Chapter 45
Nearly every morning since saying I do to Emilio, I’ve woken up alone.
I’ve been okay with that.
My husband is a busy man—killing people, committing crimes, and all that. Apparently, it starts early in the day and ends late in the night.
Emilio just ruined that.
He’s officially created a woman who wants to wake up with her husband every damn morning.
Especially if the mornings start like this.
Sunlight shines through the cracks in the curtains, giving me just enough light to see Emilio’s head buried between my legs as he has me spread wide open for him.
Ragged moans slip through my lips as I open my eyes.
His mouth is hot as he flicks his tongue against my wet folds.
“Mmm,” I murmur, lowering my hand beneath the sheets to fist his hair. “Good morning to you too.”
I swear, I hear him lowly chuckle before he pushes his face deeper, tongue fucking me hard.
My body comes alive, and I buck my hips against his face. His strong hand grips my waist, holding me where he wants me, as he thrusts his fingers inside me.
“God,” I moan, biting into my lip. “Fuuuck. Right there.”
Emilio excels at everything.
Killing, kissing, making me come apart with his mouth and cock.
I prop myself on my elbows to stare down at him while rotating my hips.
I take in his strong shoulders flexing as he holds me down and devours me.
The way his head moves in sync with my thighs as he laps me up.
The energy in my body builds, like a buzz that keeps getting stronger.
I drive my hips forward so hard that I’m surprised I don’t break the man’s jaw and collapse onto my back. He isn’t fazed at my desperate need for him.
It only entices him to eat me out harder.
I’m whimpering.
Moaning.
Yelling his name.
Begging for more.
He draws my orgasm out, like a game.
As soon as I think I’m about to fall apart, he pulls back, giving me a break.
“Jesus, it’s too early for games,” I say, attempting to catch my breath.
He pauses, lifting his chin and resting it along my lower belly. “Let me play with you, baby. Let me start my morning off right.”
Without waiting for my response, he lowers his head, tilts my hips up further, and gives me one swift lick from my ass crack to my pussy in one sinful motion.
This time, he doesn’t hold back.
He devours me.
Fast. Hard. Filthy.
I buck against him, fisting the sheets, my knees shaking and toes curling.
“Yes, baby,” he groans against my heat. “Soak your husband’s face. Give me the best fucking breakfast ever.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice.
Ecstasy rolls through me.
My body trembles, waves of pleasure shattering through me.
I’m shaking and breathless.
He patiently waits until I’m still before kissing one thigh, then the other.
It’s almost like he’s giving me a worship, a thank-you, for allowing him this gift this morning.
When he lifts his head, our eyes lock.
His gaze is wild and burning with heat.
He shifts, starting to move off my body, but I clamp my thighs tight to hold him in place.
“Nuh-uh, mister,” I whisper, trying to lift my hand to waggle my finger, but I don’t have the muscle strength to actually do it.
A smile pulls at his lips. He kisses my clit gently before sliding up and kneeling between my legs. “This morning was about you.” His voice is raspy and thick with restraint.
My gaze drops to his cock. It’s thick, hard, and slick at the tip with need.
My mouth waters, and I lick my lips. “If it’s about me, then I want my husband inside me.”
“So greedy, my wife.” He brushes his thumb over my clit. “Always wanting her husband’s cock, doesn’t she?”
Electricity bolts up my spine.
I gasp when he shoves three fingers inside me.
He moves them fast and so deep.
“Please,” I cry out.
I drop my eyes from his handsome, tired face to his tight jaw to his bare chest that’s already gleaming with sweat. The muscles tighten under his skin as he moves.
I whimper when he pulls his fingers from my soaked pussy.
He hooks my legs over his shoulders, situates us, and then, with no warning, he slams into me.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, throwing his head back. “So tight. So wet. So fucking perfect.”
With each slam of his cock inside me, my body slips farther up the bed.
The sheets cling to my sweaty skin.
“Play with your tits, baby,” he orders. “Rub those beautiful nipples.”
I do as he said, smoothing my hands over them before tugging on a nipple.
“Fuck yes,” he moans before leaning down to capture one in his mouth.
He sucks hard, like a starved man who didn’t just eat my pussy like a full meal.
Sparks fly through me as my husband fucks me wild.
Deep.
Like we were meant for each other in every way.
Emilio is the only man I’ve ever slept with.
But I can’t imagine anyone else ever making me feel like this.
Only Emilio.
My husband.
The man I was terrified to love.
That I thought would destroy me.
