Epilogue
EPILOUGE
FIVE MONTHS LATER
LUIGI
Cazzo!
My eyes opened to find my dick balls deep in my wife’s mouth.
She was straddling me. Naked. Eating my cock like it was her favourite sweet.
I was helpless beneath her ravishing mouth, and begrudging her was never a task I was up to.
Half asleep, my hand drifted down and grabbed hold of her hair.
Floating between dream and reality, my hips moved, pumping into her.
Her face tilted, and it came into view, peeping through the black curtain of her hair. She was a vision, and it felt like a dream again. Fucking her always felt like a dream.
Mine, I thought, but I might have muttered it aloud because her lips pulled into a smug smile wrapped around my cock.
I lost focus as I swelled inside her mouth.
My balls tightened, and my head dropped back.
The next instant, I was grunting and shooting my cum into her mouth.
As always, she didn’t let a single drop, go to waste and licked me until I was dry.
A content sigh left me. I wanted to remain like this forever.
Just the two of us. I could fuck her all day long.
Not a bad idea. She lifted her face off my groin, and my dick slipped out, still semi-hard.
Soon. I groped for her ass cheeks and pulled her up as I slid down the bed.
Orietta was a lot of things. Shy wasn’t one of them.
She knew what I wanted, and she firmly planted her pussy on my face.
An invitation and a challenge painted across her smile.
She was dripping. Sucking me off always got her wet.
The first lick of my tongue along her slit pulled out a hum of pleasure from her.
I plunged the tip of my tongue inside her, together with two of my fingers.
Her hands came for my hair. She didn’t have much to grab onto, but she made the most of it and ripped it almost out of my skull as she rode me.
Her moans built up. They were fucking music to my ears.
Reaching up, I grabbed one of her bouncing tits and pinched her nipple.
She let me know she loved the attention by rocking her hips wildly.
She was well on her way to breaking my jaw.
It was an injury I’d carry with pride. Soon, she was clenching around my digits, and then she was coming, a pool of wetness on my face and a scream of pleasure on her lips.
It encouraged me to keep going, building her right back up.
Her thighs trembled and gripped my face.
She arched her back on top of me, and a slow, needy moan fell again, sliding like velvet from her lips to my dick.
Then her skin flushed, a pink tint that rushed from her cunt to the tips of her ears, and she fell apart again on top of me.
This time, I allowed her to come down from her high.
She did so by sagging down, limbs uncoordinated from her recent rush.
I shifted her off my face, slid below her, and got to my knees.
She was on her belly, face buried in the mattress, and ass up.
A tempting sight that I couldn’t allow to go to waste.
My cock was hard again, and all it needed was one pump, and I was ready.
Pushing on her head to keep her down, I coated my cock along her slit.
She mumbled something into the mattress, the words dissolving in the rumbled sheets.
“What?” My voice was still hoarse from sleep and a late night. We’d had a shipment come in last night, and I’d dropped into bed next to her around three a.m., exhausted and in hell, and woke up to a dream.
She shifted her face to the side and blew to get rid of the hair tangling around her mouth. “No time.”
I became aware of my surroundings. The sun was reaching up, and the day was dry. Unusual for December. The clock read ten a.m.
“We have plans? It’s a fucking Sunday.”
“I have plans,” she corrected me.
“What? Not going to church, are you?”
She had been in therapy now for two years.
Sometimes she did things that were out of her comfort zone.
Although going to church was one that was so far out of her comfort zone that it may as well have been a trip to Mexico.
She was shaking her head while wiggling her ass.
It made me forget there was an outside world.
I pushed inside her, and she didn’t object.
Quite the opposite. She rocked her hips back, trying to get me to move.
In spite of it, I knew her well. Sometimes she liked to take control, and I allowed her to do so gladly.
But other times, she wanted me to take control to help her when it got overwhelming.
She was needy today. She reached down between her legs and grabbed my balls, squeezing.
My hands fisted in her hair, and I yanked her face to look at me as I pounded inside her.
Her eyes were a mirror of emotion. Lust. Desire.
Anticipation. And nervous energy. She didn’t hide any of it from my prying eyes.
We were gripped in each other’s emotions. Finally, she saw mine.
After two years in therapy, she believed herself worthy of my love.
She knew I wasn’t going anywhere where she wasn’t part of my world.
I was so fucking proud of her. I told her that, and as if that was the stab of pleasure she needed more than my cock inside her, she came apart with a scream.
I chased after her, looking for my own rush, and found it when I emptied my cum inside her.
It drained me of my energy, and I fell on my back.
What a morning. Then I turned to face her, and her lips were trembling, and I knew we weren’t done. Not yet, anyway.
ORIETTA
He was still catching his breath. His tattooed torso rose and fell, a living, breathing work of art rippling beneath my shaky fingers.
I traced the pattern, finding comfort in the ink and the permanence of it on his skin.
He was so handsome. So utterly hot. So mine.
Sometimes I had a hard time believing it.
This man loved me. This man wanted me. Needed me.
“What?” He reached out, his index finger trailing on my cheek, painting it with a warmth that soothed me. I tilted my face and leaned into it. He caught it by cupping his palm around it.
I hadn’t realised I’d moved, and I was on my knees, half leaning over him.
Trying desperately to unstick my lips to get the words out that I had yearned to tell him for all these years.
He saw me trying, yet he didn’t push me.
He never pushed me. He just waited until I was ready.
