Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER.
NICO
It was a beautiful day with a clear blue sky, the sun vying for attention and the ocean spread out in all its glory.
There could be a thunderstorm, and I’d still think the view was spectacular.
Because below me, sixty-five feet from me, lying directly in my sight was a woman wearing a fuchsia bikini with pom-poms. My woman.
Every time the breeze danced, the pom-poms did a jiggle that tugged at my cock.
Not for the first time, I regretted the health hazard of the custom-made creation.
Rightfully, she no longer fit in her previous one.
At least not enough to walk around in public.
But she could still handle it in private.
Just the thought of the show she’d given me the night before made me trace my lips with my tongue where her taste still lingered like a little piece of heaven.
Scrapbook images flashed in my memory. A warm night.
Dim lights. A catwalk. At the end, my woman sprayed out on our dining table.
Silly little pom-poms at the edge of my teeth.
The taste of her desire coating the thickness of my tongue.
Liquid heat dropped to my groin and, as if she could feel it, she rolled onto her front, lifted her head and glanced my way.
The sun was too bright. She couldn’t see me behind the glass.
I’d know this because over the years, I had mastered the art of observing her unnoticed.
She called it an obsession. I called it looking out for what was mine.
My hand reached for my chest and caressed it.
I’d made her tattoo her initials on my chest, in the center of her star.
There could be no doubt anymore. I was the property of Anna Vales.
My pants vibrated. I picked up the phone without shifting my focus.
“I need you to check on Stefano,” Enzo growled down the line.
She gave up on finding me, rolled back onto her back, and picked up the sheets of music next to her.
I imagined her fingers tapping, learning the rhythm.
She had started to play again. Losing her final parent drew her oddly closer to music once more.
She buried her emotions in it. Lived through it.
Every day was a struggle. One she survived most days.
I ensured she did. Distracting her. Reminding her of her parents and their love for her and her sister.
“Nico? Are you even listening?”
“He’s a big boy.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about.”
“Well, then why don’t you warn Vitale?”
“What the fuck have you been drinking?”
“My wife’s pussy.”
“Jesus, Nico, get your head out of your wife’s pussy and focus.”
“That’s rich. Aren't you the same kinda dirty?”
He groaned. “Besides the point.”
It was exactly the point. I frowned. A fucking tourist appeared in the distance, walking on our beach. Why the fuck was it always a man who couldn’t read the ‘no trespassing’ signs?
“What the fuck do you want me to do?”
“Bring Stefano with you when you fly back.”
“Can’t. He spoils my fun.” I liked fucking Anna on the plane.
Head down. Ass up. Daria had told her about Enzo’s past with the stewardesses.
The next time we’d flown in the jet, she’d asked if I’d ever fucked a stewardess.
I hadn’t. Thank fuck. Then she’d disappeared into the bedroom and appeared down the aisle with a drink in her hand and wearing the tightest, shortest stewardess outfit I’d ever seen.
I’d choked down the drink and fucked her obscenely hard until I’d proved her point.
Yes. I apparently had a thing for stewardesses.
“Jesus, Nico, I’m your fucking Don. This is an order. Drag your brother back here.”
A thread of irritation ran in my body. Why the fuck is he approaching my wife?
“You were my brother first, and he’s your brother too.”
“He’ll soon be my dead brother if he sniffs up my sister-in-law’s ass one more time.”
“Don’t think that’s going to stop him.”
“He’s going to start a fucking war. Vitale hates me. He’s not going to give his sister to a Martello.”
“He did that already and…” I trailed off. He is talking to my wife.
Worse. She was talking back to him.
I was already moving. Stalking outside her father’s office. Mine when we made it to Marbella.
“He wanted a collaboration. Besides, he’s changed now. Lia doesn’t want to be married to a made man, and Vitale will respect her choice this time around.”
“Sounds like Stefano’s got a problem on his hands. The fucker deserves it for the shit he gave me.”
Enzo said something. I didn’t register it.
They were still thirty-two feet away, but the wind carried his words. The prick standing in front of my wife in swimming briefs exploding with dancing dolphins was spouting words that were going to get a gun to his head. Sangria and you mixed in it.
My wife held up her wedding finger. “Sorry.”
Sorry? What the fuck was she sorry about?
