Extended Epilogues

Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book?

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

Which was the part you liked most in the book?

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Is there one (or more) character(s) in this book that you would like to read more about in a sequel?

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What do you think of the bonus content of this book? *

• I read all the bonus content because I wanted more of the story.
• I read the prologue, but not the Dimitri's POV scene.
• I read the Dimitri's POV, but not the prologue scene.
• I skipped the bonus content initially, but plan to go back and read it after finishing the main story.
• I skipped the bonus content because the interruptions were annoying and/or off putting.

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Dimitri

Sara grins and takes my hand, leading me towards the elevators. I follow eagerly, anticipation building as we step into the elevator and she presses the button for the top floor.

As soon as the doors slide closed, I pull Sara into my arms, claiming her lips in a passionate kiss. She responds fervently, her fingers tangling in my hair. By the time we reach our suite, we’re both a bit breathless.

I slide the key card and usher Sara inside the luxurious room. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide a breathtaking view of the city skyline glittering below us. Sara wanders over and gazes out appreciatively.

“It’s beautiful up here,” she says.

I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Not as beautiful as you,” I murmur against her neck.

Sara laughs softly, twisting in my embrace to face me, her arms encircling my neck. The look in her smoldering eyes makes my pulse race with desire.

“I think you’re still wearing too many clothes, Mr. Amato,” she says teasingly.

“Well then, allow me to remedy that situation, Mrs. Amato.”

I take a moment to drink in the sight of Sara before me, her eyes dark with desire and her lips parted in anticipation. She’s so beautiful it takes my breath away. I slowly trace my fingers along the curve of her jaw, feeling her shiver beneath my touch.

With a gentle tug, I pull the zipper of her dress down, revealing the smooth expanse of her back. The fabric pools at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but her lacy underwear. I can’t help but let out a low growl of appreciation at the sight of her.

Sara bites her lip, her eyes never leaving mine as I reach around to unclasp her bra. It falls away, leaving her breasts bare and exposed to my hungry gaze. I cup them in my hands, feeling their weight and softness. Sara gasps as I brush my thumbs over her nipples, already hard and sensitive.

I lean down to capture one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking and teasing it until she’s moaning and writhing against me. My other hand roams down her body, tracing the curve of her waist and hips before slipping into her panties.

Sara gasps as I touch her, my fingers finding her already wet and ready for me. I stroke her gently, feeling her body tremble and arch towards me. She’s so responsive, so eager for my touch, it’s intoxicating.

I scoop Sara up into my arms, carrying her over to the bed. I lay her down gently, my eyes never leaving hers as I strip off my own clothes. She watches me with a heated gaze, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

I climb onto the bed, settling myself between her legs. I kiss her deeply, my tongue tangling with hers as I continue to touch her. She moans into my mouth, her hips bucking against my hand.

I slide one finger inside her, feeling her tightness and heat. Sara gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders as I begin to move my finger in and out. I add a second finger, stretching her and preparing her for what’s to come.

Sara’s moans grow louder, her body writhing beneath me as I continue my ministrations. I can feel her getting closer and closer to the edge, her muscles tensing and her breath coming in short gasps.

I pull back slightly, breaking the kiss and looking down at her. Her eyes are closed, her face flushed with pleasure.

I can feel Sara’s breath hitch as I continue to move my fingers inside her, her body writhing beneath me. She’s so close, I can feel it. But I want to make this last. I want to savor every moment of this.

Suddenly, Sara’s eyes fly open and she looks up at me with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I want to be on top,” she says, her voice low and husky.

I raise an eyebrow in surprise, but I’m more than happy to oblige. I pull my fingers out of her and roll onto my back, watching as Sara straddles me. She’s so beautiful, sitting there on top of me with her hair cascading down her back and her eyes filled with desire.

Sara reaches down and begins to unbutton my shirt, her fingers deftly working the buttons through the holes. I lift my head slightly so she can pull the shirt off over my head, revealing my bare chest.

Sara’s eyes roam over my body, taking in every inch of me. She leans down and presses her lips to my chest, kissing me slowly and deliberately. I can feel her warm breath against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

I reach up and run my fingers through her hair, pulling her closer to me. I can feel her nipples harden against my chest as she continues to kiss me, her tongue darting out to taste my skin.

Sara’s hands begin to wander down my body, tracing the lines of my abs and chest. She reaches the waistband of my pants and begins to undo the button, her fingers deftly working the zipper down.

I lift my hips slightly so she can pull my pants off, leaving me in nothing but my boxers. Sara’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight of my erection straining against the fabric.

She leans down and presses her lips to the bulge, kissing me through the fabric. I can feel the heat of her breath against my skin, making me even harder.

Sara hooks her fingers into the waistband of my boxers and pulls them down, freeing my cock. She looks up at me with a wicked grin before taking me into her mouth.

I let out a low groan as I feel her warm, wet mouth envelop me. She begins to move her head up and down, her tongue swirling around the tip of my cock.

She’s teasing me, taking her time as she explores every inch of me with her mouth. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, but just as I’m about to cum, she pulls away.

“Sara,” I growl, my voice low and husky. “Don’t stop.”

She looks up at me with a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Who said I was going to stop?”

She leans down and begins to kiss me again, her lips moving up and down my shaft. I can feel myself getting harder and harder, my body aching for release. But just as I’m about to cum again, she pulls away once more.

“Sara,” I say, my voice strained.

She laughs softly, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest.

I can feel myself getting frustrated, my body on edge. I want to cum so badly, but Sara is teasing me mercilessly. I reach down and grab her hair, pulling her towards me.

“Dimitri,” she gasps, her eyes wide with surprise.

“I can’t take it anymore,” I say, my voice rough. “I need you.”

She smiles and leans down, her lips brushing against mine. “I need you too,” she whispers.

I can’t believe how good this feels. We haven’t done it in over a month, since before the baby came. Her doctor gave us the go-ahead just this morning. Sara’s hand guides my dick inside her, and I let out a low groan as I feel her warmth envelop me. She moans loudly, her head thrown back in pleasure. I watch as her breasts bounce with each movement, and I can’t help but reach up to grab them.

“Fuck, Sara,” I growl, my voice low and husky. “You feel so good. I missed this so much.”

She smiles down at me, her eyes dark with desire. “You like that?” she asks, her voice teasing.

I nod, my hands gripping her hips as she begins to move on my dick. At first, she moves slowly, her movements deliberate and sensual. But then she picks up the pace, bouncing faster and faster. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, but I don’t want this to end.

“Slow down, baby,” I say, my voice strained. “I don’t want to cum yet.”

Sara grins and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Who says I want you to cum already?” she asks, her voice low and seductive.

I groan as she begins to move again, her hips grinding against mine. I can feel every inch of her, and it’s driving me wild. I reach up to grab her hair, pulling her head back so I can kiss her neck.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” I murmur, my lips brushing against her skin. “I could do this all night.”

Sara moans in response, her movements becoming more erratic. I can feel her getting closer and closer to the edge, and I know I won’t be able to hold out much longer.

Her breasts are bouncing in time with her movements, and I can’t help but reach up and grab them again.

Sara leans forward, bracing herself on my chest as she continues to ride me. I can feel her breath hot against my skin, her hair tickling my face. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer to me as I thrust up into her.

“Cum for me, baby,” I say, my voice rough. “I want to feel you cum on my dick.”

But just as she’s about to go over the edge, she stops suddenly. She looks down at me with a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice strained.

“I want you to cum with me,” she says, her voice low and husky.

I groan in frustration, but I can’t deny that the thought of cumming together is incredibly hot. I reach up to grab her hips, pulling her down onto me as I thrust up into her.

“Okay, baby,” I say, my voice low and intense. “Let’s do this together.”

Sara smiles and begins to move again, her hips grinding against mine. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, and I know she’s right there with me.

“Come for me, Dimitri,” she says, her voice breathy. “I want to feel you cum inside me.”

I groan as I feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. I can feel my balls tightening, and I know I’m about to come.

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” I say, my voice strained. “I’m gonna cum inside you.”

Sara moans in response, her movements becoming more erratic. I can feel her getting closer and closer to the edge, and I know she’s about to cum too.

“Cum with me, Dimitri,” she says, her voice low and intense. “Cum with me now.”

I groan as I feel myself going over the edge. I can feel my dick pulsing inside her, and I know I’m coming.

“Fuck, Sara,” I growl, my voice low and intense. “I’m cumming.”

Sara moans in response, her movements becoming more erratic. I can feel her getting closer and closer to the edge, and I know she’s about to cum too.

“Cum with me, baby,” I say, my voice rough. “Cum with me now.”

Sara lets out a loud moan as she goes over the edge. I can feel her pussy clenching around my dick, and I know she’s cumming.

“Oh fuck, Dimitri,” she cries out, her voice breathy.

I groan as I feel her cumming around my dick. It’s the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, and I can’t believe how good it feels.

Sara collapses on top of me, her body trembling with pleasure. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as we both catch our breath.

We lay there for a few moments, basking in the afterglow of our orgasms. I can feel Sara’s heart beating against my chest, and I know that I never want to let her go.

My fingers lazily trail up and down her bare back and I press a kiss to her hair, inhaling her sweet scent.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of being with you like this,” I murmur.

Sara tilts her face up to me, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. “Mmm, me neither.”

She stretches up to give me a slow, sensual kiss before nestling back against me with a contented sigh. We lay quietly for a few minutes, simply enjoying the intimacy of the moment. My mind drifts to thoughts of our future together.

“You know,” I say, “seeing you graduate today got me thinking.”

Sara props herself up on one elbow, looking at me curiously. “Oh? What about?”

“About what comes next for you. For us.” I brush a strand of hair back from her face. “I know how passionate you are about your studies. How driven you’ve been to finish your degree.”

Sara nods, her expression thoughtful. “It’s been my dream for so long to get my bachelor’s. But now that I’m here…” She bites her lip.

“You’re wondering what’s next, aren’t you?” I finish for her.

“Yeah, I guess I am. We never really talked about what I’d do after graduating. I figured once we got married, I’d be expected to just be a housewife and mother.”

I take her hand, bringing it to my lips for a kiss. “Sara, you should know by now I want you to be happy. To pursue your passions, whatever they may be.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

“Of course.” I caress her cheek. “If you wanted to keep studying, get your master’s or even PhD, I’d support you completely. I know how brilliant you are, zvezda moya. I want to see you shine.”

“Dimitri…” Sara’s eyes glisten with emotion. She kisses me deeply. When we finally break apart, she asks excitedly, “Do you really mean it? You’d let me keep going to school?”

I chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Yes, as long as you save time for me too.” I wink playfully.

Sara laughs. “Oh, I think we’d manage.” She kisses along my jawline teasingly.

“Mmm, if this is the kind of persuasion I can expect, then I most definitely approve of more schooling for you,” I murmur, rolling us so I hover over her.

Sara grins up at me impishly. ” Maybe you could help keep me motivated?”

“I like the way you think, Mrs. Amato.” I trail kisses down her neck and across her collarbone as she sighs blissfully. “You know… if you do continue with your advanced degrees, we may need to eventually think about expanding our family.”

Sara glances up at me with a raised brow. “Oh? You want more kids already?”

I shrug, giving her a crooked smile. “I mean, one child is wonderful, of course. But just imagine – a whole house full of little ones running around. All of them taking after their brilliant, beautiful mother.”

Sara bites her lip, looking thoughtful. “It would be nice for our little one to have siblings close in age to play with…”

“Exactly,” I say. “And you know how I love to practice making babies with you.” I punctuate this with a squeeze to her backside that makes her yelp and laugh.

“You’re incorrigible,” Sara says, swatting my chest playfully. But her eyes shine with happiness.

“Perhaps.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “If I agree to fully support you pursuing higher education, would you consider giving me a second little one once you’ve finished your Masters?”

Sara pretends to consider this seriously for a moment. “Hmm well, I suppose that sounds like a reasonable arrangement, Mr. Amato.” Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “Especially if we seal the deal how we just did.”

“I like the way you negotiate, Mrs. Amato,” I growl playfully, Sara giggles then moans as I kiss a heated trail down her body.

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Anya

It doesn’t feel right to wear this much black.

Nikolai wears black every single day but since Ivan’s funeral it just feels… different. Everything is too somber. Nikolai has spent so much in his office that I don’t know how to help. I keep trying to rack my brain as much as I can to think of something that will get him out of his funk.

