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His breathing is ragged, his gray eyes shading with salacious need. “I love you so fucking much, Bianca. You’re mine. Eternally.”
“In life and death,” I agree.
“Life and death,” he groans, dropping his head to kiss me as he explodes inside me.
epilogue
Vincent
The incandescence of the fireplace warms her face, causing the balls of her cheeks to flush an enticing shade of red. She squints at the flames dancing before us, her mind at ease and her thoughts elsewhere.
The past two months have been stressful for her. Her relationship with Gabriella has grown into one of mutual love and friendship, but my sister has even begun testing Bianca’s last sliver of patience. She complains about ushidingher but fights against the security of a marriage that I know can protect her. It’s not even the fantastical idea of falling in love herself that has her stonewalling. I honestly just think she enjoys being a gigantic pain in my ass. She turns eighteen in two days, and she’ll be marrying Leonardo days later even if I have to drag her down the aisle by her fucking hair.
Bianca and I needed a break. With everything that has transpired over the past six or so months, I haven’t had time to enjoy her. I mean, I’veenjoyedher, but not without lies or distractions or rogue FBI agents or troublesome siblings cutting into our time,alone, as husband and wife. The cabin seemed like the perfect place for the two of us to hide away for a few days. Gabriella was agreeable enough to take that tiny animal Bianca assures me is a dog. Thank fuck, because the minuscule creature is the ultimate cock block.
“I find it arbitrarily attractive when you sit in that chair.”
I sip my whiskey, liking the casual slur of her words. She’s only had two glasses of wine, but it doesn’t take much for her to edge over the precipice of sober into a lustful tipsy.
“I want to strip you naked and drag my tongue over every sinful inch of your body every second of every day, no matterwhereyou sit.”
Her eyes narrow, but the way her teeth pull at her bottom lip tells an entirely different narrative to the one her pretty brown eyes are attempting to portray.
“Your rings are also oddly seductive.” She runs a hand absently over the high ponytail she’s pulled her hair into.
It’s done purposely to make me wild. Her beauty is incomparable no matter how she wears her hair. But when she pulls it back, showing me the entirety of her face, I can’t focus on anything else. Her seductive eyes; eternally widened with wonder and want and a violent need to be loved, the high cut of her cheekbones, her thick pink lips; forever parted in an unintended pout, and the flawless satin of her tanned skin—my wife is the fucking sun. It hurts to look at her, but I fixate on her unmeasured grace until my eyes ache and my heart is nothing but an obsessive ode to the way I need her. I’m captivated and haunted and gratefully lost to the infliction of love.
I grin, stretching my fingers out over my glass. “Your pussy is exquisite, and I’d very much like it on my face.”
Her mouth drops open. “I’m complimenting the mundane things I find attractive about you.”
I let the smoke of my whiskey dance on my tongue before swallowing it. “And I’m telling you all the ways I’d like to make you come.”
She’s dressed only in a robe, and I can see the hard cut of her nipples through the pearly silk gathered at her chest.
I remember the first moment I laid eyes on a matured Bianca Rossi. Granted, I didn’t recognize it washer,or that she was only sixteen, so I sat at a family Christmas party, sipping whiskey and imagining all the ways I could get the brunette beauty to scream my name. Laughing and gossiping with her sister, she was oblivious to my corrupt attentions. That only made me want her more.
Enzo noticed—of course he fucking did—and took great pleasure in destroying my fantasy by enlightening me with the truth; both of her age and her promised nuptials to none other than Salvatore fucking Bianchi. I was livid, first at myself for being a seedy motherfucker, but mostly that the asshole from the Outfit would taste something that I was certain was meant for me.
I watched her bloom over the next few years, my fantasies growing darker and more depraved. I spent hours thinking about laying her out on the grand entrance of her mother and father’s home—with every asshole watching—and lapping at her untouched cunt until she came on my face and begged me for more. I wanted to carve my name into the base of her spine like a vulgar stamp that promised she belonged to me andonlyme. I thought of ways to kill Salvatore, bloody and vengeful, for evenconsideringtouching her. I wanted to lock her away and keep her to myself, using her body in a way that would make her thank me for the privilege.
“I think you’d be a vision in this chair as well,” I taunt. “Especially with my face as a cushion.”
“You’re so fucking dirty.”
I tip the remainder of my drink into my mouth, discarding the glass roughly on the coffee table. “And you, my little whore, fucking love it.”
“I do,” she agrees readily.
Pushing off the armchair, I sit lazily on the floor, the armchair she finds so attractive at my back. With one leg bent upward, I rest my elbow on my knee. “Straddle my face, wife, and let me drown in your pussy.”
Placing her wineglass delicately on the floor, she stands without delay, her thumbnail caught between her teeth. “Will you be able to breathe?”
I shrug. “I hope not. It kind of defeats the purpose of drowning.”
She laughs but moves closer, stopping only when she stands over me.
“I bet that cunt of yours is already nice and slick for me.”
