Epilogue
Giancarlo - Two Months Later
“Well… Here we are. Welcome to paradise…”
The sarcasm was dripping from Rowen’s voice, but I still grinned like a fool as I gazed around the space, finally getting my coveted glimpse at the “shitty little Chinatown apartment” of the man I loved.
Even if I haven’t told him I love him yet.
Even if most of what there is to see here is now in boxes.
So much had happened since our meeting with Bob Decatur and his attorney army in Florence—including my defamation lawsuit and the ongoing trial of Divani and Monmouth—I’d barely had time to take a breath.
Yet, by some miracle, I had managed to convince Rowen to move in with me and leave this apartment behind.
Even more miraculous, he finally invited me over—even if only for his last night on the premises.
“Kitchen. Living room.” Rowen dismissively waved a hand around the shoebox-sized space we’d walked into. “Down the hall is the bathroom and bedroom. That’s it really—”
“The bedroom where Poppy #5 is hanging over your pillow?” I interrupted, setting down the not “Original Ray’s” pizza box on the crowded kitchen table.
He cocked his head, observing me silently for a moment before shoving the two “brown-bagged” 40-ounce beers onto the table next to the pizza.
“How rude of me to not complete the grand tour,” he purred, grabbing my tie and leading me down the hallway. “Especially with how long it’s been since you’ve seen your silly flower painting.”
Rowen was teasing me, of course. First, I’d finally gotten him to admit he liked the painting and, second, I’d “seen” Poppy #5 almost every night that we slept apart the past couple months—since he greatly enjoyed sending me photographic evidence of his stolen prize.
And occasional video evidence as well.
As soon as we walked into his bedroom, my breath caught, not only because I was seeing my precious painting in person again, but because I was seeing it as he’d been experiencing it all this time.
Which gives me an idea…
“What would you say to a live reenactment of you with my silly flower painting?” I gestured at his unmade twin bed—the only thing in the room aside from Poppy #5 and a couple items on the bedside table still unpacked for tomorrow’s moving day.
“Ohhhh, there’s my little stealth slut…” Rowen chuckled, releasing my tie and unbuckling his belt as he backed toward the bed. “Why don’t you move the cuck chair to the foot of the bed? That’s where I usually set up my phone for you.”
With pleasure.
I grabbed the wooden chair currently next to the cracked window and placed it where I was instructed to.
Then I removed my tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons on my shirt before taking a seat, keeping my gaze locked on the only other person in the room, in the universe, as he fully undressed and climbed onto the bed.
My breath caught for a second time to see my two favorite things on earth in such close proximity to each other—both my masterpieces—but I was quickly distracted from the significance by the sight of Rowen spreading lube over his half-hard dick.
Incredibly familiar lube…
“Good thing I’m moving in tomorrow,” he sighed contentedly, signature smirk firmly in place. “I’m almost out of this 14-karat shit.”
My mouth twisted in a smirk of my own. “It is a good thing. Perhaps I should buy stock in gold lube, with how much we both use it.”
And how much we’ll continue to use it once I finally get you home where you belong.
Rowen huffed a laugh, stroking himself to hardness. “I bet you used a lot, huh, jerking off to those videos I sent you?”
Oh, you want to play?
“Yes,” I replied, trailing a hand down my stomach and gripping myself through my pants, noting how he tracked the movement. “Although, usually all it took was thinking about the first time I saw you—on the terrace of The Skyline, with your hair lit up by the setting sun… looking like an angel.”
An angel of chaos.
“Jesus, Giano,” he hissed, gripping the base of his dick and glaring at me deliciously. “You really need to work on your dirty talk. Cool it with the sentimental crap.”
No.
Never mind that I sensed he regularly got off to my sentiments, I leaned forward and licked my lips. “I wasn’t finished. What I meant to add was… looking like an angel after calling Agent Markel a creep, but before you insulted me then stole my money on your way out the door.”
Along with my heart.
Rowen resumed stroking, a smug grin stretching across his face, that gap in his teeth making me harder than anything. “Much better. To my credit, I did leave you my card.”
“You did.” I leaned back in the chair again and spread my legs, desperate to give my aching dick some breathing room. “And I couldn’t get you out of my head after that. All I could think about was you, naked and laid out on the bed beneath me. Or perhaps I was thinking about me beneath you…”
Rowen stopped to grip himself again. “Careful, Moneybags,” he gritted out. “You better decide where and how you want me to come, and make it quick.”