Last night he mentioned something about appointing a new right-hand man today. Somebody from within the ranks that has really proved himself. I think it can only be a good thing. Nikolai has me, of course, he always has me, but Ivan was special to him. A friendship like that isn’t easy to replace and I know that one way or another he needs to fill that role for himself or else the power vacuum will keep, well, sucking.

I know that there was absolutely nothing that I could have done to help save Ivan. I know that it was out of my control, but I still feel somewhat responsible. I just want to do… something. Nikolai is processing as best as he can. Which leaves me here, sitting on the couch watching yet another documentary about my favorite artists. It’s always been soothing to watch art being created. I love listening to them talking about their processes and the way their ideas come to them. At least, I usually do. Today, I have popcorn and snacks and all matter of unhealthy things piled out on the table in front of me while I lounge in my comfiest clothes, one of Nikolai’s shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. But the documentary is mostly just background noise. I can see it happening, the lights and colors dance over the dimmed room that I’m sitting in, but I can’t really hear any of it. Not really.

I don’t even notice the body lingering in the doorway. I’ve gotten far too accustomed to Nikolai’s men hanging around. I think it would be more unusual to not have a giant, muscled man watching my every move. I don’t like dehumanizing the bodyguards, but they are just a constant, permanent fixture in my life now. They don’t even seem to like to talk much. They are good enough to me and I know that they make Nikolai feel safer with me being out and about, so I tolerate them.

Which is precisely why it doesn’t even register when Horus appears with ice cream until he sits down on the couch beside me.

“I was not sure how you liked your Sunday’s, Mrs. Volkovich, so I hope that it is alright that I guessed.” Horus speaks in his accented lilt as he settles into the seat next to me. I notice that he, too, has a large ice cream bowl in his hands. The flavors of his are different, and the toppings slightly more varied but I’m more than happy to indulge in any ice cream whatsoever, so I help myself to the bowl that he brought me.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you.” I answer, pushing around the freshly whipped cream with my spoon, “but, please, just call me Anya.”

“You looked like you could perhaps use some company,” Horus continues. “I know that I am a new face that you are growing accustomed to, but I hope that I am not intruding.”

He was right. I did need some company. “No, please, anybody can watch tv.” I smile softly at him, even if I don’t feel the true emotions behind the gesture.

“I hope that it is not too forward for me to ask, but how was your day at work?”

The question strikes me as funny. “My day?” I asked with a more genuine laugh. “I think that the events of my day would bore somebody like you greatly.”

Horus angles his head as he looks at me. “Why do you say that?”

“Well it’s not nearly as interesting as what you guys do, is it?”

The corner of Horus’ mouth tilts upward. “And just what do you think that we do all day? I will grant you that certain days are much more interesting than others, but we do not run around shooting things up and rescuing damsels all day every day.”

In truth, I think that is something along the lines of what I thought that they did. The sheer amount of paperwork that I have seen Nikolai do has somewhat disenchanted me from the whole thing, but I thought that was the exception, not the rule.

“Do not delude yourself into thinking that the work that you do with the doctor is any less valuable. I assure you that you are just as vital as I am,” Horus says before he eats some more of his ice cream.

Only for it to fall right off his spoon and onto his very expensive looking tie. He swears under his breath and leans forward to place his bowl down. He grabs a napkin and starts to very carefully blot at the mess and swears again.

The first time I hear him say the word in Arabic, I’m not sure that I hear him right, but when he repeats it I am certain. One of the few languages that I happen to be fluent in.

I can’t stop the smirk from claiming me as I answer him in perfect Arabic. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Horus answers me without thinking. “My mother would turn over in her grave to hear such words.”

It is only after he finishes speaking that he seems to realize that I spoke to him in his native tongue. The shocked look on his face is perhaps that very best thing that I’ve seen all day long. This time, my laughter comes out easily and freely. It feels so good to laugh until my cheeks hurt at the sign of the Bratva second in command, shocked over me and wearing ice cream on his clothes. It’s so desperately human that it cheers me right up.

“I am pleased that my misfortune amuses you, Mrs. Volkovich.”

“I am sorry. It’s not funny,” I say quickly, trying to reign in my laughter and failing miserably. “It’s not! I promise! Can I get you anything? And I did tell you to call me Anya.”

Horus pulls off his tie and carefully folds it into his pocket. “No, I simply need to be more careful, Anya.”

“Now that, I am sure that your mother would be pleased to hear. Tell me more about your family. Where are they?” I ask him conversationally. I’ve forgotten all about the documentary playing in the background.

“Dead, unfortunately. I came to work for Nikolai shortly after I turned eighteen. I had lost my family the year before.” Horus smiles tightly. The pain of losing them so young likely still stings.

I can relate to that. “I’m sorry.”

“It happens all of the time, I am sure. It feels good to speak their language again, though. I feared that I would never have the opportunity. My father passed of a heart attack, my mother of a broken heart shortly after and I left my country and never looked back…”

“Well, I am happy to be the one to bring some joy to your life then, Horus. I know how happy my husband is that you are serving at his side now.”

“I hope to do him proud. I owe Mr. Volkovich a great deal for taking me in, for teaching me skills, letting me climb in the ranks as he has. I am partially the man that I am today because he took a chance on me.”

I would imagine so. I remember Nikolai telling me something similar about the way that his own father made him climb the ranks to earn his position. Perhaps Nikolai sees something of his own journey in Horus’.

“I think that everybody needs somebody in this world.” I admit. “I know that I do, anyway. It can get lonely when you’re on your own, it starts to feel too big. That’s why I’m so happy to be here, helping in whatever way I can.”

“I know that feeling all too well.” Horus admits. I can see the sadness behind his eyes, the hope for a friendship that I think that we both desperately need. “But now we are here, part of something bigger than ourselves. A type of family of another kind.”

“Exactly.” I beam. I lean forward and give him a can of soda, which looks horribly out of place in his hand, but he accepts it anyway as I lift mine into a toast. “To finding friends, however they get here.”

“To new friendships, and bright futures.” Horus tapped the aluminum brim against mine, and we both deink.

When I smiled, it doesn’t feel forced at all.

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Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book?

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

Which was the part you liked most in the book?

Even a character, a scene, or anything that you enjoyed.

Is there one (or more) character(s) in this series that you would like to read more about in a sequel?

It could be a character from any book of the series (Chains of Desire). You could say no if there isn't any.

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• I read the prologue, but not the Alek's POV scene.
• I read the Alek's POV, but not the prologue scene.
• I skipped the bonus content initially, but plan to go back and read it after finishing the main story.
• I skipped the bonus content because the interruptions were annoying and/or off putting.

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Alek

Four Months Later

Anya was impossibly beautiful when I met her, but she looks even more like an angel now. She’s only just started to show that darling belly. She and Helena have been taking advantage of the local yoga studio and the pregnancy classes they offer. She is busy with the final touches to our house, then we can move in. I offered to just get the bedroom up and going but she said that she’s ready to start nesting as quickly as possible. I guess that I can’t deny her that.

As if I ever really had the power to deny her anything at all.

Whatever Anya and our child wants, she’s going to get.

We have yet another dinner planned for tonight. I’m planning on asking her a very, very important question. One that will tie the two of us together for life if she says yes. I’ve picked out a stunning ring for her, one that will fit her exotic charm and beauty. But there’s something that I have to do first, even if I don’t want to.

I had to pull a hell of a lot of strings to get the meeting I’m going to today. I need everything to go perfectly so that I can fly back home in time to make my dinner date.

Before Anya can marry me, she has to divorce Nikolai officially in the eyes of the court. While I detest the legal system and just about everything involved with it, I know that there’s really not much of a choice. This is what she wants, to be free from him once and for all so that she can take my name. Anya wants this finished before she gives birth so that there can be no issue with the birth certificate. It’s my job to make that happen. No matter what it takes. So, that’s exactly what I plan on doing.

I’ve had Horus deliver at least a dozen copies of the divorce paperwork to the maximum-security prison where Nikolai is being kept, but the bastard has refused to sign a single one. What he’s hoping he’s going to get out of that is unclear. It’s why I am dragging my ass across the country to go and see his miserable ass. Whatever it takes to change his mind.

I take my sunglasses off as the security camera scans me and permits me access. I’m sure that at least half of the guards here would love to lock me up with the rest of the criminals and throw away the key, but money can buy just about anything. And I have all of Nikolai’s.

They take me to a room where Nikolai is waiting, chained and cuffed to the table, his hands shackled to the floor. He’s wearing a mask over the lower half of his face that looks like something straight out of a horror movie. I guess he tried biting again.

I don’t bother with pleasantries or greetings as I slide into the chair across from his and lean back. I cross one ankle over my knee and wait for him to speak first. I place the papers on the table and pull a pen from my pocket. I’m not stupid enough to put it within his easy reach. Not yet. Not until I know that he’s going to sign.

“You’ve wasted your time, Ivankov,” Nikolai practically spits his words at me. “I’m not signing shit.”

“Still haven’t learned to share in there? Pity.” I grin, mostly because I know that it’s going to piss him off… and I just can’t help myself.

“I’m not signing that.”

“Anya will divorce you one way or another. You can spare yourself the humiliation of being dragged through court and her testimony by just signing, asshole.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

“I don’t have to watch anything. I’m not the prisoner here, prick.” I continue. Riling him up isn’t going to help anything, I know that. But if he thinks that he’s going to get something out of this deal, he needs to spit it out fast. I don’t have much time here.

Nikolai growls, fuming.

I sigh, relenting. I check my watch. I really do have to get a move on things. “You’re wasting my time. And, unlike you, I have things to do. So, what’s it going to take for you to sign these papers?”

“You think that I don’t know what you’ve been up to? The things that you’ve stolen from me? You can’t possibly think that it’s going to last.”

“Actually, I do think that. I didn’t make any moves in secret, Volkovich. I wanted you to know that I took everything from you. It’s the very least you deserve. I hope you understand how it feels. Isn’t that part of your rehabilitation program? Humility? Making amends?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Nikolai spits again.

“I would rather fuck your wife.” My smile is bordering on feral. It’s hard to keep from leaning across this table and smashing Nikolai’s face into the metal over and over again. I want nothing more than to see him bleed.

We both seem to have learned excellent restraint, but really, it’s probably just because we are being so closely watched at this exact moment.

“I’m going to get out of here, Ivankov.”

“Not likely,” I gloat as I cross my arms over my chest.

“I am, and you’re going to help me do it if you want me to sign those damned papers.” Nikolai says with a knowing smirk.

Of course that’s what he wants. Of course he does. He probably thinks that there’s some sort of poetic irony over the whole thing. I have to fight to keep from sneering at him for the sheer nerve of asking me such a thing. I would love nothing more than to slap the sheer arrogance right off his damned face.

“And what makes you think that I’m going to give you anything at all? I’m only here as a courtesy that you sure as hell don’t deserve in the first place.” I lean forward, making sure that he’s getting my point.

“Yes, well, when you commandeered all my assets like some bandit in the night, you effectively prevented me from hiring my own council. So you can either hire one on my behalf, or you can give my funds back. Either or.” Nikolai continues.

“I don’t think that you understand the position that you’re in here. You have no leverage. Nothing to bargain with. I don’t have to give you shit.”

“If you want me to sign those papers you do. Hire my lawyer, and you can have the whore.”

My knuckles crack from the force of not punching him. What I wouldn’t give to be able to lock him in a room somewhere and punch him until every bone in my fist breaks.

“And just who might this lawyer that you’re wanting be?”

“Kate Thorne.” Nikolai says flatly.

I scoff. Everybody has heard of her. “She’s never going to work with somebody like you.”

“Of course she will. She is known for taking on the toughest challenges, and my case will be for her. She will take it, because you’re going to pay whatever fee that she names, no matter how high. Or else, I’m keeping Anya.”

I sneer at him. I push away from the table. “We’re done here.”

“Oh, and you’re going to testify in my favor too.” Nikolai adds.

“You’re truly delusional, do you know that?”

“I’m correct. That is what’s going to happen. If you want to storm out of here and talk it over with Anya, be my guest, but you will be back here because you’re going to realize that this is your only option. I’m getting out of this prison whether you like it or not. You will do this, and we will finish our business later. As free men. Don’t you want to see which one of us is really going to come out on top?” Nikolai taunts.