I came to a quiet stop behind them. Twenty feet away. Needed the distance not to scatter crimson on the golden beach.
Her shoulders tensed as if she could feel the heat of my glare.
The prick was too intent on stealing her from me that it took him some time to notice the audience.
His smile froze when he looked up. Then he dug his grave deeper.
“Hey man, I was just asking her to join for a drink. You can join, too…ugh…” He backed away from me.
I was as calm as a cucumber. I didn’t know why he was ready to pee his pants. “If you like…”
His plus-one invite wasn’t convincing. “I’d love a drink. No harm in that.” To me, at least. He could barely hold my gaze but fell for my calm tone, shoulders sagging in relief.
My wife unfortunately didn’t. It annoyed me that she saw right through me. That was the only con. And that she was too fucking pretty. Why did she have to attract men like bees to honey? Jumping to her feet, she rushed over to me. “We have plans, mi corazón.”
Every time she called me her heart, I wanted to spread her thighs and eat her pussy like a starving man.
Since she’d kill me if I did it now and I wanted to live longer if she was with me, I pulled her to my side instead and tucked her under my arm.
“We can change our plans.” I bent my head and brushed her ear with the sting of my words.
“Your husband’s in the mood to Sangria the fuck out of him. ”
She pushed away from me and snapped, “Dios mio, Nico, si mates a otro hombre por mil culpa, me voy.”
If you so much as kill another man because of me, I’m gone.
She glared at me. I battled with wanting to take the prick around the corner and wanting to fuck the fury out of my wife.
“Get inside.”
“No. I refuse to let you kill another man.” Her hand flew to her mouth when she realized she’d let those words slip in English. She flipped to address her admirer, and her shoulders sagged in relief when she caught sight of his disappearing back. “?Dios mío!” She went off on a rant.
I wanted to suck those furious Spanish words spilling from her thick lips.
Deep chocolate curls danced around her head wildly, and her face was a picture of agitation as she brushed them away furiously.
My hands itched to tangle those coils in my fist. Rip those pom-poms apart and bury my cock in her pussy.
“Well…” She stood with her legs spread apart. Hands on her hips. “What do you have to say?”
I took in her sun-kissed skin. The little fuchsia temptation covering calling out to me. “I’ll give you a head start.”
Her breathing staggered. Irises darkening as she took in the shift in my mood. Her teeth sank into her plump little lip as she took a step back. Then she was off.
I gave her the head start I had promised. Rattled off a bunch of Fibonacci sequences as I took out my phone and sent an email. I’d need another ten fucking pairs of that bikini. This one was going to be in more than two pieces in the next few minutes.
When I walked inside, I was slow. She was faster.
I still caught her around the corner between the kitchen and the living room.
Pinning her squealing, slippery body to the wall, I slammed my mouth onto hers.
She bit my lip and made me taste copper.
Pushing away, I growled in anger, “I’m not letting you out until I put a fucking concrete wall around you. ”
Hiking up her legs, she wrapped them around my hips and drew me closer as she pleaded with me for the sake of another man. “Por favor, don’t do anything to him.”
“I'll think about it,” I lied, tracing the pom-poms covering her breasts. Such tiny things. How could they be the bane of my existence?
“Promise me?”
“Can’t promise shit I don’t mean.” I pulled the two cups down and stared at her breasts. I’d start a war for these.
Leaning forward, I sucked one, but she cupped my face and pulled my head right up. “You’re not helping his case by withholding my pleasure,” I muttered in irritation.
She tipped her head and whispered sweet words. “Por favor, mi corazón.”
I groaned. God help me. She ruled me without lifting a pinky. One word and I was pussy-whipped into agreeing to her ridiculous demands. “Fine,” I muttered. Her lips turned into a smile. I wiped it off by sticking my tongue in her. She moaned. I liked that better.
She tasted of salt, sea, and sand. Of the strawberry margarita she’d had. But also of a good time and a dream that had finally become my reality. I traced her mouth. Played with it until I was ready to burst in my pants, then dragged my mouth down and bit a path to her breasts.
“Gracias,” she moaned.
I wasn’t sure if she was thanking me for the attention or for letting the fucker live. My thoughts jumbled. I couldn’t think with this woman in my hands. The doubt annoyed me too. “Too bad you lucked out.”
