Make Me a Sinner – Extended Epilogue
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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Absolutely great from start to finish
Thank you dear! I’m so glad you liked the book!