I do. I do want to see how that fight goes. But it’s not just me that I have to think about. It’s Anya and the baby. We still haven’t even learned the sex of the child yet. Anya says that she doesn’t want to know because it doesn’t matter.

No lawyer in their right might will let him out. No judge or jury will permit something like that with the a crime list as long as his.

It might be a mistake, but I know in my bones that he’s going to rot in here.

Besides, if he’s out of prison it will make it all the easier for me to put a bullet between his eyes. I won’t even feel bad about it. “Fine.” The word is like bile on my tongue.

“I want more than that, Ivankov.”

“You have my word, Volkovich, I’ll get you the damned lawyer but we both know it’s not going to be enough to get out of here.”

Nikolai leans forward, his fingertips brushing the bottom of the divorce decree and pulls it closer to him. He holds his hand out expectantly for me to put the pen in his hands, and I oblige him. What choice is there? There is nothing that I won’t do for Anya’s happiness. If she wants a huge wedding and rings and a legal ceremony, then that’s exactly what she’s going to get.

No matter the cost.

“Actually,” Nicolai smirks gleefully. “Perhaps my new lawyer ought to be the one to look over these papers before I go ahead and sign them. Why don’t you just go ahead and pass all of those on along to Ms. Thorne and she can bring them back here when she’s done looking over everything.”

Of course, the bastard would pull something like this. Of course, he’s going to try to pull something at the very last minute to ensure that he keeps having the upper hand.

The plastic of the pen threatens to break in my hand.

“You should probably get a move on, though. My sources say that my wife is a good few months along now. I don’t think that I have to remind you what will happen if she still has my last name when the child is born?”

I don’t even want to know how he knows. Anya is going to be devastated when she finds out that he knows. She’s been so damned careful. It’s almost impossible to get her out of the house since she started showing, all for nothing. All of this, all of our vigilance and efforts have been for fucking nothing.

“And I will lay claim to that child, Alek, if it is born with my name. Mark my word., Nikolai promises, a sinister twist in his voice as his lips twist higher into a feral smile.

I tuck the divorce papers away in my coat, slip my glasses back on my face and head out of the prison. Anything for the happiness of my family. Anything.

***

Tonight was supposed to be a wonderful occasion and I can’t help but feel like I ruined it. We have only just finished our meal but the engagement ring in my pocket already feels like a weight. How am I supposed to look Anya in the eye and tell her what happened today? I had hoped that I could present her with the papers signed. I was going to grant her the freedom that she has been obsessed with over the last few months, and rightly so. Then, I was going to present her with the option of joining herself to me.

I know that she wants to. She’s been hinting at it. Not subtly either.

The ring that I have purchased for her, she practically picked out herself. Short of going there and pulling it out and taking my card. She talks about marriage all the time and how things in our future are going to be. It wasn’t something that I had ever given any true serious thought to before her. Lilian and I would have probably gotten married at some point, but not for love. We would have done it for Henry.

Henry who has become the light of our lives.

Just this morning he finished picking the final touches that he wants to put onto his room when it is finished at our house. Anya has been furniture shopping while helping Helena with some of her online courses. My sister has decided that in addition to being a middle school teacher, she also wants to obtain her master’s degree.

I don’t know who in our little found family is the proudest of her if I’m being honest.

“Spit it out.” Anya says over dessert. She wipes the corners of her mouth before slapping her cloth napkin down onto the table in front of her.

I turn my focus to her, truly looking at her. She looks ethereal in the gown I chose for her. Jewel tones and panels of fabric that drape so prettily over her rounded belly, pushing her breasts up and accentuating every curve of her body. It would have been perfect. Will be. The answer to her question is right on the very tip of my tongue. The words are right there, ready to spill out.

No secrets. We did promise one another that. I certainly am not going to start keeping stuff from her now.

“I went to the prison today and saw him.” I don’t have to specify who I mean, she knows.

Anya visibly pales at the comment.

“See?” I gesture to her. “That is why I hesitated to tell you. He still has this grip of terror over you and nothing I do or say is going to make it any better.”

It makes me feel weak. My whole purpose in life now is to protect her and our child. To make her feel safe. To know that all of them can depend on me no matter what comes. And yet there’s doubt on her face.

“What did he say? Why did you go?”

I pick at an invisible spec of lint on the tablecloth. “I wanted him to sign the damned papers, it was supposed to be a present for you.”

“Naturally he didn’t sign them.”

“Quite the opposite. It seems that he’s been damned busy since he’s been behind bars. He wants me to hire a lawy-”

“You said no. Right? That’s fucking insane. No way in fuck are we hiring somebody to defend him! There’s a reason that he can’t find representation! He’s a fucking psychopath, Alek! The judge will grant me a divorce on the grounds of estrangement eventually, they have to…” Anya’s hands drop to her belly, to our child, as if she can cover their ears so that no sound can carry through her skin.

“We both know he’s still buying every judge that he comes across.”

“He can’t! There has to be a limit! Alek! This cannot-”

“He knows that you’re pregnant Anya…” I answer bluntly, ripping off the bandage. I can hardly meet her eyes as my own rage simmers just below the surface.

Anya says nothing but tears start to well in her eyes. “It’s never going to be over… is it?”

I hate the way her shoulders slump. I hate that she looks so damned tormented and there’s nothing I can do about it. At least, nothing that is not terribly complicated. “If we play along with his little game, then we have the chance to twist this in a way that will work to our advantage.”

The words sound cheap to my own damn ears.

“No. That’s how he works. He’s going to use this to his advantage just so that he can have another chance to kill me… to kill Helena… to hurt Henry… our child. Alek, we can’t!”

She’s starting to hyperventilate. I move out of my seat and move to kneel in front of her. I take both of her hands into my own and shake my head. “I’m never going to allow that to happen. Surely you have to know that I’m never going to allow somebody like him near you again. The ball is in our court this time, we have the cards. We will make this work in our favor.”

“You can’t know that, you can’t.”

“You have to trust me. Trust this plan. And if worse comes to worse, then he can be free just so I can kill him myself.” I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t a damned appealing prospect in and of itself.

Anya sniffles and pushes her fingers through mine with a sad nod.

“I’m sorry that it has to come to this. I really am.” I say, and I mean it. “It’s certainly not how I wanted tonight to go…”

“How did you want tonight to go?” Anya asks.

I pull the ring box from my pocket and place it on the table, closed. I let it sit between us on the table with a sigh. “I had a whole plan to give you the papers and then ask you to share your freedom with me…”

Anya snatches the box and openes it. “Shh.” She says, her tears drying as she looks at the ring and pulls it from the box. She placed it on her finger slowly and holds her hand out in front of her and admires the way the diamonds catch the light.

She flings her hands around my neck next and hugs herself to my body with enough force that she nearly knocks us both backward onto the ground.

“You’re right.” She mutters against the side of my face. “We will face this together.”

“Always.” I kiss her temple and smile. “Is that a yes? Will you marry me?”

“Yes, of course! I love you, Alek.”

“Whatever else comes, we will overcome it as a family.” I kiss her softly. “I love you too.”

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Alek

“On your knees.”

There’s something so damned intoxicating about seeing Anya on her knees for me. Her stunning face looking up at me with her eyes bright and wide. Perfect submission is the best gift that I think that I’ve ever gotten in my life. She’s terrified. Not because of me but because of what might happen tomorrow or the day after if we can’t figure something out.

Tomorrow morning the first order of business is going to be to meet with Daniel so that we can make a plan to merc Nikolai in any way that we can. I don’t care what it takes, the idea of Nikolai’s hands on Anya in any capacity ever again makes me blind with rage.

She’s looking up at me like this might be our last time together.

The look in her eyes is resolute, like there won’t be another opportunity to be with one another or that she will go off and play the martyr. Henry will be safe. Of course he will. But tonight, we both need the break. We have to let some steam off, remind ourselves that we are still alive and kicking. At least for now. We’ve both come so far in the short amount of time that we’ve known each other. I won’t allow us to backslide now.

“Hands behind your back princess.” I command. There’s no room for argument in my voice. She slides her arms behind her back slowly and I see that shift in her eyes. The comfortable look that comes each time that she’s been present and settled inside of her body, and ready to be commanded. Ready for me to use as I see fit.

Her knees part, her back arches her chest forward as she holds her opposite elbow behind her back. She’s so damned perfect. I can hardly believe it. Her eyes flutter closed, and her breathing starts to even out.

“If you say stop, we stop princess. Nod that you understand me.”

My breath is locked inside of my chest until she answers me. She nods. I exhale. It’s a comfortable sort of calm that settles over me as the tension slowly starts to ease out of my shoulders. Little by little the plan of action unfolds in my mind. Her skin is so soft, it’s a hard choice where to start. I don’t think that I’m ever going to be over wanting her. I don’t think that it will ever be possible to get my fill of her. I think that I could easily spend the rest of my life trying to sate my hunger for her, and also be totally fine with never accomplishing that goal. I restrain her easily, tethering her to the footboard of the bed so that she can’t fall forward or move too much.

“Pain or pleasure?” I ask. One is going to be significantly harder than the other right now, as I can already feel my heart reaching for her. It’s my job to be here for anything that she needs. No matter which option she chooses.

At the same time, she needs to know that I am still in control here, no matter what choice she makes. As such, not answering my direct question will never be an option that I’m going to tolerate. My knuckles graze down the curve of her arm and shift over to cup her full breast into my hand. My thumb brushes over her nipple through her shirt, rubbing until the skin is hard and peaked before pinching it sharply to force her to answer me. I haven’t had any reason to punish her yet, but I will if I have to.

“I asked you a question, princess.” I hope my voice sounds controlled, because I feel like if she keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to lose control entirely.

“…pleasure.” She whispers without breaking eye contact.

That was what I was hoping that she would choose. “Good girl, princess,” I hum softly and she watches with hunger as I pull my shirt over my head slowly. I slide my pants down, hard and straining for her as I reach forward and cup the back of her head softly. “Earn your pleasure, princess.” I command softly.

It’s a test for both of us. Both for her, to work for what she’s wanting, and for me to give her just that tiny bit of control that I’ve never let another woman have over me before. I’ve never even let another woman come close. I stand just out of reach of her perfect, sensual mouth on purpose. With the way that she’s tethered she’s going to have to strain to the point of just past discomfort to reach me.

But by god, does she try.

I’m not going to last long with her tongue lapping at my head like that. Her perfect tongue, divine as it swirls around me, struggling to pull me further into her mouth with every pass that she makes. I want nothing more than to grab onto her head and fuck that perfect little mouth, but I can’t. She makes me want to lose control every single time that I get to have her all to myself like this.

Knowing that she wants me, wants more of my cock, that she’s hungry for it, is intoxicating. “You can do better than that. Don’t you want your reward, princess?” I goad her.

It works.

She moves forward, pulling me in closer and I have no choice but to buck my hips toward her, disappearing further into her mouth. It feels so damned divine that my head falls back as my hand slips down to hold the soft hair on the back of her head as a groan of pleasure leaves me.

The normal feelings of hesitation aren’t there. Normally, a move like that has my lungs locking up and bile rising in the back of my throat. Touch is hard for me, I wasn’t lying about that. Perhaps it’s different because it’s with her. Because Anya is the one, and she’s already more than proven herself to me. She would not do the things that still fill my nightmares.

“Deeper,” I growl, my voice husky with need as I struggle to keep my hands off her. My skin doesn’t crawl. I don’t feel the need to run away from her as fast as I can. Perhaps if I can do this, we can do more. Perhaps with Anya it could be different than it has been with the other girls in the past. I have to know.

I reach down to cup her chin, my fingers curling possessively over the bone and urging her forward again. I watch with rapt attention as every bit of my cock that could fit disappears between those perfect lips. She gags again, the sound more erotic than it has any right to be. Even still, she tries to take me again, wanting all of me. I can tell. Saliva strings out in ropes as I ease myself from her lips. I bend at the waist and kiss her, wiping away the spit as I remove my hand from under her chin.

The feeling of pride that fills me is surreal. “Good job, princess.”

I love the way her eyes seem to sparkle each and every time I call her princess.

