49. Tony #2
That was good enough for Avery. She climbed into Mia's lap and started telling her about the card she'd made. The card was still in my pocket. I'd forgotten to give it to her because my hands were shaking and the world had gone soft at the edges.
Mia sat on the cottage porch with our daughter in her lap and the ring on her finger. The painting of two chairs and fireflies leaned against the railing beside her. She held up her hand. Turned it in the fading light.
"When did you know?" she asked.
"Know what?"
"That you wanted this. All of it."
I sat beside her. Pulled Avery onto my knee so I could put my arm around Mia. The porch step creaked. The meadow had come alive, tiny lights drifting through the tall grass like the night remembered where we started.
"The morning you made pancakes with Avery," I said. "You had batter in your hair. She was sitting on the counter. You were doing that thing where you pretend you're not singing, but you are, and she was laughing at you."
Mia leaned into me. "That was months ago."
"I know."
"You've known for months?"
"I've known for months."
She pressed her face into my shoulder. I felt her breathing slow. The shirt, my shirt, was warm where her skin touched mine.
"Tony," she said. Her voice was low. "Put our daughter to bed."
Avery was already half asleep when I carried her to the small bedroom. She mumbled something about flowers and weddings. Her voice trailed off the moment her head hit the pillow. I pulled the blanket up to her chin and tucked the rabbit under her arm.
I closed the door.
Mia stood in the cottage hallway. The reading glasses had vanished. My shirt slipped off one shoulder. The ring caught the hallway light.
She looked at me like I was the answer to a question she had stopped asking.
I crossed the hallway in two steps. My hands found her waist. Hers rose to my jaw and pulled me down.
The kiss started different from the one on the porch. This one belonged to just us. It began slow, then deepened fast.
Her back met the wall. My hands slipped under the shirt and found warm skin. She made a sound against my mouth that shot straight through me.
"Bedroom," she said.
I lifted her. Her legs wrapped around me. I adjusted my grip to protect her rib. She pulled me closer instead of pulling away.
The cottage bedroom stayed dark. Moonlight came through the window and outlined shapes and edges. I set her on the bed. She grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me down with her.
Her fingers worked the buttons one by one. She peeled the fabric from my shoulders and pressed her mouth to my collarbone. Her breath brushed my skin. The ring scraped lightly as her hands moved across my back.
I tugged the shirt over her head. My palms ran along her sides and stopped at the scar. I lowered my mouth to the thin raised line. She shivered under the touch.
"I'm okay," she said. Her fingers slid into my hair. "Tony. I'm okay."
I kissed the scar again anyway. Every press of my lips reminded the part of me still stuck on that chapel floor that she breathed warm and alive beneath me.
She tugged my face back up to hers. The kiss grew deeper. Her hands explored me. Mine explored her. The ring carried the heat of her skin.
I learned her body through touch and the noises she made when my mouth found the spots that undid her. Her breath shifted when my hands moved lower. I felt every reaction even if I could not see color.
She whispered my name. Not Tony. Not Rossi. Just my name, the way she said it when nothing stood between us except skin and air.
"Look at me," she said.
I found her eyes in the dark. She was the woman I had painted from memory. The one who had taught me to see her this way.
"I'm right here," she said.
I believed her. The ring on her finger, the scar under my mouth, and the sound of our daughter sleeping in the next room all felt real and earned.
She arched up into me. I moved with her. This night called for slowness so every second could stretch.
Her nails pressed into my shoulders. Our breathing turned rough. The bed frame creaked. We both froze and listened. Avery breathed steady through the wall.
Mia laughed without sound. Her body shook under mine.
"Shh," I said against her throat.
"You shh."
I buried my face in her neck. Her hands stayed in my hair. Our breaths tangled.
She pushed at my chest and rolled me onto my back.
Mia crawled down my body. Her mouth left a trail of heat across my chest and stomach. She stopped with her breath hot against my cock. It throbbed, hard and ready. She hovered there, lips parted, letting her exhale tease the swollen head while her fingers traced slow circles on my thigh.
"Tony," she whispered, voice rough with want. "I want your cock in my mouth so bad. But first I want to hear you beg for it."
The words sent fresh heat rushing through me. I brushed her cheek with my fingers and stroked her lower lip with my thumb. "Mia. Please. Suck me. I need that pretty mouth wrapped around me."
She smiled, slow and wicked. Then she leaned in. Her tongue flicked out and traced one long line from the base of my shaft to the tip, licking up the bead of precum that had leaked for her. She hummed at the taste. The vibration rolled through me.
She took just the head between her lips and sucked gently while her tongue circled it in lazy strokes. The wet heat felt perfect, but she kept it shallow on purpose. She pulled back to lick and kiss along the underside, teasing the thick vein until my hips jerked.
