Now & Forever
Aria Amora
We left Switzerland right after the New Year. We took the train, then we took the three-or so-hours drive from the station to Piemonte. Most of that time I spent thinking about the gift that was on its way from Switzerland to Italy—the fancy carriage Brando and Scarlett had gifted us with.
Since Rocco was Mia’s godfather, he had bought her first carriage. Scarlett showed me pictures of it. That one for sure was for a girl. I realized after the gift of theirs was given, ours could work for either. I was the one who instantly thought…girl. When I told Scarlett that, she winked at me and squeezed my hand.
If she knew for certain, she wasn’t telling, and that was fine by us. We wanted to be surprised.
On the ride home, though, I couldn’t stop staring at my husband.
It took Rocco less time to make the drive, but that was his usual. He didn’t drive when he got behind the wheel, he raced. So different from when he was inside of me.
His eyes never missed a second of me—he watched me squirm some in my seat, the way my mouth parted, and my breaths were coming faster. His nostrils even flared…he knew Iwas turned on just by watching him be in control of the fast car, and he could scent the sweet aroma in the air.
I wondered…I set my hand on his thigh, his cock already hard and pressing against his pants. I ran my other hand over his shoulder, then I undid his zipper and freed him. I released the breath I’d been holding. He was magnificent. A work of art. I leaned over the seat and…his eyes lowered, his mouth parted, and he gently stroked my hair as I worked him with my mouth.
He tasted so good.
A bit salty, a bit wild, a feral man.
I was so turned on from what I was doing to him I could smell the scent of my own desire in the cold air.
He growled and hit the horn, then he swerved a bit as he found his release.
I tucked him back in, the mess we made apparent—but his long coat would cover it when he buttoned it up. I smiled at him, proud of myself, and he leaned over and kissed me until I felt like I’d melted into the leather seat.
My husband looked love drunk, even after what I’d just done. He needed more, and so did I. He pressed his foot down on the gas, and we seemed to fly the rest of the way home.
We barely stopped before he threw the fast car into park and jumped out. He threw his keys to Guido, opened my door, scooped me out of the seat and brought us intoNel Cielo.
The scent of our home enveloped me, and I felt even higher than my husband. I clung to him like my lungs clung to the scent of safety.
We locked the doors and didn’t allow the world in.
I knew what we were facing. Ita, since I knew she wasn’t going to go peacefully; Francesco and his line; Rocco becoming king; not to mention Massimo and Uncle Tito. I was worried about family at two separate times of their lives, and I wasn’t sure anyone could help either of them.
I was hoping and praying it all went smoothly.
After the meeting, Rocco was attempting to set up a meeting between me and Chloe, but he was hesitant of her reaction. He said she was the least confrontational person he’d ever met, but she could cut to the quick. He had told me Rosaria had slashed, and she, Chloe, couldn’t deal with the dueling. However…she had found a way to carve his son’s heart out and serve it to him on a platter.
So, with all this to confront in a short amount of time, we locked ourselves in.
Even with Rocco’s schedule.
He didn’t seem to give a damn about it.
Being the top lawyer for the family, Rocco traveled all over the world. He traveled all over Italy as his position in the family continued to move toward king. He did this to get to know Italy, her people, and to serve the family. He handled all the family “business” while also making sure he kept his position safe and unchallenged. If the people of the kingdom, aka, the family, accepted their next ruler, it made the transition smoother.
As I’d come to learn, though, rarely did this family do anything smoothly. It was ruthless, and paired with the romance, it was all very dramatic. They almost lived for it, like a bunch of ancient Romans on the stage of life.
All this to say, we recreated the time after our wedding and locked ourselves up until February. We slept in, stayed up all night, and loafed around our property. I cooked while my husband busied himself with hard labor, tending to our land and taking care of all my needs.
Sometimes I felt like I could sleep for days; other times I felt like I couldn’t get enough of my husband, and he could live inside of me forever.
One cold and dreary morning, when the fog created a wall around our property, so much so that I expected a bean stalkto appear outside our window, I rested my head against my husband’s chest, just listening to the beat of his heart.
His beat in cadence with mine.