I scoop her up by the elbows and bending her over the footboard. I slide her shorts down my legs, admiring the shape of them, the delicate muscle and the way her skin feels against my hands before kissing the curve of her hip, the back of her thigh and calf, before bending one leg at the knee to hook over the end of the bed. She teeters for a moment, and catches her balance the next.

Before she can guess my next move, I sink to a knee behind her, my tongue returning the favor that she has given me moments ago. Her moans of pleasure are swallowed by the soft begging as she bucks and writhes against my face. My tongue delves inside of her, curling to a place that makes her cry out in pleasure before moving back to her clit and lavishing my attention there. I wait until her breaths start to catch – until her gasps and moans are wild and unchecked as she tries to frantically turn herself against my face. I know that she’s close, I can feel it.

We can’t have her finishing too soon now, can we?

I pull tongue away from the apex of her thighs. The noise of loss that she makes is desperate enough that I almost take pity on her. I certainly haven’t yet had my fill of her sweetness. She tastes unlike anything that I’ve ever had before and I’m addicted to it.

My hands find her hips a moment later. I have to have her now, neither one of us can take the anticipation any longer and when she cums, she’s going to do so on my dick. I bury myself inside of her in one quick thrust. She tries to push back into me, her hips finding a rhythm with mine, but each time that I feel her walls gripping me anew, every time that she gets closer, I change pace to make sure that she doesn’t orgasm. When she does, I know that it’s going to be explosive.

It doesn’t take long at all until her moans and softly pleaded words turn into something else entirely. Desperate and frantic as she seeks sensation, harder, more, something that she doesn’t even know. I love watching her come undone. I don’t even truly mind that she’s fucking herself back onto my dick despite the restraints. I keep going until she’s screaming. Until she’s lost all sense of herself, until I am positive that I am the absolute only thing that she can think of and that nothing exists outside of this room, and only our bodies matter.

It’s physically painful for me to pull out from inside of her. I need her, my body is shaking with need for her. I pick her up by the hips, flipping her onto her back and pushing the pair of us up onto the bed, pushing back inside of her as quickly as I can. Her scream drowns out my own guttural groan of pleasure. Just the feeling of her is intense. I almost lose it right then and there. I think that chunks of my sanity are slipping away from me with every thrust, closer and closer to the finish line until then it’s there, no more denial, no more waiting as I empty myself into her with force and a torrent that feels never ending as Anya grips me tighter and tighter. Her perfect body twitching and writing underneath me as she barrels through wave after wave of pleasure.

I think she passes out for a moment as I ease from her when I’m capable of moving again. When my sanity is enough to free her arms and pull her body into my chest. Her hands press into my chest, and it feels… right.

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Vittoria

“Are you close?”

“Yes, I’m driving into the estate now,” Eva giggles on the phone.

“Eva, don’t give us away. It has to be a secret until we are sure,” I suck my teeth and I know she just rolled her eyes even though I cannot see her.

“Yeah, yeah… blah blah blah.”

“Eva,” I try for a firmer tone, but who am I kidding? She does whatever she wants half the time. “We are best friends, have my back here.” There goes the never-failing emotional blackmail.

“Fine,” she sucks her teeth, “you will see me soon.”

I start to say something, but she ends the call. That’s classic Eva. I take a deep breath and try to distract myself. My legs move before my brain clicks that I’m pacing in her bedroom.

Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four… I halt, spin in a different direction, and continue my pacing.

I’m counting the portraits on Eva’s wall while waiting impatiently for her to show up with the test strips.

I’m not sure what it is I’m feeling, but I have been nauseous for two days and I cannot stand the smell of my favorite perfume. I get dizzy, too. Not to add the embarrassing moment I fell asleep in the middle of a conversation with Emanuele yesterday. He was talking about business in the study, and I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the middle of the night on the mattress in our bedroom.

It might not be what I’m thinking, but what if? I halt. What if I’m pregnant? My stomach ruffles, and I gulp, trying to tamper my giddiness so I don’t go overboard and get disappointed if that isn’t the case.

I inhale sharply and then continue to count the portraits on Eva’s wall.

It feels more like a gallery here than a bedroom. But it’s only pictures of people she cares about on the walls. Emanuele, me, and Fabio. More of her father than anyone. There are three of mine, and Fabio has only one. It’s not a clear take, a little blurry, and it’s not because of the editing. It’s more like she was moving when she took the picture of him because he seems to be standing in place. It looks different, too, in an unprofessional way. The rest are pictures of her and Emanuele. No Salvatore in sight. When Emanuele told us the day after my accident what had happened it was a terrible shock, especially for Eva, but I honestly wasn’t all that surprised. The traitor should run because while Emanuele may not be able to kill his son, I will stop at nothing to protect ​what is mine​. He should ask around.

I sit on her queen-size mattress that is covered in cherry pink bed sheets with a duvet of a lighter shade of the same color. I begin to bounce my army green suede boot-covered feet and pick at the chipped black polish on my nails. I have been indoctrinated into denim and oversized T-shirts.

“I’m here,” Eva bursts into her bedroom in gray sweatpants and a white gym bra, and I stand, dropping my phone on the mattress. “Here you go,” she opens a camera bag and pulls out a grocery bag, then tosses it at me. “Go on,” she rubs her hands eagerly against each other.

I nod, gulp, and inhale loudly.

“It will be fine,” she smiles and shushes me away towards the bathroom with her hand.

I grunt, letting her push me till I am at the door of her bathroom. She opens the door and continues to push me until I’m inside. Then she closes it.

I glare at myself in the mirror. It might be what I think it is. My lips look fuller, or maybe I’m exaggerating because I want to see physical signs.

I pull out the test strips. There are seven in here, Eva got four extra—a best friend indeed, matching my craziness.

I take the first test, and my heart drops to my stomach and shoots straight up to hit my chest hard. I’m pregnant. My eyes prick, and my throat goes dry.

It is with shaky hands I take the rest of the tests, and all seven of them come out with the same result. I can hear Eva grunting and pacing by the door, but I take a moment for myself. I try to take deep breaths to calm my nerves.

I open the door slowly, one hand resting protectively on my stomach, my eyes clouded with tears.

“Are you…?” Eva is already tearing up.

I nod, “Yes, I’m pregnant.”

“Yes!” She squeaks and lifts me off the floor, then spins me around. “Can I be the baby’s aunt instead of sister?” she chews her lips eagerly. “You know, because of the age difference,” she swipes a tear off her cheeks, and mine run free down my cheek.

“No.”

We both turn in the direction of the door of her bedroom to see Emanuele standing there in black jeans and a black t-shirt.

“You didn’t lock the door?” I click my teeth at Eva.

She gives a Cheshire smile, “Oops.”

I thought a romantic dinner would be a good way to tell him about it. Or even cuddling at night after sex. But, Eva… I pout, but Emanuele prances to us. I don’t let him get close; instead, I run up to him and hurl myself at him. He captures me and kisses me fervently.

“I’m pregnant,” I tilt my head to meet his eyes.

He smiles. “We are pregnant,” he kisses me softly on the lips.

I nod into the kiss, “We are pregnant.”

“Having a baby sister at this point is a little…” Eva blows raspberries.

“Or baby brother,” Emanuele says firmly, “And there is nothing wrong with that. Besides, you will have your own family to care for.”

Oh, no. I bury my face in Emanuele’s chest to avoid looking at her because I can feel what is coming next.

“I don’t even have a boyfriend, how am I starting a family already?” Eva scoffs.

“You have Fabio,” Emanuele retorts, and I grit my teeth for her sake.

“I have who?” Eva snorts, “That’s a joke, right?”

“You are marrying him,” Emanuele makes it firmer.

“Why?”

“Why not?” he clips.

“Dad, we are talking about Fabio here, and me,” her voice is breaking, and it’s the last thing I want for her.

I pull away from Emanuele and go to her, then wrap my arms around her.

“I don’t want to be married to him,” Eva sniffs.

“Come on, baby,” Emanuele opens his arms, and she goes to him, dropping her head on his chest, “I want what is best for you.”

Eva may not want to admit it now, but I can swear there is something there. I might be wrong, too, but… I join the embrace, and Emanuele wraps one hand around me while I do the same to Eva.

She is not alone. I will be with her every step of the way and make sure it is truly in her best interest, more than anyone else. We have something in common, and that is infuriating men in our lives. But my heart is going out to Eva because Fabio is a different breed of dominant.

“I don’t like him,” she mumbles.

“Maybe that’s a good start,” I stroke her back.

Not liking him is a good start. All the best love stories start with that lie… line.

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Emanuele

Blood. Sweat. Tears.

I’m ready to spill them all in order to protect la Famiglia. To protect what has been given to me to look after. And every bloody tortured soul that I have sent to hell knows I will go above and beyond for what is mine.

Especially before.

I flick open my customized gold electronic lighter and close it. The clicking sound has a way of bringing my mind back to the present and keeping it grounded on things that are important.

There was a time when this problem would have been met with the same severity the Bratva is conjuring. A time when I could afford to follow them to hell and have our demons dance the dance of death.

Back when it was easier to fight a war, knowing I had nothing but my life to lose. It was easier to be the first one to lift a sword and slash when it was just my life on the line. It was a time when I was that man who swung into action and let mayhem rain. But that was until I found out how much I had to lose ten years ago.

I flick my lighter again, and this time, I take it to the cigar between my lips and light it up. Then, I flip it closed, savoring the smoky leather taste and the smell of the cigar.

This time, I choose the pen, and by the Saints, I pray the screwball, Boris, doesn’t reach for the sword as is expected of him.

I adjust the French sleeve of my black dress shirt and clip the diamond cufflinks in the buttonhole.

I drag and puff, using the corner of my lips to blow out flurrying leather-scented smoke.

An Apocalypse.

That is what I’m fighting against.

No matter the amount of heat from my long enemy, Boris, I won’t shrink away. I detest the fucking fact that he is still standing. Boris is the kind of enemy that has woken me up every day with cuss words on my lips. He has been tossing problems my way constantly. He is like a cancer to my soul. He keeps reoccurring when I least expect it.

Now it’s a fight for dominance and the bloody fact that the screwball is ruining business for me in Los Angeles. That thing of the sky being wide enough for every star isn’t something the bastard has heard of.

I stare blankly at my reflection in the mirror, with a scowl forming on the corner of my lips as I clip in my other diamond cufflinks.

The problems won’t stop coming. And the solutions are radioactive. Bloody questionable by reasonable standards.

I snort and pick up my black suit hanging on the armrest of the black leather sofa beside me.

I don’t have a problem with what we are about to do, but I hate that Boris is influencing it. I don’t like to be pushed into making decisions. I don’t like the bloody idea of feeling cornered and having my options narrowed down to one.

I slip my hand into the sleeve of the suit.

Or maybe it’s the fucking fact that I now have to depend on some girl, who reeks of trouble from the little I know about her, to bring salvation to the whirlpool of madness Boris seems to keep sending my way.

I slip my second hand into the sleeve of the suit and adjust it to sit properly on me, then button it.

I do deserve him.

I can’t deny that.

A man like me does not have the luxury of saying I did something in a previous life to deserve being fucked over continuously in this one because, I have already done too bloody much in this one, and if I’m being honest, I can admit the punishment is still too small.

A measly punishment for the havoc I rained when I was much younger and power-hungry. The benefit of which the Teso clan still enjoys to date. I planted the seed with my ruthlessness, and we are enjoying the shade from its branches.

I pick up my black diamond-encrusted wristwatch on the armrest.

He is goading me. Every time he strikes, he is closing the walls around me. He wants the same thing I want, which is war, but he doesn’t have the same thing I have to lose, which is a family I care about. Maybe I can allow my son Salvatore to find his way in this world of shadows, but what about my little girl, Eva?

I clip the wristwatch in. Glower at my reflection. I’m draped in black. A perfect contrast to the clinical white walls of the hotel room I’m standing in. The color has been mine for ten years now, and I’m not done with it. I don’t think I will be any time soon.

“Ready?” Salvatore, the son I have been sourly displeased with, pokes his head into my room in a crisp white shirt and black dress pants. An undone tie hangs loosely from his neck. Strands of his unruly black curls bounce forward to cover his bushy eyebrows.

I have tried in every way to make a proper man out of him. And I am not even asking too much. I can’t ask him to be perfect because who am I deceiving? I know he has his demons. I can see the darkness in him through his eyes as clearly as mine. But he can start by dressing up to look less like a delinquent.

