Looking down at where we’re joined, I’m hypnotized. Not only can Ifeelher pussy flutter around my cock, but from this angle, I can see her clenching around me. She’s about to come, so I use my thumb to rub her small clit and lightly pinch it.
She detonates with a loud cry, and it’s fucking beautiful. Watching Evangeline orgasm is one of my favorite phenomena to behold.
It’s as if I’m watching a miracle of nature; she’s so uninhibited and free. Mouth parted, eyes closed, body shaking as she sobs her release.
Feeling like a fucking god because I’m blessed to witness this; I crave to see it over and over again. Forever.
Sharing the moment with her, I finally succumb to my own release, shuddering and violently exploding inside her womb.
When the last tremor runs through me, I collapse on top of her, never having felt so overcome with my emotions.
We’re bound now. Evangeline and myself. By blood, by death, by her poison, and by my violence.
She said in the alley all those weeks ago; it was my spell that brought us together, but I know better.
Evangeline placed a spell on me, bewitched me, bound me to her.
My piccola strega. My little witch.
Not my spell, but hers. And I never want to break free.
THE END
Epilogue
Luca
Halloweennight.Oneyearlater.
“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” I ask Dante, pointing at his outfit. It's just his every day, dark three-piece Brioni suit.
He took the easy way out, so someone has to give him shit, and I’m the only one brave enough to do it. Other than his wife.
“A mobster. What the fuck else?” he growls grumpily in his low, gravel voice, like he's shocked Ihave to ask.
“And so how is that different from any other day?” I ask sarcastically. The man is the head of the Vescari criminal empire, so he is an actual mobster. This shouldn't count as a costume.
Dante rolls his eyes, holding up a fedora, and pointing to the framed picture sitting on the entry table.
Okay. I guess I can see it now, and it is kind of creepy how much Dante resembles his grandfather in the picture.
When he adds the hat, they could be twins. His grandfather was one of the original Vescari off the boat from Italy. It’s rumored that he ruled Chicago with a fair, but iron fist, and I’ve always thought he was who Dante wanted to be like, not the motherfucker that was his father.
May he rest in hell.
“What’syourcostume?” he asks dubiously, pointing at my tux. An eight-thousand-dollar bespoke tuxedo, thank you very much.
I dangle a black half-mask in front of me. “I’m a mysterious businessman. Can’t you tell?” Swiping my hand down my body with a pout.
“What the fuck ever,” Dante rasps mockingly, rolling his eyes. “You pussied out just like me.”
"Yep. " I agree with a simple shrug. Then, we bump fists, because no way in hell were Dante Vescari or I ever going to dress in a ridiculous costume to attend some boring political fundraiser. Halloween or not.
We did, however, have to make some sort of attempt to play the part because Dante’s wife loves Halloween. It’s Evangeline’s favorite time of year, and she’s been planning her costume for weeks.
We’re waiting patiently when eventually, our queen descends the stairs. And she’s a vision.
I’ve seen Evangeline Hart, no,Evangeline Vescari,in many states of dress and undress, thanks to my boss’s inability to keep his hands off her. And don’t get me wrong, I love Evangeline, but only as I would a sister.
