Epilogue Isabella #2
When his mouth closes over my nipple, I gasp, the sensation sending a jolt straight to my core.
He takes his time, teasing, sucking, until I’m writhing beneath him.
Then he’s moving lower still, his hands sliding down my sides, his lips pressing kisses to my stomach, my hips, the inside of my thighs.
I can feel his breath, hot and teasing, just before his tongue finds me. The first touch is slow, exploratory, and I moan softly, my hands gripping the edge of the daybed. He doesn’t rush, his tongue circling, flicking, building the pressure until I’m trembling, my body coiled tight.
“Lupo—”
He doesn’t let me finish. His hands slide under my thighs, lifting me slightly, opening me to him.
His tongue moves with deliberate slowness, driving me higher with every stroke.
I bite my lip to keep from crying out, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
The tension builds, unbearable, until I’m on the edge, my body trembling.
“Let go, Isabella,” he murmurs against me. “I want to hear you.”
I shake my head, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers join his tongue, and the world narrows to the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his touch. The orgasm crashes over me, wave after wave, and he covers my mouth with his hand to muffle the sound of his name on my lips.
He doesn’t stop, drawing out every last shudder, every gasp, until I’m boneless and breathless. Only then does he move back up, his body covering mine, his erection pressing against my thigh.
I reach for him, my hand wrapping around him, feeling the heat, the hardness. He groans, his forehead resting against mine as I stroke him, slow at first, then faster. His breath hitches, his hips jerking slightly as I tighten my grip.
“Fuck, Isabella—”
I don’t let him finish. I push him gently onto his back, my mouth following the path my hand had taken.
He’s already slick with need, the taste of him salty and intoxicating.
I take him deep, my tongue swirling, my lips tight around him.
His hands tangle in my hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Isabella, I’m—”
I don’t stop, not until he comes with a choked cry, his body shuddering, his release hot on my tongue. I swallow, my lips lingering, my hand still gentle as he comes down, his breath slow and unsteady.
For a moment, we just lie there, tangled together, our hearts pounding in sync. Then he pulls me up, his mouth finding mine again, kissing me deeply, as if he could pour all his love, all his need, into that single touch.
“We have ten minutes left,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough with promise.
He settles between my legs, his weight perfect, his heat overwhelming. When he enters me, we both gasp. This connection. This feeling of being completely, utterly his. It never gets old.
He moves slowly at first, his eyes locked on mine, building the tension. But I don’t want slow. I don’t want gentle. I want him. All of him.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Don’t hold back.”
Something in his expression shifts. The careful control slips. “Isabella—”
“I want all of you. Give me everything.”
He groans, and his pace quickens. Harder. Deeper. Exactly what I need. I clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging in, my body rising to meet his every thrust. The daybed creaks beneath us, the sound lost in the rush of blood in my ears, the gasps and moans we can’t quite muffle.
“You feel so good,” he growls against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “So perfect. Mine.”
“Yours,” I gasp. “Always yours.”
His hand slides between us, finding my clit. The combination of his fingers and his body and the look in his eyes—it’s too much. The orgasm hits me like a storm, my body arching, my cry muffled against his shoulder. He follows seconds later, burying his face in my neck.
For a long moment, we just lie there. Breathing hard. Hearts pounding. Tangled together on a daybed in the pool house like teenagers.
“I love you,” he whispers again, his lips brushing my temple.
“I love you too.”
We clean up quickly with the towels stacked nearby. Because of course Lupo thought of everything. We get dressed, trying to look like we weren’t just messing around in the pool house.
“Your hair’s a mess,” I tell him, my fingers combing through the damp strands.
“So is yours.” He grins, unrepentant. “Elena won’t notice.”
I laugh softly, leaning into him, my heart still racing. “We’re terrible at this.”
“At what?” He kisses the top of my head, his arm wrapping around me.
“Sneaking around.”
He chuckles, low and warm. “I don’t care. I’d do it a thousand times over for you.”
We’re barely dressed when I hear Elena's voice calling from somewhere near the pool.
"Daddy! Mama! Where are you?"
Lupo grins at me as he pulls his swim trunks back on. "Told you. Twenty minutes."
"More like fifteen." I'm frantically trying to fix my hair, which is an absolute disaster.
"We'll say we were looking for more towels." He pulls a few from the stack and hands them to me. "Here. Evidence."
"You're ridiculous."
"And you love me." He steals one more quick kiss. "Come on, wife. Before she figures out what we were really doing."
"She's three and a half. She won't figure it out."
"No, but Emilia will." He unlocks the door and peers out. "Coast is clear. Act natural."
"Act natural while carrying suspicious towels without a purpose?"
"Exactly." He takes my hand and we step out into the sunshine just as Elena comes running around the corner.
"There you are! Emilia says we can make cookies!"
"That sounds wonderful. I’m starving! Swimming works up an appetite." Lupo turns to wink at me. He doesn't even have the grace to look guilty. "Mama and I were just getting more towels."
Elena accepts this without question and runs back toward the house, already chattering about what kind of cookies she wants to make.
I elbow him gently. "You're a terrible liar too."
"I told the truth. We got towels." He holds them up as evidence, his grin wicked. "Eventually."
As we walk back toward the house, hand in hand, Elena running ahead of us, I catch sight of Emilia standing at the kitchen window. She sees us and shakes her head with a knowing smile before turning away.
"Do you ever regret it?" Lupo asks quietly. "This life. The guards. The rules. All of it."
I think about it.
Six months ago, I was living on a farm, scraping by, constantly looking over my shoulder for Draco's people.
Now I live in a villa. I have guards. My daughter has swimming lessons and a princess bedroom and fresh eggs from her own chickens.
I have a husband who loves me. Who protects us. Who reads bedtime stories and builds chicken coops and makes me feel cherished every single day.
Yes, there are guards. Yes, there are rules. Yes, there's always the awareness that danger exists.
But there's also safety. Real safety. The kind that comes from power and resources and a man who would burn the world down to keep us safe.
"No," I say honestly. "I don't regret it. Not for a second."
"Even though it's not normal? Not what you dreamed of?"
"I dreamed of being safe. Being loved. Having a partner who respects me." I squeeze his hand. "You've given me all of that and more."
"But the danger—"
"Is less here than it ever was on the farm." I squeeze his hand. "At the farm, I was vulnerable. Exposed. Draco found us. Others could have too. But here? Here you have the power to protect us. The resources to eliminate threats before they reach us."
"Still. It's not the life you chose."
"Neither is any of this." I gesture at the villa, the pool, the luxury surrounding us.
"I didn't choose to marry into the mafia.
Didn't choose to have guards and bulletproof cars and security protocols.
" I turn to face him. "But I chose you. Every day, I choose you.
And this—" I gesture around us. "This is just the package that comes with you.
And I'd choose you a thousand times over. "
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he pulls me close, pressing his forehead to mine.
"I don't deserve you."
"We've established that. But you're stuck with me anyway."
"Good." He kisses me softly. "Because I'm never letting you go."
We stand there for a while, just holding each other. Looking at our life. Our home.
And I'm grateful for every moment that led us here.
To this life, this family and all this love.
Not the life I imagined, but the life I’d choose again tomorrow.