“Come here,” I twirl the ring’s band on my index finger to position the bezel so that the sign is visible.

He grumbles, as expected, and strides toward me.

“If you don’t know what to do with a tie, it’s not a must.” I don’t have time to help him, a fucking twenty-eight-year-old man knot his tie. I will not do that. Not on a day like today, when he is supposed to step up and make an attempt to show he is man enough for the type of deal we are going to discuss.

“Thank God.” He throws the tie on the bed.

“Thank God?” I knit my brows together. “If you can’t knot a damn tie, how are you going to hold your home?” My cold tone is nothing like the fire in my stomach because of how much he has consistently disappointed me.

“We measure that with fashion know-how now?” He has the nerve to snort, “Dad, anyone can learn it, but it doesn’t make them a proper man.”

“It’s a start,” because hell, the journey of a thousand miles starts with one fucking baby step, and this son of mine won’t even crawl for me to begin the journey. By the bloody Saints.

“I’m here at least, I’m doing this.”

“You think you have a choice?”

“Isn’t it a good thing that I know I don’t, and I’m acting accordingly?”

As much as every father wants to have a child who is compliant, it wouldn’t hurt to sometimes see their child speak up and fight back. The only bloody time he fights back is when his sister has something he wants. What leader will he be if he can’t ever speak up against a decision I’m making for the clan? They have not all been good, and sometimes I deliberately suggest some bad ones to see if he will rebel. But he never does.

I arch an eyebrow, “Button up, we can’t be late,” I strut past him and out of the room. I can’t stand him any more than I can stand his choice of cologne. He smells like dust and spice.

He takes his time but does as told. I’m almost at the elevator when I hear the sound of the room door closing and Salvatore hurrying behind me.

“Listen,” I turn to him, and he halts, close enough to me to show me that the only thing he takes after me is his height. “Stay calm, stay collected.”

“I can do that,” he shrugs.

He can. He is good at that— perhaps another thing he got from me.

I don’t have unrealistic expectations for him, I just need him to show me he can be the leader that I have invested time and resources trying to groom him into. He is unfailing with his disappointment, and I have it up to my neck with him.

I have lived through every bloody hell imaginable for a human, and I can’t say I’m grateful that I’m still alive because it only means getting tortured over and over again in every way possible.

Salvatore is one of the many torture weapons inflicted upon me, and every shortcoming of his digs into my skin no matter how thick I’ve coated it with layers.

I nod curtly and turn to press the elevator button. It opens, and we both walk into the steel box. Father and son. But today, I’m going as his consigliere.

I push for the seventh floor which is the exclusive restaurant of the hotel where we will be meeting with Massimo to discuss the offer he is making, which we need more than anything at this point to help with the Bratva situation. It is for this reason we came from the city of angels to the city that never sleeps. I still feel jet lagged from the late-night flight from LA to New York. But I’ve had worse days. And I will have more if we don’t fix this problem soon.

The elevator opens, and we walk out to find Massimo already seated on a leather sofa with a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

His piercing light blue eyes make and hold eye contact with us as we walk to him, his one hand resting on the armrest of the sofa, and one leg stretched under the table authoritatively. The air around him is charged in a way I’m hoping Salvatore will manage someday.

The restaurant is dusky, with only a warm light from the chandelier hanging over Massimo’s head. And empty, cleared out for this meeting. There’s a waiter behind the bar in a mushroom shirt who doesn’t look much like a waiter, more like a bodyguard doubling as a waiter for the meeting, now arranging two more whiskey glasses on a tray.

“Salvatore,” Massimo looks at the gold wristwatch he has on, “right on time,” he lifts his chin, showing something akin to a smile. “Emanuele,” he nods slightly in acknowledgment of my presence.

“Massimo,” Salvatore reaches for a handshake and sits opposite him.

“Massimo,” I nod curtly and take my seat beside Salvatore.

The waiter walks out of the bar to us with the whiskey glasses and sets them on the table.

“I’m hoping we have the same preference, but if not,” Massimo uses his head as a pointer to gesture we can make our orders.

“We do,” Salvatore smiles, and the waiter pours him a drink. Too agreeable. He hates whiskey, and I only know because I heard him grumbling to a friend about it on the phone when he was twenty-one. Every single time he comes to my study, I offer him whiskey, waiting to see the day when he says no and has the balls to demand the drink he wants. So here we are, with him being handed a glass of whiskey. I might as well kiss the wish of his competence bloody goodbye.

“I have a family to get back to,” Massimo picks up his glass of whiskey, “we are going for a vacation,” he slides to the edge of his seat and leans forward, “so I will make this quick,” he sips his whiskey.

“Only someone like you would end a merger like the one Giuseppe proposed,” Salvatore leans back in his seat and crosses a leg over the other.

“What can I say, the heart wants what it wants,” Massimo does his chin-lift smile again, “You should try that sometimes, Salvatore.”

Brutal.

Bloody brutal.

But where is the fucking lie?

“Vittoria tried to sell my wife to the Camorra, and as much as I would think death was an appropriate retribution for such an act, starting a war with Giuseppe after rejecting his daughter and having a family with the woman I rejected his daughter for, won’t mix,” Massimo drops his glass of whiskey, “I know there’s something you need that Giuseppe can give you with ease, and my connection can strengthen your hand here in New York.”

“The Bratva is a pain in the ass,” Salvatore chimes in, “business is hard with them around.”

“You won’t have to worry about them to do your business, not when you have a man like Giuseppe by your side,” Massimo continues. “This way, everyone gets what they want,” Massimo twists the signet ring on his left index finger. “He is looking to marry her off for a good deal, so with this arrangement he gets his daughter married into a reputable family that he can get a better deal from than mine, and you have your problem fixed because he has a connection with La eMe. You can continue business better with the alliance, and I…” he chuckles, “I get what I want, too.”

“To have her married to me?” Salvatore blows, “I must be a horrible person if you think marrying me is enough punishment for what she did to you.”

“Is it not?” Massimo drops his head to the side to look at Salvatore with narrowed eyes. “You are the kind of horrible, using your choice of word, that she needs.” He leans back in his seat, resting his elbow on the armrest, “to put it plainly, Salvatore, tame her, break her wings, and choke her with her bitter herb if you are up to the challenge, because Vittoria Mancuso is no easy one.”

“At least I get something worth the while,” Salvatore sips his whiskey, “I will have fun with this one.”

Problem solved.

Salvatore seems like he is doing this more for himself than for the reason we set out to do this, and I can’t say it doesn’t make me relax a bit. I’m still his father, after all, and if this Vittoria can assist with bringing out this side of him, then I’m all for it. If he can show me he has balls and he can tame a wild one like her, then he will pass the test of leadership, and I won’t hold the past failures against him.

“Good luck with her,” Massimo smiles now.

“I need it, don’t I?” Salvatore chuckles dryly.

There are no normal men in this business. Everyone has their demon. It’s the perfect balance. The Ying to whatever little bloody Yang we have left. It is where you channel the bloody thing that makes any difference.

“We can say we have an understanding,” Massimo lifts his glass of whiskey.

“I assure you we do,” Salvatore lifts his glass of whiskey, too.

They make a silent toast, and both sip.

One down. One more to go.

We have a meeting with the Mancusos next.

This new deal looks easy on the eye. Having an alliance with a family like the Mancusos is one way to solve the problems of our business constantly being interrupted by Boris and his beavers. But the problem with things that look too easy is that they’re often the tricky ones.

Vittoria feels like a rose with thorns sharp enough to cut through steel. She can save my clan or she can bring us down. My gut tells me she will unquestionably opt for the latter.

Bloody Saints.

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Emanuele

She is stubborn and, as much as the game of taming her thrills me and makes blood surge to my groin, I am mostly careful not to overstep.

Sometimes, I feel her resolve might make her not say anything until it is too late, so I have to watch out for her and me.

I let my eyes rake her naked pale-flushed body lying on the sea of black sheets, with her hands and legs cuffed to the bed posts. Her endearing kohl eyes won’t stop glaring at me, and she is chewing her lips like she wants to bite me instead.

“Have you learned your lesson?” I want her to admit to it so I can take care of her as I intended. I want to. I have put her through something tough, and I ache to balance my actions.

“Go to hell,” she exclaims and tilts her head so she is staring at my reflection through the mirror beside her.

“Suit yourself.” Damn, I hate her willfulness, but I have to live up to it.

“See you by morning,” she smirks.

I gulp, hating that I have to do this but knowing I must. I just handfed her and even that came with cussing and tantrums. I turn away from her and strut out of the bedroom, leaving the air thick with all the things I want to do to her. I slam the door behind me, but I stay planted beside it.

I know she is obstinate. But I cannot shake the fact that she does need me. That she might call for me and the last thing I want is for her to feel abandoned when she does.

I dip my hands in my pockets and lean gently on the door. Waiting. She has to call me. I want her to choose to be in my arms rather than cuffed all night to a bed. But a part of me wonders if she would prefer that.

I exhale sharply, and my stomach ties into knots, knowing I will stand here for the entire night without Vittoria calling for me. Or does she think I left her alone? Is she scared?

I go closer to the door, and my hand hovers on the doorknob. I retrieve it and shove it back into my pocket. I stop myself from pacing and try to get my mind to think of anything aside from the fact that her perseverance is both a trait I find attractive and, in cases like this, overbearing.

“Emanuele!” She calls out at last. It’s a little muffled, but I know she wants me to hear her.

I swing into action, twisting the doorknob and diving into the bedroom a little too fast.

Her eyes soften as she takes me in, and her lips twitch as if she is fighting to keep words from pouring out of her mouth. I want to ask her if she called me, but instead, I take cautious steps toward her and sit on the bed, never breaking the flow of our eyes.

“Let me go,” it’s more of a plea than anything snarky, “Please,” she adds and gulps.

“Have you learned your lesson?” I reach for a few strands of inky hair plastered on her face and brush them behind her ear. She drops her face to the side of my touch, closing her eyes as she melts, and I start to stroke her cheekbone.

“Yes,” she whispers, “Yes, I have learned my lesson,” my forefinger is lining her cheeks now and going for her lips, “I took my punishment well.”

“I want to take care of you, Vittoria,” I press the back of my forefinger on her lips, and she parts them to take my finger between her teeth. “Will you let me?” I am waiting for her to bite or do something to make all of this difficult, but instead, she sucks, screwing her eyes tighter and inhaling.

“Y…yes,” she gulps, “Yes, please do.”

I draw back, needing to do what is important first. I go from one post to the other, uncuffing her; all the while, her eyes stay shut, and her chest keeps rising and crashing as she breathes heavily and shakily. I trace my fingers along the bruise from her fighting when I uncuff her wrists.

“Done,” I announce. I turn to return to my initial position, and as I sit, she is up and crawling to me. She is so quick I almost get knocked off the bed. She wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my neck.

“I learned my lesson,” she pushes herself into me, “hold me.” She circles her arms in a way that allows her to hook her hand on my shoulder blade.

“Of course, baby girl,” I sheathe her, lifting her off the bed until she is sitting on my lap.

She is so small yet so full of will. So breakable in appearance but steel all the same.

One hand cups the back of her head while the other starts to draw lines down her spine, tracing ridges that I am beginning to memorize. She keeps pushing into me and breathing heavily into my neck. Warm breaths slipping into my pores and gathering in my loins. My perfect girl. But I want it to be her night. I want to give her what she needs.

She probably senses that as she lifts her face to look me in the eyes. Up close like this, her eyes are the same, if not darker, than her hair. They are innocent and pleading as they drop to my lips, and she drags in another long breath, hollowing her neck dip. Before she lifts them back up to plead again for a kiss, I plaster my lips to hers.

She exhales into my mouth and pinches down on my shoulder blades, pressing her body in a way that suggests she wants to crawl into my skin. Like the arms I now have around her are not enough.

My tongue searches her mouth, and she suckles, pouring her moan into me. I reach for the base, wanting to feel the vibration of every syllable that my tongue won’t allow her to utter.

Her mouth is warm, soft, and wet. It reminds me of her pussy but without the salty taste. And now it is what I want. What I crave.

I slow the kiss but don’t stop as I lower her on the bed. As she lays flat on the mattress, I break the kiss. Eyes glossy and face heated. My eyes drop to her swollen lips, and she inhales like they burn. I am wondering how swollen her pussy is right now. I’m picturing pink tenderness oiled for me. It makes my cock tick, but I ignore it. This is for her.