I was ready now. My lips opened, and it was like they’d been sealed with superglue.
They were dry, so I had to lick them to speak.
Sounds emitted that should have been words.
His confusion told me it hadn’t produced what I’d hoped it would.
I tried again. This time I heard it, and so did he.
It was cracked and uneven, but the words rang clear in the room.
“I love you.”
The effect was immediate. Everything felt lighter.
And brighter. I wondered why I’d taken so long to tell him when I could see in him that I’d kept him waiting for it.
His eyes burned with emotion, and in them was something I’d never seen.
A diamond. One precious drop of tear that teased the edge of one eye.
He sat up with his back to the footboard and yanked me onto his lap. “Cazzo, I love you too,” he groaned before his lips smashed into mine.
“I love you,” I muttered again between kisses. This time, the words weren’t rough anymore. I tried it out again. “I love you.” I liked the sound of it. I couldn’t stop myself. It felt liberating every time I said them. “I love you.”
“Yes, you do, piccolo porcospino,” he groaned, pulling me closer to him and raining butterfly kisses my face and neck.
It had been a long journey. One that I still wasn’t done travelling.
Maybe I would never be done with it. Maybe I’d never reach the end destination.
Sometimes I took one step forward, and it felt like I’d conquered something.
Then I’d fall back ten, and I was worse than when I began.
I’d hurt him so much on the way. Lashed out at him, damaged his property, threw his suitcase out on the street, brought it back inside myself.
I’d tried everything to test his patience and see how far I could push him.
He’d still stayed until finally I realised he wasn’t leaving me.
Then one day I’d woken up, and finally, I’d figured out the reason he stayed.
It wasn’t only because he loved me. Because love could come and love could go.
But he’d made himself my forever. My foundation.
He was my strength when I needed it the most. My weakness when I wanted to burn the world.
He was always there until I couldn’t imagine a life without him.
I brought his lips back to mine. “I love you,” I whimpered into his mouth, and even though I had to take the next step to move forward, even though I didn’t have time, I pushed up and sank down onto him.
One inch at a time. His gaze was fire on me.
It was pinned to my eyes and didn’t relent.
I bounced up and down and gave him enough distractions, and still, he looked only at me.
Like he saw me. And truthfully, he did. No one could ever see me like he did.
He saw me as I truly was. The ugliness inside me, the torment I worked with every day, the mean girl energy, the urge to hurt others to protect myself.
But he also saw my love. He saw it way before I’d uttered the words.
But I still had to say them to mark the milestone for me.
And he saw my need for more. I would never be the nice one in the family.
But he saw me when the mean girl in me wanted a break. Or when she didn’t.
I fucked him slow, with our gazes fixed on each other.
There was no yesterday and no tomorrow. There was only now and the two of us while the world outside dissolved into nothing.
I trembled under his gaze when I came, my insides quivering just as my outsides.
He showed me just how much I meant to him.
When he came, he didn’t take his gaze away.
It was on mine, holding us both prisoner, as he showed me his moment of weakness when he spilled inside me.
We sagged into each other’s arms. Drained of energy.
I wanted to stay in them forever. But I didn’t have time to waste, and I made to get off him.
His hands gripped my ass, keeping me close to him. “Where are you off to?”
He nipped lazily at my shoulder, and I was back to wanting to stay within the arms of his comfort. “Lunch.”
“With?” Another nip.
“Ada.”
His movements stilled. His head cocked, eyes filled with curiosity, so many questions in them.
“I’m ready.”
“You want me to come with you?”
I opened my mouth, the words ‘I’d like nothing more’ at the tip of my tongue. But then I shook my head. Slowly. “No.” My confidence picked up. “I want to do this myself.”
“You sure?” His hand on my back was soothing, and it instilled the confidence I needed.
It wasn’t going to be easy. Taking the first step.
Especially when so much time had passed.
Especially when she’d tried so hard, and I’d hurt her every time.
Even if I’d called her a few months ago, I hadn’t been able to meet her in the flesh.
It took me so long to do something that someone else could do in an hour.
She had been patient, and now I knew it was time.
But I had to do it, and it had to be me.
Alone. “It’s been two years, and sometimes, I am right back to the day I threw Daria into a marriage she never asked for, but some days, I see hope, and it burns a little less inside me.
Today is one of those days and…” I took a deep breath.
It was part gasp and part relief. I felt like I could breathe again.
“I miss Ada. She both let me down and brought me up. But she’s the only Mamma I know, and I want her in my life.
I want to see if I could rebuild what we had into something. Anything.”
His face only showed understanding when it met mine. I gave him a soft kiss and pushed off him. I was at the door to the bathroom when he called out to me. I looked back to see so much love in his gaze. “I am fucking proud of you.”
My lips wobbled. “I know. And I am fucking proud of myself for getting here. Thank you for helping me.”
“I told you I’d be there for you, piccolo porcospino, no matter what.”
This time, his words resonated. Because he had proved it to me.
Again and again. Every single day to this day.
Love was a weird thing. Especially when it came face-to-face with a girl like me.
But he was a perfect match for my dark heart.
“I’m keeping you,” I told him, to his dark chuckle, as I turned on the shower.
“Because?” he called out.
“Because you’re mine,” I answered.
And so worth my heart.
Want to know how Orietta pushed her sister Daria into the New York Don’s arms? Read all about it in Princess of the Mafia.