"More," I growled. My hand tightened in her hair. "Deeper, baby. Take all of me."
She hummed again, the sound low and satisfied, then slid her mouth lower.
Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked harder.
Her head moved in a slow rhythm that made my toes curl.
She worked the part she could not reach with her hand, twisting with each stroke, while her other palm cupped and rolled my balls.
The pressure built tight in my gut. Every drag of her mouth pushed me closer without letting me tip over. She pulled off with a soft pop. Saliva glistened on my cock and connected her swollen lips to the tip in thin strings.
"You taste so fucking good," she murmured. "I could do this all night. Feel you throb on my tongue while you fight not to come too soon."
She took me deeper again. Her throat relaxed around me as she swallowed. The tight, wet squeeze made everything blur. I groaned her name, desperate, my fingers flexing in her hair while the tension coiled hotter and tighter with every slow, perfect suck.
Mia pulled back and crawled up my body. She straddled my hips, careful to keep her weight balanced so she did not strain her healing rib.
Her hands braced on my chest as she lowered herself onto me, inch by slow inch.
The tight, wet heat of her pussy enveloped my cock completely. We both groaned at the same time.
She stayed still for a moment, letting her body adjust. Then she began to rock. Slow rolls of her hips that dragged my cock along every sensitive spot inside her. Her breath hitched with each movement. I gripped her waist to steady her, my thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," I said, voice rough. "So tight around me."
Mia leaned forward just enough to kiss me, her movements never stopping.
The angle let me slide even deeper. She rode me with steady control, her inner walls squeezing my cock on every downward stroke.
Sweat slicked our skin where we touched.
Her clit rubbed against me with each roll, and soft sounds escaped her throat.
After several minutes she shifted. She turned around and settled back down, still facing away from me in reverse.
This position kept pressure off her rib while letting me see the curve of her ass as she moved.
She braced her hands on my thighs and rocked again, faster now.
The new angle hit different spots and made her moan louder.
I reached around and found her clit with my fingers. I rubbed slow circles while she rode me. Her pace grew uneven. Her thighs trembled against mine.
"Tony," she gasped. "I'm so close."
I kept the pressure steady on her clit. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel you."
Her body tightened around my cock. She came hard, her pussy pulsing in waves that pulled me right over the edge with her. I thrust up once, twice, and spilled deep inside her with a low groan.
We stayed connected while our breathing slowed. She carefully turned back around and curled against my chest, my softening cock still inside her for a few more moments.
Everything we had survived filled the room with us.
I held her. She held me. We stayed that way a long time. Her heartbeat pressed against mine. Moonlight shifted across the bed. The ring dug into the back of my neck where her hand rested.
"Tony?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't let go."
I pulled her tighter. I pressed my mouth to her shoulder. "Never."
Mia slept beside me. Her hand rested on my chest. The ring pressed into my skin. Cool metal against warm fingers.
The cottage was quiet. Avery was in the next room. Curled up in the small bed Sophia had made with fresh sheets. The stuffed rabbit she wouldn't sleep without tucked against her chest.
I stared at the ceiling. Not because I couldn't sleep. Because I didn't want to miss this.
The cottage that used to be a crime scene. The porch where a dead man had left flowers. The bedroom where Mia had locked the door every night and thought she was safe while a stranger breathed in the dark.
All of it, rebuilt. Filled with something that had nothing to do with fear.
Mia stirred. Her fingers spread against my ribs. She looked at her hand. Turned it. The stone glinted in the dark.
"Still there," she said.
"Still there."
"I'm going to look at it every five minutes for the next year."
"I checked the box four times today. We're well matched."
She laughed. Soft. Her rib was better. Not perfect, but better.
She didn't wince anymore. She just breathed in a little sharper than she used to. I noticed. She knew I noticed. Neither of us said anything.
From the next room: "Daddy?"
I lifted my head. "Yeah, Pickle?"
"Can the wedding be very, very soon?"
Mia pressed her face into my shoulder. Her whole body shook with the kind of laughing that doesn't make sound.
"Go to sleep, Avery."
"Okay." A pause. "Daddy?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you and Mommy."
Mia went still beside me. Her hand pressed flat against my skin. The ring dug in harder.
"We love you too," I said. "So much."
Silence. Then the soft, rhythmic breathing of a five-year-old who had fallen asleep between one sentence and the next.
Mia tilted her head up. I couldn't see her eyes in the dark. I could feel them.
"Avery approved," she said. "Ring on finger."
I pulled her closer. She settled against me. The cottage creaked around us, the old bones of a house finding its weight.
The only thing left was the vow.