I swallowed thickly. With how hectic everything had been and how we’d been trying to keep our relationship under wraps until we were ready to go public, there never seemed to be the right moment to ask for a change of pace in the bedroom.
A change of… roles.
All I need to do is ask.
“Please, Ro, I…” I cleared my throat. “I want you to top me. I’m prepped and ready for you…”
Please.
He dropped his dick entirely and sat back on his heels with a stunned expression. Then his gaze began darting around the room, as if looking for an escape, and my heart sank.
Oh no…
As adventurous as Rowen was in the bedroom, he never truly pushed me to do anything. He may have sent me a care package for bottoming, but also never brought it up as an expectation, which I’d always assumed was his way of letting me ask for it when I was ready.
Does he not want to switch?
“Giano, I can’t…” his gaze met mine again, the panic in his expression something I blessedly hadn’t seen in a while. “I don’t want your first time to be in a shithole like this!”
Oh, you ridiculous man.
“I do,” I growled, unbuttoning the rest of my shirt so roughly, I may have lost a few buttons before shrugging it off. “What better way to leave this apartment behind? To leave behind the circumstances you were trapped in, which you never have to worry about ever again?”
Because, of course, my “attorney army” had no problem getting Rowen released from his obligations to the FBI, based on how he was “wrongfully implicated” for the theft of my artwork.
That Agent Markel was forced to go on public record, saying he’d been mistaken with his accusations—that he was deeply sorry for the distress he’d caused—was the icing on the cake.
Rowen swore under his breath, his pupils dilating just like they had when we’d watched the live newsfeed of Markel groveling to save his job.
“Yeah, I think fucking you into the mattress might be the best way to leave this entire chapter of my life behind.” His green eyes roamed over my bare chest, darkening with hunger.
“Get on the bed, Giano. Face down, ass up. Now.”
“Yes, Mr. Quincy,” I breathed, standing and hurriedly removing the rest of my clothes before crawling onto the bed. “You’re the one in charge.”
Always.
“Goddamn right, I’m the one in charge,” he growled, pushing my upper half down onto the mattress before grabbing my cheeks and spreading them wide. “Fuuuck, look at that… Have you been wearing my gift all day for me, baby?”
The “gift” he was referring to was the bright teal plug he’d bought for me, and even though I’d hoped for this exact scenario to happen tonight, my face burned with welcome humiliation.
“Yes…” I mumbled into his worn comforter, breathing in my favorite citrus scent in greedy gulps. “I was wearing it while we shopped for art for our home… and while we were ordering pizza at not Original Ray’s—”
That earned me a slap on my ass, and it was all I could do not to immediately come.
I need him inside me first.
“Brat,” he huffed, pulling out the plug as slowly as humanly possible. “After I’m done fucking you like you deserve, I dare you to tell me that pizza isn’t the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.”
It won’t be.
I knew better than to say that out loud—mostly because a full spanking would definitely finish me off—so instead I lifted myself up onto my elbows to peer at him over my shoulder.
“Please, Mr. Quincy… Please, fuck me like I deserve…”
His expression grew panicked once again, but now I realized what I was seeing was simply him not hiding his emotions from me anymore.
Give me more.
“I swear to gawd, Giano,” he muttered as he removed the plug and replaced it with lubed fingers. “You need to promise to use your safeword if you need to—”
“I promise,” I replied, even though I wasn’t worried about him hurting me in the least. “I trust you, Ro.”
He froze with his crown pressed against my hole, but I simply held his gaze until he carefully squeezed his way inside, making us both groan as he bottomed out.
“Jesus fucking Chriiiist,” he gasped, pushing my head down but keeping his grip on my hair. “Why the hell do you feel so good?”
I know why.
“Because…” I choked on air as he delivered a sharp thrust, loving how full I felt—how perfectly he fit inside me. “Because this hole is yours.”
I still don’t play fair.
“It is my hole, isn’t it?” he murmured, picking up his pace until skin was slapping against skin, activating my prostate with every pass. “My expensive little hole that no one else has ever had and never will.”
No one else.
“Please, Mr. Quincy,” I pleaded, knowing he was taking it easy on me—determined to make him lose control along with me. “Make me yours…”
“Fuck, I love it when you beg.” He yanked me up so I was seated on his thighs, continuing to thrust into me from below with his hand gripping my hair to the point of glorious pain. “You’re dying to come on my cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” I gasped as he spit into his other hand and wrapped it around my dick. “And I need your cum inside me, please…”