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“You hurt Dom’s feelings and need to fix it.” Ciera drops her grip on both of us and crosses her arms as her hip kicks out. It makes her look bossy as fuck and sexy at the same time. I’d typically smirk at that but now isn’t the time or place. My actions did hurt Dom. If I knew the right thing to do or say, I would have done it already.
“Wasn’t the first time I’ve hurt his precious little feelings, kitten. Won’t be the last either.”
Regrettably, the first time was my sophomore year of college, the first time we slept together. Even then, it wasn’t just a fuck. I thought he was an itch I needed to scratch. We’d danced around our attraction to one another for years. I just needed to fuck him in both holes and be done with the desire he invoked in me. And I did fuck him six ways to Sunday that night, but it didn’t satisfy shit.
We fucked each other all night. When I woke up with him in my bed, I panicked. A lot like I did a couple of hours ago. I told him I’d had my fill and that he didn’t even come close to the best lay I’d ever had.
I’m a habitual liar. The fact is, the only person to come close in comparison to Domenico is Ciera. Individually, they fulfill something inside me that I didn’t know I needed or wanted. Together, they make me feel crazy, out of control, and maybe a little bit like a fucking god.
So, definitely crazy.
Lifting my right arm, I snatch his throat between my fingers and squeeze, wanting to bruise his skin the way he enjoys doing to Ciera. And maybe I do too, but Dom is harder to mark than she is with her fair skin versus his deeply tanned flesh.
“We both know how each other feels. You know it,” I snarl, ticked off that he’s making me do this shit.
“No,” he refutes. “We know howIfeel becauseIsaid the words.Itold youI love you, but you turned your nose up at my admission, and then you walked out like I’d puked all over your shoes.”
“I love you too, motherfucker. Jesus. I’ve been in love with you since high school just like our pathetic sisters and their first love bullshit. Are you fucking happy now?”
I yank him forward, smashing his lips into mine as I squeeze his throat harder, demanding he kiss me back instead of giving him time to respond, fearing that he will push me away the same as I did him. It’s what I deserve. It’s what he should do.
It takes him longer than it should have to reciprocate, holding out until his body needs the oxygen I’ve cut off. I release my fingers when he gasps, only to find his waist and pull him closer to my body. His tongue dives into my mouth first, and like the needy bitch he sometimes is, he chases what he knows I can give him. His hand finds the back of my neck, wrapping his long, strong fingers around me, squeezing as he kisses me more brutally than he ever has before.
“You’re ours,” he growls into my mouth, the heat from his breath coating my insides as I pull as much of him into me as I can. The possessiveness in his tone creates goose bumps across my arms and down my spine, making me want to revel in them. “Tell him, Ciera.”
“We’re yours, and you are ours, Krishna.”
Fuck yes.
Shoving me hard, I stumble backward while Domenico pants, his heated, hooded eyes making him look like the predator I know him to be. His chest rises and falls, then while his eyes are on me, he says, “Now suck his dick, pet. Show him who he fucking belongs to. That if he ever leaves us again, it’ll be in a goddamn body bag.”
When she goes to kneel, I snatch her around the waist, yanking her flush with my front. Dipping my head, I look her in the eyes while my lips hover a hair’s breadth from hers. “I love you too, Ciera.” Then I smash my mouth to hers, my tongue diving inside while my heart prays she’s feeling just how much I love them both, while my mind is reeling with more than I can comprehend.
EPILOGUE
CIERA
It upset me when I found out there wasn’t any record of our marriage being filed. Logically, I should have been overjoyed. I was forced to marry Domenico, after all. Even though that’s true, when I think back on it, I don’t think Tony would have made me go through with it if I’d outright refused or asked him not to make me do it.
I was so relieved to be out from under my uncle’s thumb, and away from anyone I shared DNA with that I would have drunk any Kool-Aid the former boss had supplied me with, even if it was poisonous.
Still to this day, I don’t know if it was the police commissioner, my great-uncle’s brother, that had something to do with essentially nullifying our marriage or if Tony botched the wedding on purpose so that if Domenico didn’t want me for a wife, then it would be as if we’d never said vows.
We weren’t really married.
From Krishna’s viewpoint, he was thrilled over that revelation. Me, not so much. I understood why he felt the way he did. With Dom and I married, he felt like the third wheel. And although I had the illusion of being married, I felt like an intruder between them.
Shortly after we all made up earlier this year, Domenico asked K and me to marry him. He explained it wouldn’t be considered a lawful marriage, and after everything, I was okay with that. I finally understood that a piece of paper didn’t represent love and fidelity among a couple, or in our case, a polyamorous relationship.
I didn’t need a man of God or even a judge in a country I’ve yet to fall in love with to declare us married. I didn’t even need a ceremony, but they gave me one anyway.
I only had one request. The wedding had to be after the babies were born. Right before Dom proposed, we discovered I was pregnant with two and thought they were twins. Since twins run in Dom’s family, we believed them to be his, but that wasn’t the case exactly.
Come to find out, my body had released two eggs. Domenico’s sperm fertilized one and Krishna the other. We were shocked, but I fully believe it was a sign that what the three of us have was meant to be. It was a blessing.
The boys were born on September twelfth, sharing a birthday with their late grandfather. We waited thirty-six hours to get the results back from the paternity test to assign them names. Konstantin was born first. He’s technically K’s son and Ariane is Dom’s, but both of my men consider the boys theirs.
That was three and a half months ago. I thought waiting to get married until I wasn’t pregnant would be better. I wouldn’t have any baby weight to contend with, but that didn’t turn into reality. I may not be as heavy as I was at the height of my pregnancy, but I still carry more weight than I like about myself. It doesn’t matter that Domenico and Krishna tell me I’m beautiful daily. I feel this way, and I think it’s perfectly normal not to like everything about oneself.