“Open up,” I order, and she opens her legs, blessing my sight with her pink, wet, creamy pussy. I growl, biting down on my teeth to wrap an invisible leash of restraint around my neck, “I want to eat you up. I want to have you for dessert.” She responds with a sharp intake of air. “Tonight, I want to feel your thighs squeeze my head as you orgasm into my face,” my forefinger begins to drag from her knee to her inner thigh. Her legs start to shake visibly, and she swallows nervously, her entire body trembling under me .

I trace my finger until it reaches the lips of her pussy, and I swirl it on her clit.

“Oh, God,” she breathes.

“It’s me, not God,” I swirl my finger again.

“Emanuele,” she scrapes her nails on the sheets, wanting to grab something.

“You have one duty tonight, baby girl,” I slip my forefinger in and pull it out, “I will do the work, you just come on my tongue,” and without wasting time, I signal for her to go further up on the mattress.

As soon as she is in the position I want her, I lower myself and bury my face between her legs.

“Oh,” she is breathless, and I feel her pussy contract against my lips. I kiss her there. Then I start to brush her clit with my beard in teasing circular strokes. “Oh,” her legs quaver, mirroring her voice.

With both hands gripping her thighs to keep them apart, I let my tongue out. Swiping and circling. Sucking and tenderly grating. It’s satisfying and gratifying. To render this service to her and just have her take it the way she is taking it now. It’s taking me everything not to come in my pants. Which is definitely going to happen if we keep going like this.

I slide my tongue into her pussy, digging deeper. She tastes good. She smells good. She feels good.

She moans loudly, and her hand comes to grip my hair, while the other keeps scratching the bed sheet.

“Yes,” she groans, “Daddy, yes,” she twists her hips, fucking my tongue.

I pull it out and continue to swipe and circle from her slit to her clit, narrowing my mouth to suck, then rinse and repeat. This time firmer, and it’s partly because of the way she is pulling my hair and how she is now twisting and grinding against my tongue.

With one hand, I let go of her leg and go palm her pussy. I use my fingers to open her fold, and because I know the pain is as necessary as the pleasure for her, I nib, then suck hard on her clit.

It’s her undoing.

She screams, rocking into me faster, and then I feel her quivering with each swinging move. Her body is thrumming, and she is screaming now. Her grip on my hair turns feral. I keep sucking as she rocks herself to climax. Convulsing and sputtering.

Her hips lift from the mattress, locking my head between her legs with her thighs, and then she crashes back into it. I savor her cum, cleaning her deliciousness up. My sweet baby girl.

She lets go of my hair, and I rip my face from her pussy to stare at her. She smiles faintly, then covers her face with both her palms. It’s the first time I’ve seen her shy, and it is… adorable.

“Thank you,” she mumbles into her hands, and I can’t keep my smile in.

“Come here.” She turns to the side instead and then presses her face into the mattress, “Am I the first guy to ever eat your pussy, baby girl?” Some animalistic and possessive part of me wants me to be.

“Yes,” she exhales, then crawls to me, but not to sit on my lap. She drops her head on my lap instead and circles her arms around my waist, “Don’t flatter yourself, although you were not so bad.”

I chuckle.

Her sassiness is so damn attractive.

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In Dark Mafia Romance, do you prefer lighter (with more humor and romcom vibes) or darker (with darker themes and scenes like murder, torture and SA) stories? *

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Luca

Two months later

Never in the world has a woman looked more stunningly beautiful than my bride does tonight.

My bride.

Wife.

Katya Levine is my wife. She’s declared to the whole world that I am the one that she wants to spend the rest of her years with and I could not possibly want it any other way. I’m so happy that I could sing it to the entire world. I’m sorely tempted to. I would, actually, if it weren’t for the fact that Katya has explicitly told me that I’m not allowed to do anything of the sort.

My stunning new bride spins around the dance floor as if she’s moving on clouds.

The veil that she was married in is pinned up closer to her head and the elaborate updo that she picked for the evening. The strapless gown that she chose for today takes my breath away each and every time I allow myself to look at it for too long. The smile that she’s has plastered across her face has the very same effect on me but I will happily indulge.

She’s pinned the bulk of her skirt up in the back so that she can dance and I’m rewarded with brief, intimate flashes of her shapely legs every time she twirls just a little too far.

“Do you know how impressive I find you?” I ask her as she spins in closer to me. Her back pressed as much against my chest as her dress will allow.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Katya grins as I spin her away and back again.

“Moving so easily in your… condition.” I wink as she moves out once more.

The music is so loud at our reception that the only time she can hear me speak at all is when I pull her in close to my chest and growl my words into her ear.

Though, I might like it better like this. It means that I get to see the furiously red blush blossom across her cheeks and there’s nothing that she can do to stop me teasing her every chance that I get.

“Stop it!” Katya practically begs as we move closer once more. “Somebody will hear you and get the wrong impression!”

“What, that you’re pregnant?” I shake my head. “Not yet. But who cares if they do?”

That only makes her blush deepen.

“Seriously.” I commend her. “You’ve been such a good girl so far this evening, I don’t think that anybody has any idea what you’re wearing for me under that dress of yours. Can you feel it every time you move?”

I can see her gritting her teeth. No doubt she doesn’t want to talk about it here. But I’m also willing to bet that she’s so turned on her thighs are coated with her wetness right now as well.

“I’m… getting used to it.”

“Then next time, we will have to get you something with a little more weight.” I tease.

I love watching the way her pupils dilate and her eyes widen at my words. I bet she’s picturing it right now. I hope she is. She had been nearly filled with outrage when I told her that she wasn’t allowed to wear anything underneath of her wedding dress apart from my one, special little item. She had balked and thrown a fit but a few minutes of convincing her with my tongue between her legs and she had caved. Had let me put it on her without so much of a fuss.

The plug was something new for her, she said. But if she was going to promise her life and body to me – I wanted to be able to have all of her body. Every inch and every hole would belong to me. What better night to claim her fully than tonight?

“Somebody is going to know if you don’t stop talking about it!” Katya pushes against my chest like that’s going to do anything but encourage me further.

“Oh, that’s how you want to play it?” I answer and slip my hand into my pocket. She realizes the error of her ways a moment too late when my fingers close around the small remote that controls the vibrating underwear that she’s wearing.

Katya’s knees clamp shut and she nearly falters in her dance step as she whimpers with the sudden pleasure now vibrating against her clit. Her grip is like iron on my bicep as she fights to regain composure and starts to dance once more. Albeit a little less graceful than she had been before.

“Do you think that you will be able to keep them on all night for me, my love?” I whisper into her ear.

She doesn’t answer, but the defiant fire in her eyes lets me know that she’s going to power through. She doesn’t want to lose our little game. She wants me to claim her just as much as I do.

“Or, would a better question be – do you think you’re going to make it all night?” I tilt my head to the side in silent question. I push the button on the panties once more and her knees go weak. She bites down on her bottom lip and I pull her into my chest as the song mercifully shifts into a slow dance. I support her weight with an arm banded around her waist and carry the pair of us through the dance as I know the vibrations are relentless between her legs. No doubt it’s worse every time that I force her to move through the motions of the dance.

I wonder how close she is.

I need to feel her. I want to see her come undone.

Just when her eyes threaten to roll back in her head in front of all of our guests, I turn the panties off. A light sheen of sweat covers her forehead as she glares up at me.

Just to be a shit, I turn them back on full force for five seconds, and then off again.

“Something you need, my love?” I ask her with a saccharine smile.

“Take me somewhere. Now.” she demands.

“So needy.” I click my tongue in admonishment.

“Please. Sir. Take me out of here.” She requests, catching herself.

“I think you can take it a little longer.” I turn the panties on low, just enough to make her miserable with the sensation she can do nothing about as I take a step away from her. “Hmm, I think that I need a drink.”

I know good and damned well that it’s going to be hard for her to walk after me without being noticeable. She closes the distance between us anyway. She’s trying her damned best.

I turn them up a notch again. I swear I can see her nipples through her gown and her thighs clenching together.

“Unless you want to be a good girl, and beg?” I whisper so that only she can hear. My lips brush ever so softly down the column of her neck as I speak.

Full of fire and spark, she glares at me. “Please, Luca, take me out of here… now… please.”

I grin ear to ear and turn the panties up as high as they will go before taking her hand in mind and heading right off of the dance floor. It’s our wedding, after all, we can do whatever we want.

***

Katya

Faster. Faster. Faster.

I can’t walk for much longer. There’s just no way that he can expect me to keep up with him in these conditions. The moment that we are out of the main hall of the venue, Luca turns and scoops me right up and flings me over his shoulder, but he doesn’t turn the damned underwear down for a second. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. I don’t think that I’m going to be able to take it much longer.

I clench my thighs together tightly as my fists ball into the fabric of his jacket. I’m sorely tempted to bite him for good measure just because I can’t take this much longer.

A moan slips out of my lips before I can stop it.

Luca carries us into the first bathroom that he sees and puts me down on the counter at the exact same moment that he manages to turn off the underwear. The abrupt sensations are so sudden and unexpected it’s almost too much.

“Such a good girl for me.” Luca praises me as he kisses down the side of my neck toward my clavicle. “Should we see if you’re just as wet for me as I think that you are?”

If he doesn’t move quickly enough I’m going to grab him by the hair and show my husband exactly where I want his attention. “If you want more begging then I-

“Will give me exactly what I want?” Luca teases with that damned insufferable smirk right before his teeth brush over my skin. I readily arch into the contact. I need friction between my legs. Something. Anything.

“If you insist on flapping your mouth, at least put it to good use.” I beg.

“So needy you are, wife.” Luca breathes into my skin. His hands drop to my legs and start to gather up the fabric of my skirt. I’m only too happy to help him in the process.

“Say it again.” I breathe. Oxygen is harder to come by when he’s speaking to me in that tone of voice.

“Which part, my love?” He sinks to one knee in front of me and my heart flips happily in my chest. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that either and I love it. I love seeing him on his knees for me.

“Where you called me your wife.”

Luca laughs. Laughs at me. I swat at his shoulder and he catches my hand. “Careful now, wife, or I shall stop being so generous. We don’t want that, do we?”

His thumbs massage circles up my inner thighs. He finally reaches the panties and curls his fingers around them slowly. It’s torture how slowly he pulls them off of me. I think they are the first pair of panties that I’ve worn in the last month because Luca doesn’t like having anything to bar his access to me when the mood strikes. I’ve gotten so used to not having them there that the extra fabric is too much contact with my overheated, overly sensitive skin.

“Lift your hips for me, wife.” Luca commands.

I move to obey without even thinking. My hands curl around the lip of the bathroom counter and I lift my hips up so that he can pull my panties down.

Luca groans. “Exactly as wet as I thought you were.”

Every movement that I make causes me to be more aware of the shiny metal plug in my ass. The only thing that had distracted me from it was the vibration of the panties and that’s gone now. I’m overly aware of it as Luca no doubt catches glimpse of the jewel the moment that the panties are off of me. I hear them hit the floor but I don’t care.

I hook my legs around Luca’s shoulders and urge him closer before he has the chance to change his mind. I don’t want any more sass from him. He chuckles darkly as he kisses every bit of my exposed skin except for where I want him to be the most. I think he’s trying to kill me.

“Luca!” I plead, his word barely more than a moan on my lips as I lean back against the counter and attempt to grind my pelvis against his face.

Luca takes hold of my thighs and holds me down. He keeps me from moving any more than he wants me to and only then, when I’m helpless in his hands, does his mouth make contact.

A slow savor at first. A man presented with a rare delicacy that he doesn’t want to waste a moment of as he licks and kisses me. His tongue delving deeper, savoring the taste of my wetness on his tongue with a groan of appreciation.

I’m going to come apart at the seams. Literally. I try to move but he’s relentless, never giving my swollen clit any more attention than he deems necessary until I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Only when I’m shuddering, my legs trembling around his shoulders does he show me even the slightest bit of mercy.

His tongue flattens. No more teasing, light touches but something harder as his fingers find my center and slip inside. They curl expertly to the place that makes me see stars.