And now, I don’t know if I ever want to live without him.
Stupidly, I verbalize those words when they were supposed to stay in my head.
“God, I love you so fucking much,” I moan, breathless, digging my nails into his arm.
He freezes.
Oh shit.
Immediately, I start trying to correct myself. “I, uh—” My heart thrashes against my chest.
“Did you mean that, or was it only because I’m making your pussy feel good?”
“Uh …” I turn my head to look at the wall.
He grabs my jaw, turns my face back to him, and forces my eyes to meet his.
He stares at me in desperation for the answer.
Like he’s tormented, but he also needs to know.
“Both,” I finally admit, my stomach twisting.
He doesn’t reply.
Just drops my legs, crashes his mouth into mine, and pulls me tighter.
He fucks me slow, then hard, then deep.
Our bodies rub together, this position feeling so intimate.
And when he comes, buried deep inside me, he whispers, “I hope I just put a baby in the woman I’m falling in love with,” in my ear.
I grin, feeling on top of the world.
This is what it feels like to be happily married.
“So, you know how Maggie and I have been talking about paint colors?” I ask Emilio as he fastens the last button on his black shirt.
After our bedroom sex came shower sex.
I’m curled up on the closet ottoman in my robe while he’s getting ready for the day.
He nods, slipping a black blazer from its hanger.
“What do you think about repainting the bedroom?” I play with the belt of my robe.
The bedroom holds a lot of memories for him.
It was his growing up here.
His mother designed it and chose the paint colors.
But it’s also outdated, and it needs revamping.
If I’m going to make this house a home—my home—I want to do it the right way.
There isn’t one second of hesitation before he says, “Whatever you want.”
All right, now onto the next subject that’s a big one.
I draw in a breath, now tugging on the belt. “I was …”
He looks over at me, waiting.
“I was thinking of asking Maggie if she’d want to move back into her wing,” I croak as if my throat is suddenly sore.
He crosses the room and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “That’s Maggie’s call. She’s always welcome here.”
I smile, my heart warming.
He kneels in front of me, adjusting my robe collar before running his rough hand over my cheek. “Does that mean you’re ready to make this your forever home, guaio?”
I smile as his thumb runs over my lips. “I’m ready for this to be my forever.” I slide my hand down his arm to clasp his hand. “With you.”
The second I see Maggie over FaceTime, I squeal, “Maggie! God, I’ve missed you!”
I wish I could reach through the screen and hug her.
She waves to me, smiling bright, and I hear voices in the background.
“You make it to Chicago okay?” I ask, walking into the kitchen for a Dr Pepper.
“Sure did.”
She turns the camera, and my heart squeezes when I see baby Evalina, cuddled in Aurora’s arms.
“Hi, Liliya,” Aurora says, giving me a tired wave.
Her hair is messy, strands going in every direction, as she rocks Evalina.
“My niece is still the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, blowing a kiss through the screen.
Evalina coos, as if she heard me.
I smile wide.
I haven’t known Maggie or Aurora for long, but I already feel like they’re family.
I want to keep them in my life forever.
The camera shifts, and I see Angelica beside Aurora.
She narrows her eyes at me through the screen.
“Hi, Liliya,” she says, crossing her arms. Her hair is slicked back in another bun, like she’s ready for a business meeting.
I give her the friendliest smile I’ve ever made. “Hi, Angelica!”
“She’ll warm up to you,” Aurora says. “By the tenth time she sees you, she’ll start treating you like family and ask you what your favorite meals are so you can have them when you visit.”
I perk up and laugh, a rush of excitement hitting me at the mention of visiting again.
I planned to ask Maggie about moving in during this call, but I decided against it.
The timing isn’t right, and I don’t want to put her on the spot.
But once we talk alone, it’s the first thing I’m asking her.
And maybe, now that the Lombardis know Aurora is alive, she can visit here too.
My heart hurts as Dasha comes to mind.
I swallow hard, hoping I haven’t lost my sister forever.
We were supposed to stay close for the rest of our lives.
Have babies at the same time.
Raise them like siblings.
Celebrate all our holidays together.
Now, I don’t even know when I’ll talk to her again.
I stay on the phone with them for thirty minutes, talking and laughing, and when we finally hang up, I wander into the library.
I pull out paint samples and hold them against the wall.
I plan to remove every memory of Emilio’s father here.
After narrowing it down to four shades, I curl onto the sofa and grab my book I brought down. I make myself comfortable and read, waiting for my husband to come home.
Not knowing when he does, it’ll be complete chaos.