I continue to spasm around him.
His massive erection is a rock in the storm, giving me something to hold onto and pushing me higher. This orgasm reaches right down to my toes and up to my heart. Coming with Dante inside me is different. More. His heat, his size, the sheer overwhelmingness of belonging. At last, belonging.
“I love you,” I splutter out, a bit nonsensically, and he makes a wounded noise and nods, still easing me through the climax.
“So beautiful,” he says hoarsely. “You’re such a good girl for me. Perfectly responsive. I love you too, and… ohhh.” He groans and tenses. “You’re too much.”
He rolls over, bringing me with him, so I’m on top of him. Holding me onto his cock, he part grinds us together, part slams me into him. My entire body fits to him, my legs are sprawled out to the sides. His hands dig almost painfully into my hips, but I welcome it. The sensation of his strength used on and for me.
And that’s when he comes, groaning and shuddering, looking up at me as though I’m his everything. And despite being utterly shattered by my orgasm, and exhausted, I’m powerful in this moment. I made him explode.
His arms hold me as his cock pulses, and I can feel him coming inside me. Filling me up, as he promised.
I can barely breathe for how tight he’s holding me, but I don’t care as I throb with pleasure from where we’re joined. The discomfort is a long-ago memory. There’s only how perfectly Dante feels inside me, in a space I didn’t know was exactly the shape and size of him. The little aftershocks of pleasure keep racking through me, making me warm and tingly and weak.
“Was that good?” I ask eventually. “I’ve never done it before, and…” It’s so vulnerable to ask. He said he loved me so maybe he won’t mind me just checking. I’ve never dared before to request praise.
“My wife,” he murmurs, and smooths my hair away from my face before kissing my forehead. “You want me to tell you you’re my good girl? That you’re my good wife?”
“Yes,” I confess in a needy little whisper.
“Mmm,” he makes a purring noise from deep inside him that vibrates into me through my chest. “You’re perfect, in every single way.” He strokes his hands firmly over my naked back, as though he can’t resist touching me even now. “Even when you’re feeding me enough breakfast to keep me going for a week.” There’s a smile in his voice, and emotion wells in my heart. “In bed, you’re everything I need and want, and always will be.”
I close my eyes, and maybe for the first time in my life, I relax. Held on top of Dante, I finallyfeelgood. Loved.
“It will always be you. I’ll always choose you. I’ll always protect you.” He gathers my hair to the back of my head and fists it, tugging gently in a possessive motion that forces me to look up into his green eyes. “I love you so much, tesorina.” He kisses me deeply, fingers clenched in my hair, keeping me close. As though I’d want to be anywhere else. “Never doubt, Ruby. I would burn everything down for another ten minutes with you.”
EPILOGUE
DANTE
Six years later
I never imagined I’d be back at this Italian villa, standing beneath an arch of white flowers, with a young man I didn’t think I’d get to know as well as I do.
And I’m here to marry the love of my life. With my sister.
A double wedding. Lucia is marrying Beniamino after what can only be described as a passionate, whirlwind romance. And I’m renewing my vows with Ruby.
“Daddy,” my son, and joy of my heart, tugs on my trouser leg.
“Yes, Marco.” He’s named after my Italian London Maths Club friend, Marco Brent, since it was thanks to him saying yes quite enthusiastically to my idea of having our wives with us for the Italian Dons sub-meeting of the Syndicate that I was back in time to save Ruby. I owe him my life, because if I didn’t have my wife, I don’t think I’d be able to go on.
“When’s Mummy coming?”
Well, she came on my tongue only three hours ago when we indulged in a bit of “pre-marital” mischief together, before our second—third?—wedding.
Soon after we agreed our accidental marriage would be deliberately permanent, we had a tiny, private ceremony with my sister and a few others present. But Ruby decided that since everyone already thought we’d eloped in a technical first wedding, we should have the ceremony quietly. Only for us, really.
“Mummy and Aunty Lucia will be here soon.” I ruffle Marco’s hair and he scowls as he tries to smooth it again. He has brown eyes like Ruby, but black hair like mine.
To the other side of the triple arch, Beniamino fidgets with his usual energy. My sister calls him a golden retriever, which doesn’t seem complimentary until you see the expression on her face as she says it.
She’s lucky I didn’t arrange for her to be mysteriously married to him.
“What colour do you think your mum’s dress will be?” I ask Marco, and settle my hand on his shoulder.
My son is my official best man, while Marco Brent is dealing with all the duties with the chance of going wrong. He has the rings. No pets involved, we’ve learned that lesson as a family.