“More?” Luca asks. I’m nowhere near capable of answering him, but he knows that. “I think you can take more. That’s my good girl.” He adds a third finger. The stretch isn’t anywhere near the way that his cock would fill me but it’s getting me ready for what I know is coming. What I get to have all to myself for the rest of my life. My head falls back and hits the mirror softly. I can’t even bring myself to care about the dull ache in the back of my head as my core clenches.

“Luca – I- I’m-” I try to get the words out, but the moment that I’m about to head over that precipice… he stops. I think I might actually cry.

My body plummets down so quickly I cannot keep up. “No!” I sob. I’m only half aware of Luca moving to stand and then he’s moving me. He pulls me off of the counter and spins me to face the mirror. I don’t trust myself to stand on such shaky legs. He props one of my knees up on the counter and pushes between my shoulders to bend me forward and arch my ass out toward me.

My stomach clenches. I know what’s coming next. I’m not ready. I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be. I’m so turned on – my nerves are like live wires and I cannot think of anything other than how badly I need his cock in me.

A rustle of fabric and I feel him. He grabs the plug from my ass and pulls it out slowly. I hear the metal clatter on the countertop somewhere beside me but all I can focus on is him spreading my wetness back over my hole – and then there he is. Lubricated with his precum and my own cream as he eases into me.

It’s wrong. It’s intrusive and painful and I’ve never felt so full in my whole life.

My face presses into the cold glass of the mirror in front of me. My hand slides down the reflective surface as I will myself to exhale. Slowly he eases inside of my ass, taking and claiming and owning that final part of me that I’ve never given to anybody else before. Something that is only Luca’s and always will be.

His moan shudders through my bones as he sinks further until there’s nothing left. His hand wraps under my thigh, finding my clit and arching me back to his hips as he starts to move – and in seconds I combust. My orgasm had been delayed too long as it was and I can’t fight it off any longer. I don’t want to. It’s blended with the whole new sensations on my end and it just goes, and goes. A climb without a peak.

I cease to exist. I am only pleasure and lightning zaps of sensation and ripples of pain as my body acclimates to him. The sounds that come out of me are hardly human but I have given up caring what any of the guests at my wedding might or might not hear.

My eyes roll up so that I can see Luca’s reflection in the mirror behind me. His hands wrapped around my hip and under my leg as he fucks me. His tie thrown over his shoulder. I don’t even know when he took his jacket off and I don’t care. I can see the strain of his muscles against his shirt and damn if I hadn’t just cum once… not that the second is far off with the way my legs are trembling.

I’m sinking. My bones are turning to molten lava and replacing whatever shape that I might have been before with the one that Luca turns me into. His perfect assault on my clit carries me through one orgasm and straight into another. I think I might black out for a moment. Just a moment. Then he’s filling me. With a groan that I would have swallowed could I have had the ability of kissing him right now. He pumps deep into my ass before stilling. Only then does he give my clit mercy and stop. I can’t tell if I want more or if I want a nap.

I feel the cold of the plug going back to my ass and pushing in almost too easily as I close back around it – sealing the gift that Luca gave me just now deep inside.

He helps me with my dress and picks me back up to sit on the countertop. His hands brush the now sweaty loose strands of my updo back and away from my face before pulling me forward to kiss him. I open my mouth to him, accepting his tongue to dance against mine as he pulls me close into his chest.

“I love you, Katya.” Luca breathes into my lips between kisses. He pauses to press his forehead against mine. “From now until my dying day.”

I can’t stop smiling. I kiss him softly and let him pull me into a strong, comforting embrace. “I love you too.”

I can feel his heart beating against my breasts. It feels like home. Whatever the future has in store for us, Luca will always be my home from this moment forward.

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Mary 

A year and a half. That’s how long our engagement lasted, and as of today it was finally over. All the planning and worrying, the guest list and invitations, the catering, the music—it had all taken so much out of me, but I already couldn’t remember any of it, and the reception wasn’t even over. No, the only thing I had eyes for was my husband. 

My husband. 

I smiled at him giddily, and he caught me looking and chuckled. “Another dance, baby girl?” 

“Yes please!” 

The slow, romantic music had long ago been put away for the night, so instead we improvised a sort of bastardized swing dance as a pop song jazz remix played. I beamed. 

I felt perfect, and from the look in Sal’s eyes, he thought so too. Not that I ever doubted that anymore. 

We’d come so far. I loved him completely. 

He looked over my shoulder and smiled mischievously, turning me around so I could see what he did. 

Specifically, my best friend… flirting. 

My heart soared. 

She’d never get over Nicola, never stop loving him, but she was healing. Though she looked very flustered when Flavio finally broke his stoic work persona to flirt back. I chuckled. 

“Since when was your best man such a charmer?” I teased him. “If he sweeps Lucy off her feet, I’ll have to file a complaint.” Sal smirked. 

“Yeah, for what?” 

“Dunno, something HR,” I shrugged, too overjoyed to bother putting together an actual response. Sal laughed. 

“Tipsy,” he accused. I stuck out my tongue at him, as if we didn’t both know I only ever did that when I’d been drinking. 

“Not so tipsy I’d miss my brother pretending he’s not head over heels,” I smirked. Sal snorted. 

Sure enough, there was Pietro, stuck close to Taylor—also an illegitimate child, technically also a Pellico, but she had been Cristiano’s wife’s affair baby from before they met. In other words, they were unrelated. And he’d been following her around like a duckling from the day Nicola introduced them, apparently. 

I knew there was something going on there, but I’d let Pietro decide when to say something. 

Mom was also next to Pietro, chatting to Taylor easily. I hadn’t realized the two women had gotten that close. 

“When do you think they’re going to admit it?” Sal asked. 

“What, to us or to themselves?” 

“Both.” 

I laughed. 

“You know,” Sal said, grinning, “I think enough people have left that we can get out of here ourselves.” I perked up. 

“Yes please!” I said. “I mean, as incredible as this moment is, my feet are killing me and also I really want you in me, like, yesterday.” 

Sal barked out a laugh, looking around to make sure no one had heard me. As if he hadn’t made me to take off my underwear in a crowded club the first time we had met. 

“Oh my god, you are tipsy. Well, I’ll tell you what, since I’m such a loving husband, I’m going to give you to the count of 100 to make it to the restroom.” I looked up at him in confusion. Why the restroom? Was he saying he’d follow me or did he just… want me to go to the restroom? “100, 99, 98…” 

Then he gave me a predatory grin, and I realized what he was doing. Giddily excited, I grabbed my skirts and started running. 

Salvatore 

“73, 72…” I counted to myself, swiveling my head to make sure I kept my eyes on my wife. 

Holy shit, my wife. 

I wondered how long it would take me to get used to saying that. 

“69, 68, 67, 66… Finally.” 

If Mary thought I was going to give her a full count of 100 she was very, very wrong. 

I couldn’t wait that long tonight, and if I had to guess, neither could she. 

So, the second I saw the restroom door swing shut I bolted down the hallway toward it, grinning like a madman. 

Mary was already gathering her skirts up at her waist when I burst in, and she squealed with laughter as I pounced on her, barely remembering to lock the door. 

This was a long hallway, and the music was loud. 

The last thing I needed was my newly minted mother-in-law -who did not like me very much as of yet- walking in on me consummating my marriage to her daughter in an event hall bathroom. 

“Oh my god you fucking minx,” I gasped, pinning Mary to the wall and helping her get her skirts out of the way. I barely got a glimpse of what was under them but I knew what I’d seen. “You fucking plugged your cunt on our wedding day?” Mary giggled. 

“I didn’t walk down the aisle like this,” she defended. 

“No, just danced surrounded by our family and friends for two hours. Fuck.” 

“I just wanted to be ready for you, Sir,” she said, entirely too innocently. I growled. 

“Well let’s hope you did a good enough job.” 

I couldn’t see anything with the dress blocking the view, but it wasn’t hard for me to find the flared base of the plug and pull. 

It came out with a wet sucking noise and I groaned. “You’re already so wet,” I panted, frantically pulling my cock out of my zipper. 

“Well, I have been dancing with this in for two hours…” she said, throwing my words back at me. 

I growled and slammed myself into her. She yelped. 

“Be a good girl and stay quiet,” I hugged, setting a brutal pace immediately. She’d prepped herself well, walls soft and giving around my cock as I fucked her. I could feel her cunt fluttering, my little pseudo-exhibitionist. “You can be a good girl, right?” 

“Yes Sir,” she said, eyes darkening as I watched. 

“Mmmm, good bunny,” I groaned, my balls slapping against her cunt viciously. “My sweet little wife. Fuck. You’re already so close, huh? I can feel you pulsing honey, you’ve been teasing yourself all night with that thing, haven’t you?” 

“U-uh-huh,” Mary gasped, openmouthed. 

“You think you get to come?” I asked, reaching between us as well as I could to pinch her clit. She squealed. “You stuff yourself full of some fucking silicone and think I’m gonna let you cum?” 

“Please,” she whined, meeting my thrusts. “Please let me come Sir, I wanna come for you. Wanna squirt on your cock on our wedding night.” 

We’d only just recently found out she could squirt, and we’d only made it happen a few times. 

Hearing those words, arousal stabbed through me—yeah, no, we wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. 

“Hold it,” I ordered harshly. “Good girls don’t come until I say so.” 

Mary’s lower lip wobbled, and I felt her tighten her pelvic muscles in an attempt to stave off her rising orgasm. Good. 

That additional tightness, that nearly bruising squeeze, was exactly what I was looking for. “Aw, don’t cry, baby, you’re gonna ruin your makeup—fuck—” 

“Come in me,” Mary chanted. “Come in me, come in me, come in me—” 

“Yeah? You wanna walk out of your own wedding with my cum sliding down your leg?” I grunted, already racing towards the finish line. Well, my finish line, anyway. “You nasty slut.” 

Mary whimpered. I fucking loved her degradation kink, almost as much as I loved her praise kink. I didn’t love either of them as much as I loved her, though. “Alright then, you get what you want. Gonna fill you up, cum in your slutty pussy, you fil-ilth-y—” 

I choked myself off with a groan, hunching into her as I kept my word. 

Mary wasn’t satisfied, still right on the edge of her own orgasm, but when she started trying to move her own hips I pulled out and slapped her cunt hard in punishment. She cried out. 

“I don’t fucking think so,” I growled. “I told you not to come, and you’re not going to.” Mary looked at me with wide, watery eyes, and I grinned meanly. I was going to ruin her. “You have until the count of a hundred to get to the car, or I’ll fuck you right on the ground in front of our guests.” Mary’s eyes turned almost completely black. 

“100, 99, 98…” 

She took off running, and my smile was all teeth. 

Mary 

One week later 

“Excuse me, Mrs. Mastro?” a familiar voice drawled, and I sat up straight at my desk with an excited gasp. 

“Sal!” I said, rubbing my sore eyes. Staring at a computer screen for hours could really do a number on the vision sometimes. “What are you doing here?” 

“Brought you food,” he smirked, lifting up a white take-out bag. My mouth watered. 

“Oh my god, Gorditino’s?” 

“You know it,” Sal said, placing the food right in front of me on my desk. “It’s almost midnight, bunny. It’s time to come home.” 

Stunned, I looked at the time. It was, in fact, almost the next day. “I’m sorry,” I grimaced apologetically. “I broke a rule.” 

“And I’ll punish you for it, once the issue is out and you can take a day off. Right now, I want us to eat.” I frowned at the small bag. 

“Did you order enough for two?” I asked. Sal smirked and sunk down to his knees, and my heartrate spiked. Oh, he wasn’t planning on eating food. 

“Good thing I wore a skirt,” I breathed, parting my legs eagerly for my husband’s searching mouth. 

Mary Mastro, I thought to myself, you are on top of the world. 

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Sara 

Seven years later 

 “Sara, what are you doing here?” Lia asked in alarm, throwing open the door to her home and ushering me in. She blinked in confusion, her hair a mess, and gazed out into the night. “And in the pouring rain? Did you miss your flight? Or did it get cancelled because of this bizarro weather?” 

“Yes—I…” I stepped in, shivering and shaking, pushing back my hood and aware I was dripping all over Lia’s front hall. “I’m sorry, I just…” 

“Don’t apologize,” Lia said and took my jacket, then told me to leave my bag, and take off my shoes.  

I obeyed in robotic motions, hands shaking, and followed her into the kitchen, where their dog Fenway came galloping up to me, wagging and sniffing. I sank my hands into his soft fur and tried not to weep at the comfort. Nor at how bright my engagement ring was against Fenway’s lovely fur. 

