back hole to her clit, flicking on each of her holes with each pass.
I chuckle against her wet heat, and she moans even louder.
“You just look so fucking sexy carrying my babies in your belly and wearing my shirt with nothing but a scrap of lace. There’s nothing I want to do more than claim you as mine. Over and over.”
And I do, driving my fingers and tongue into her until she comes on a scream.
I let her catch her breath, eyes closed, hand over her heaving chest. I stand quickly and drop my sweats.
Then I step back in between her open thighs, the evidence of making her my entrée glistening on her bare cunt and inner thighs.
I lean over, putting my face over hers, stroking her cheek softly.
She opens her eyes then, her glazed moss-green pupils blown wide in post-orgasm bliss.
She beams up at me lazily, the peacefulness that paints her features so stunning, like none of the worries I know that plague her exist.
“You ready to give me that lap dance now, little mama?” I murmur as I quickly unbutton the front of my shirt and push it off her shoulders as I bring her to sitting.
I bend my head and wrap my lips around each of her stiff nipples, sucking hard enough to have her heaving a sharp intake of breath.
They’re even more sensitive now. The sharp bite of pain spurs her on, and she instinctively wraps her legs around my body and pushes her feet into my ass to bring my cock closer to where she wants it.
I grip her hips firmly, anchoring myself to her and this moment as tingles erupt all over my skin at the soft brush of her fingertips down my bare chest.
“Gotta get them all in before this belly is too big,” she laughs breathily as I knead the flesh on her hips letting her take control.
She bites her lip as she grabs my heavy cock and runs it through her folds before firmly swirling the engorged head around her swollen bud.
We both moan, and I can feel my control slipping away.
“I’ll take my lap dances from you any way I can get them, baby.”
“So take it, Raf. Take it how you want it.”
I don’t hesitate. The rough squeeze of the globes of her ass is the only warning I give as I lift her and piston myself into her repeatedly.
She holds on tight, buries her face in my neck, kissing and nipping at any bit of skin she can mark.
Her pussy tightens around me and I stiffen completely, my cock throbbing as she spasms around me, triggering my orgasm which zips up my spine and rips through me with a ferocity I don’t expect.
We cling to each other until we’ve both caught our breath, and I pull back to look down at her, realizing the rise and fall of her shoulders look a lot like she’s trying to stifle sobs.
“Angel, what’s the matter?” I say, alarmed, gripping her chin with my thumb and forefinger to lift her farce to mine.
“I-I-I…I don’t know! I think it’s just all the hormones,” she says, half laughing, half crying.
She looks sad, but there’s also fear in her eyes, and not for the first time I worry that something is going on that she hasn’t told me about.
“What if I’m not a good mom?” She sniffs. “What if something bad happens?”
“Sweetheart, you’re already the best mom to these babies. I don’t want you to think about any of that shit ever. Only good things, yeah.”
She nods. I lick away her tears, which makes her giggle.
“Tell me something good,” she says.
“I can’t wait to walk into this kitchen and hear our children squealing and my wife’s laughter. It’s the ultimate dream.”
“I love you, Raf.”
“I love you too, angel,” I say kissing her nose. “Come on, let’s uh, disinfect the bench, shower, and then I’ll help you finish up preparing for dinner,” I say as I lift her from the bench and set her feet back on the ground.
She presses her front to mine and looks up at me through wet lashes, giving me a devious smile.
“Lucky you had the good sense to take your breakfast as far as possible from my ingredients. Otherwise I would have had to kill you. I’ve been working on those recipes all morning.”
“I know, I watched you getting your chef on with your booty wiggle before I made a meal of you,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.
“You have impeccable table manners.”
“Only the very best for you, Mama,” I say as I heave her into my arms and carry her to the shower.