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"Always," I vowed, drawing him even closer as I cradled his face in my hands. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and it broke my heart to see him so vulnerable. But that was Hassan, always wearing his heart on his sleeve.
He surged into me then, desperate and possessive, as if to prove a point. Everything about this moment felt so right—so perfect—that I couldn't help but tear up. He was mine. Despite everything and everyone else, Hassan belonged to me—and I to him.
The rhythm of our bodies became more frenzied as we chased our release. Our breaths mingled together in the tense silence of the room, each gasp and moan echoing through the otherwise empty space. Each roll of his hips hit that spot within me that made stars burst across my vision, my breath hitching in awe and pleasure.
"Gonna—," Hassan panted, his gaze never leaving mine.
The words died in his throat as a shudder ran through him, his entire body going rigid. My walls tightened around him as I felt the hot rush of his release filling me to the brim. The sensation sent me spiraling over the edge, my own climax washing over me in powerful waves.
"Hassan," I moaned, my body trembling with the force of my orgasm. His name left my lips like a prayer, echoing throughout the room in a breathless plea for him to never stop making me feel this way.
I clung to him tightly as he collapsed against me, his head resting on my shoulder as he took slow, labored breaths. The weight of him pressed into me was oddly comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold night. We stayed like that for several long minutes, our bodies intertwined, basking in the afterglow of our shared passion.
“Justice,” he whispered against my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “I don’t ever want to lose this…us.”
His words struck a chord within me, reflecting my own fears and desires. Despite the chaos that constantly swirled around us, we found our solace in each other—a respite from a world filled with violence and uncertainty.
“You won’t,” I assured him, lifting his chin so he would meet my gaze. The raw vulnerability in his eyes took my breath away. But it was beautiful; it reflected the depth of his feelings for me—feelings I reciprocated entirely. “We won’t. We literally live in the same building. I might become his wife, but nothing about how I feel about you changes."
He looked into my eyes, taking a moment to process my words before a soft smile graced his lips. The tension in his body faded away as he relaxed against me, his hand gently tracing circles on my bare skin.
“Good,” he murmured, “Because I don’t think I could survive without this…without you.”
He planted a soft kiss on my lips then leaned back, resting his forehead against mine. His dark eyes gazed intensely into mine, holding a promise of forever in their depths.
"I love you," I said.
"I love you," he replied. "I'm sorry, I think I messed up your hair a little. But this is how Bash likes you, right? Freshly fucked?"
I laughed, a raw and honest sound that echoed through the room. "Bash isn't the only one," I reminded him, reaching up to rake my fingers through his tousled hair.
He pulled away from me, a smile on his face. "C'mon, doll. Let's get you married."
He took me by the arm and walked me to the door, and it felt like one world was ending and a new one was beginning. Even though I’d told him it wasn’t going to happen…I had this horrible feeling I was losing him.
So I just reminded myself it was his cum dripping down my thighs when I walked down the aisle.
And the panties I’d intended for Bash were in Hassan’s pocket.
Chapter Seventeen: Bash
It turns out that when you fork over enough money, any wedding planner will throw you a lavish, last-minute wedding.
The scene was set, and all our friends were here–mostly people from our operation, friends and family, and even some who had just come to witness the mafia wedding of the year. The aisle was decked out with red roses, the rich aroma of their petals wafting over me, candles lit all around the space.
It was beautiful…but I had no doubt nothing would measure up to my wife-to-be.
I was standing in a crowded church with Zane next to me. As I looked out into the sea of familiar faces, all anxiously awaiting the bride, my heart pounded in my chest. The stained glass windows cast kaleidoscopic shards of colored light onto the wooden pews, and the scent of incense hung heavy in the air.
At the sound of the organ starting to play, all heads turned towards the back of the church. My breath hitched in my throat as I caught sight of Justice. She was resplendent in her wedding dress, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders from a half up-do, her eyes shining even across the aisle.
I couldn't see her that well yet, but I could already feel myself getting choked up.
Then Sebastian waddled in front of her, throwing petals around as Hassan held him by the hand. I watched, entranced, as the pair made their way down the aisle, their bond evident in the protective grip Hassan had over our little boy's hand. Sebastian was looking every bit adorable in his little tux, his innocence bringing a much-needed reprieve to the weight hanging heavily in the air.
I glanced at Zane, his eyes mirroring my emotions. He clenched his jaw as he watched the spectacle before him, his knuckles white as he tightly gripped the edge of the pew. Skylar, standing on my other side, had a handkerchief at the ready, his eyes already wet with unshed tears.
We’d already ribbed him for it–he wasn’t much of a crier–but this was Justice. The woman all four of us loved more than anything else in the world.