“Are you okay?” Lia said and gestured at me to sit. I did, and let Fenway put his heavy head in my lap. She set a glass of water in front of me and then bustled to the kettle, then back. She was still so golden, so gorgeous, and even two kids or being woken up at two in the morning by her crazy friend couldn’t dampen that. “Did something happen?” 

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out and burst into tears.  

Lia made a soft, shocked sound and moved closer, her hands, warm and soft, wrapping around mine. I had my other hand pressed against my face as I let out choked sobs, and Fenway made a nervous, whining sound in his throat. 

“I need you to fill in the blanks, Sara,” Lia said. “What am I missing—you and Danny—” 

“Aren’t even married yet,” I burst out and stood up, startling Fenway and Lia. I was irrational and angry, hormones and exhaustion churning through me. “Six years we’ve been engaged, and I get it—so many things happened. The company took off, Danny had to spend half a year in Germany, and I was overseas, and we put it off so that his cousin… Luca…” I swallowed hard. “We wanted Luca to be there, and everyone, and then all that shit happened with Kir, and the guys had to help…” 

I walked to the glass door, arms wrapped around myself, and stared out into the dark yard, my reflection almost swallowed up by the rain and shadow. How had it been so long? How could we have kept putting it off?  

“Sara,” Lia said gently. “Danny wants to marry you—more than anything.” 

My entire body seemed to convulse, fear and nerves snarling through me. Danny hadn’t brought it up in months. Sometimes my ring seemed to mock me, and we were coming up on our anniversary, and he’d said nothing. He seemed so worn, so tired, and worried about Luca, back stateside and raising hell in Boston. Things with Kir were calm and happy, at least. And of course, Ty and Lia were safe and snug with their little family here. 

“I just…” I placed a hand on the glass and my ring glimmered. “I wonder if I was the first bit of normalcy he had and it was good enough to get him out of it, but maybe it’s not enough to move forward. And now.” I pressed a hand over my stomach. “Why am I so terrified?” 

Lia got up and moved closer. “Terrified of what?” A sob burst out of me, and Lia hugged me from behind, rocking me. “Sara, Sara, you’re scaring me. This isn’t you.” 

“I—no, you’ll hate me,” I whispered. 

“I could never,” Lia said fiercely and turned me around with surprising strength. “The woman who faced down the mob to try and get her friend back? You tell me right now.” 

“I’m terrified if I tell Danny that I’m carrying his child—he’ll run,” I said, and a sob burst out of me. “I’m terrified I’ll never see him again. I—I don’t know what to do.” I shivered and shook in her arms. “I don’t know what to do. He hasn’t mentioned marriage in months. He seems so tired, so worn.” 

“Oh, Sara, no,” Lia whispered. She ran a hand over my hair and squeezed me closer. “It’s okay, I promise it’s okay.” 

“I—I just need a few days,” I said. “Can I stay here?” 

Lia leaned back and gazed at me, her eyes crinkling up. “Of course. Stay as long as you need. But you should—” 

“I will,” I fibbed. “I already sent him a message and said I had to stay longer.” 

It didn’t matter, because Danny was overseas, and probably would give my message a passing glance—if that. 

Somehow, we’d been missing each other often these past months. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d been at our apartment together. 

“Sara,” Lia warned, but then she sighed and nodded. “Come on. Let’s get you out of these clothes and into bed.” We turned and both jumped, as Ty was standing there, his eyes wide and a hand pressed to his heart. “Oh, Ty—Sara is going to stay here a few days, she’s…” Lia was babbling but Ty was zeroed in on me and tears glimmered in his eyes. 

Before she could say another word, he’d crossed the kitchen and pulled us into a bear hug, causing us both to squawk and Ty to squeeze us tighter. 

“Of course,” he said gruffly. “Sara can stay as long as she wants.” 

When he pulled away, his eyes told me that he knew, but the dip of his chin said that he wouldn’t say a word. 

I gave him a look of thanks and Lia led me to bed. 

*** 

A week later, I was sitting with Mario and Rina in the yard, a lovely, warm breeze stirring my hair, and clouds racing overhead. The rains had finally let up the day before and the yard had dried out enough to venture outside. It had been a bad storm, wreaking havoc on airlines, and even I’d wanted to leave, I couldn’t.  

Privately, I appreciated mother nature looking out for another mother. A buzz went through me, a surreal dizziness, part terror, part excitement, and I pressed a hand to my stomach, still unable to believe it. 

I’d been extra fatigued these past few months, but I’d chalked it up to travel and work. But no, I was three months pregnant, which was the last time that Danny and I had been together, a lovely night in our apartment where he’d been extra attentive, as though to make up for all the travel he’d have to do over the next month, which had turned into three months. 

Mario was singing and running in the yard, already getting too big at almost eight, while Marina, or “Rina,” was still a bit puppy-ish at six and a half. Still, something in my throat ached at how fast they’d grown, how much I wished that we were closer, even if we were on the same coast. 

I settled on the blanket, smoothing my hands over the warm fabric, and let out an oof as Rina tackled me with a hug from behind. She laughed as I tipped over my shoulder and tickled her belly, causing her to shriek with laughter, golden hair flying everywhere. Fenway and Mario came loping over seconds later, and then the kids were lying on their stomachs, chattering, and drawing in their sketch books. 

“I want to make something for Uncle Danny,” Mario declared. “Do you think he’d like this?” He showed me a clumsy, lovely kiddish, and yet clear sketch of—me sitting in the yard, face tipped up to the sun, and I caught my breath. How could this kid be so insanely talented already? I mean, besides his mother and father, of course. 

“I think so,” I said. 

“Good, I’ll show Mommy, too, to make sure,” Mario said and took off, sketchbook flapping under his arm. I watched him go, my heart singing at how much he moved like Lia, for all that he looked like Ty. 

What will our child look like? Dark hair and green eyes? Or reversed? Or more like me, but act like Danny—” 

“I want to make something for Uncle Danny, too,” Rina said.  

“I’m sure he’d like that,” I said. 

“I miss him.” 

“I miss him, too, Ri,” I said and smoothed my hand over her hair. She snuggled closer and then dropped her book, getting up and throwing herself around me. I embraced her little limbs and then looked her in the face, noting her pout. “What’s wrong?” 

“You’re sad,” she said. “And Uncle Danny isn’t here. So, I called him.” 

My entire body froze up as I stared at her. Her guileless dark eyes. “You—you what?” 

“I heard Mommy and Daddy talking, and Daddy wanted to call, but they didn’t want to make you mad,” Rina said with terrifying and precise insight, as though channeling her grandmother and father at the same time. “And something about the baby.”  

She shrugged as I stared at her and slowly got to my knees, my head spinning. 

“What—when did you call, Ri?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.  

Then I sucked in a deep breath and put a hand to my head. I was pretty tired and out of it. Maybe I’d misunderstood. Maybe she hadn’t called. Maybe I hadn’t been sold out by a six-year-old. 

“Um, I don’t ‘memba,” Rina said, focused on her sketchbook again. 

“Honey,” I said in a whisper and put a hand on her back. “What did you say?” 

“I said—” She looked up at me and then glanced back, and her entire face lit up. “Uncle Danny.” She rocketed to her feet as I almost fell over, still on my knees, and a hand gripping my shirt over my stomach.  

I watched as a dark-haired six-year-old careened into her golden-haired uncle, his face creased with exhaustion, his clothes wrinkled, and a beard covering his face. His entire look haggard enough to make Rina wrinkle her nose and yet still hug him around the neck, giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek. She babbled at him as I watched and my heart seemed to give out in my chest, a sob fighting to get free. 

You’d make such a good Dad, I’d told him once, in this very yard, when Marina had been a baby and colicky, and Danny had infinite patience for his little niece. We’d briefly moved down here for a month, helping out with Mario while Lia recovered. Danny had ducked his head and flushed, giving me such a soft look of gratitude, as though unable to say a word. 

Now, he murmured something to Marina and set her down, and she went skipping into the house. For a moment, he stood there, hands in his pockets, his face as cool and unreadable as the first time I’d laid eyes on him. I scrambled up, my face turning red, and guilt snarling in my chest. How could I have not told him? God, I was a monster, and not acting like an adult—not being a good partner to this man who’d done everything short of selling his soul to try and make things right. From Kir to therapy to the business—Danny had tried to keep me happy. 

And in trying to be the man that I’d seen in him, he’d become so much more. 

Someone who came even when I tried to push him away, when I got scared and ran.  

Now, I took a step forward, a hand lifting, and Danny’s eyes seemed to burn, then he was charging across the yard and pulling me against him, gentle but unbreakable. Tears rolled free and I pressed my face against his shoulder, shaking and trying to apologize. 

“I guess there’s a first for everything,” he murmured into my ear, and I leaned back. He caught my chin with one hand and gave me a stern look that made my knees go week, while his other hand pressed into my back, not letting me go. 

“What?” I whispered. 

“You’ve never been more wrong, wife,” Danny said, and he gazed at me, and I realized that he wasn’t exhausted from work—he was exhausted from rushing across the world to get to Malibu thanks to his six-year-old niece’s meddling—he’d killed himself to get here, to me. 

Tears blurred my sight and Danny kissed me, savage and possessive, but also sweet and loving. I didn’t know how he did it. But I knew that he knew—and that he was right, I’d never been more wrong. 

“But—but,” I blubbered as we broke apart and Danny wrapped his arms around me again, rocking me. “But you…” 

“I wanted to get all this shit with work settled, and then surprise you… Or ask you.” I leaned back to look at him, which was a bit difficult because Danny didn’t seem inclined to let me go. “Aw fuck it—wanna move to Malibu?” 

I clutched at him. “What?” 

“Sara, we can’t keep busting our asses for this company. I think we need a break, to rethink things. Things are good. We can step back, let our competent staff handle stuff.” He cradled my face. “I didn’t know how to ask you to slow down, though. I didn’t want you to think I thought you couldn’t hack it. So, I thought maybe a house here might help sell it.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d…”  

“Didn’t—huh?” 

“Oh, Sara,” Danny breathed. “Baby, I’d marry you today if I could. I had this whole idea of getting the house built, then proposing we have the wedding there…” He stepped back and looked me over. “I don’t care about any of that. All I want to do is be here—for you, for… the future.” 

I closed my eyes and laughter bubbled up, amidst the tears. “Did Marina tell you?” 

“No, I didn’t know what she meant, but I owe her forever. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she knew that.” He laughed and my entire heart lit up at the sound. “I thought she meant Lia until I saw you,” Danny said hoarsely and suddenly I heard a noise and looked down in time to see Danny had gone to his knees before he wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his face into my stomach. “I just saw you and knew.” 

“Of course,” I said and tugged on his hair. 

“It knocked the wind out of me—I couldn’t even breathe for a second. I don’t think I heard a word of what Rina said.” He paused and trepidation went through me. “And I also don’t think I’ve been this happy since you said yes,” Danny said. “Or this scared.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me.” 

I gave a hiccupping laugh and leaned down, kissing him, “I’m kind of a hormonal mess. Please don’t take it personally.” I tugged on his hair again. “You’re here.” 

“I’m here,” he said, and his eyes glinted as he stood up. “And I’m not going anywhere, Sara Tailor. You agreed to make an honest man out of me and there’s no way in hell you’re reneging on that.” 

Even though I knew he was kidding, even though I knew that he wanted this, that he loved me, I clutched at him and whispered, “You still want to get married?” 

He swept me against him and tipped me back, “Why, Sara Tailor,” he murmured and kissed me. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Then he straightened me and gave me a serious look. “I can’t think of a better time to marry you than while you’re carrying our child—our future. We’re calling out for the rest of the damn month to make this happen, as quickly as possible.” 

I went up on tiptoes and kissed him. “I think, between me and you, we can make that happen.” I smiled at him, my love, my future husband, the father of our precious child. “Anything is possible with us, through thick and thin, mess—and more mess.” 

“And we’re great with a mess,” Danny agreed with a laugh, and he kissed me again. 

The warm Malibu breeze ruffled around us, carrying the children’s laughter, and our silent promise to each other to always find a way back to each other—no matter what life threw our way.  

After all, we’d done it so many times before, finding that happy ending.  

Together. 

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