“I didn’t luck out.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “Got myself a dream husband, too.”
“Yeah?” I liked that a little too much.
She nodded.
I groped her breasts. “I’m jealous as fuck.”
“You do you.”
“Control freak.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have noticed.”
I nipped at her sneaky grin. “Don’t do feelings.”
“You do it for me, though. So love.”
“I love you.” I didn’t know why my voice went all rough. I still couldn’t believe she was finally mine.
Her hands curled around my neck. “I love you more.”
I scoffed. “I’ll win that game anytime.”
“No, you won’t—”
I silenced her with my finger on her lips. “This is one game you’ll never win, stella mia. I’ll always, always love you more.”
I didn’t listen to her response. There was nothing she could do to convince me, anyway. Ducking down, I sucked her breast into my mouth.
She dragged me closer, digging her nails into my ass, grinding her pussy on my cock. I released her breast and stared at her. She groaned. “Why’d you stop?”
“I want every man to know you’re mine. I want a baby in you,” I muttered, my control slipping away, my weakness showing like red numbers on a fucking ledger.
“Nico,” she sighed. “We discussed this. I’m not walking down that aisle with a belly.”
She’d wanted a wedding. One with people in it. My only condition had been that she wear a fuchsia dress. She didn’t know it yet, but I’d changed my mind. I was going to have another condition.
“Besides, a baby’s not changing anything.” She gripped my face. “I’m always yours, corazón.”
“Sì?” My voice cracked.
“Siempre.”
Always sounded perfect. She twisted me inside out.
Made me needy. Fucking desperate. Her hand slid down my chest. Popping buttons so recklessly that some popped right off my shirt.
She pushed it off, and it fell open on my arms, baring my chest. I couldn’t be bothered to let go of her to get rid of it completely.
My hand slipped between her legs. She was so fucking drenched I’d probably be able to hammer right through the fabric.
When she fumbled for my belt and her soft fingers touched my throbbing cock, I almost blew my fuse in her hands. With a groan, I pushed her hand away. Taking my dick in my hand, I traced it against her arousal. A groan of desperation worked out of my chest.
“Por favor.”
Her moan zapped to my cock like fucking electricity. “Please what?” I demanded.
“Por favor, mi corazón, fuck me.”
“Say you’re fucking mine. For always.”
Her nails dug into the nape of my neck as she bucked, trying to bring my cock inside her. “Yours. Por siempre.”
When I curled my fingers around the waistband of her bottom, the fabric ripped apart.
Pom-poms scattered on the floor, taking the fuchsia fabric along with them.
They made a mockery of my lack of control.
She was in my arms, but I still couldn’t stop touching her.
I was all over her. Yanking her ass to me, sliding my hands over the curves of her hips and groping for her breasts.
Then I buried myself in her to the hilt.
The pleasure was sharp and intense. Our groans melted into it.
The sounds were thick in the silent house.
She blew on a curl falling from her forehead.
I brushed it softly out of the way. It fell back adamantly.
With a rough smile, I tucked it behind her ear.
Then, pinning her to the wall, I fucked her hard, hips thrusting, arms straining, fucking wanting to live inside her because nothing was close enough to her.
She matched my desperation as she kissed and licked her way from my chest to my mouth.
Her nails scraped against my skin. I loved that I’d carry those marks for days.
If I could, I’d roll her around my neck and wear her like a fucking scarf for the world to see.
She was mine, and I was so fucking hers.
Her skin flushed red, spreading like fire, heating under my hands. Her legs locked behind my back tightened into metal rings, and then with the sweetest of groans, she came apart in my arms.
I couldn’t stop moving. Grinding and groaning, I pushed into her.
Over and over again. My final savage thrust made me lose myself entirely.
My body shook with the release. I muttered all kinds of shit.
Thankfully, it was all in Italian, and she was too deep in her pleasure to notice.
Because I’d take her always. But I’d take some guarantees too.
The pill was ninety-nine percent effective.
I’d work with that one percent and fuck with the statistics while fucking her.
She was mine forever, but she’d be mine for eternity if we had a common interest. Like a little boy or girl with those crazy locks and sneaky grin to bring me to my knees.
She was the star that guided my path.
The fucking oxygen in my lungs.
The cause, the reason, and the ending of my life.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Forever fucking mine.