I moan harshly when Vincent comes up from behind and joins him inside me. And when Alex climbs on top of the sofa, I grab him by his muscular thighs and take him in my mouth.
Complete possession. Utter abandonment of self. They destroy me, once again, fucking me out of this world, ramming into my like there’s no tomorrow. My breasts bounce in Max’s capable hands. Vincent keeps smacking my ass while Alex deep-throats me until tears trickle down my cheeks.
The rhythm builds.
The tension rises.
“I love you,” Alex says.
Our eyes meet, and he knows. He knows I feel the same. It makes this moment all the more precious, all the more sinful as he takes a firm hold of my head. I lock my lips around his cock and let him work, let him claim my lips and my tongue until his hot seed spurts down my throat.
I swallow every drop and bask in the heat of his adoration.
Vincent pumps me full of him. Max, too. We become one until there’s nothing left of us for the rest of the world.
“Oh, God, I love you!” I moan as Vincent’s fingers work my throbbing clit into a second orgasm. I explode all over him and Max. I come hard, panting and pulsating outward like an exploding star.
Only the glint of my diamond remains while I’m wrapped in their warm, firm bodies. This is it for us. The closest we’ll ever get to a happy ending. And the best part? Our lives are only just beginning.
“Here’s to a lifetime of this,” Max whispers as I slowly descend from the clouds and rest my head on his chest.
I feel Vincent’s hand on the small of my back. Alex’s fingertips outlining my face.
This is perfection. Imperfect and messy and loud. Shimmering and shivering and sweet. Peaceful and firm and decisive. So many shades to this single moment in time. So many facets to an existence as brilliant and as perfect as the diamond on my finger.
This is us.
EPILOGUE
RAINA
“Istill can’t believe you brought me in here,” Matty says.
We’re almost finished preparing the second course for our grand opening. The entire kitchen is organized chaos, plates waiting under the heating lamps to be set with each element of a carefully designed menu.
“Listen, with the amount of logistical and personal setbacks we’ve had, it’s a miracle I managed to bring us both in!” I reply, almost laughing.
I practically waddle from one working counter to another, my feet and back killing me, as I lay the dessert plates out. They’re beautiful, perfectly round and matte white with crimson red lace borders—a special set made by Wedgwood for The Black Swan.
“God, they’re beautiful,” I say, admiring the details depicting scenes from Tchaikovsky’s renowned ballet oeuvre that inspired the guys’ choice of name for the restaurant.
Behind us, waiters in perfectly tailored uniforms gather up to four plates and waltz them out into the main dining salon. Every time the doors open, the sound of music and laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses pours into the kitchen as a subtle reminder that opening night is a wonderful success.
It means it was all worth it.
I decide to throw Matty a bone. “You belong here, Matty. Someday, I’ll want to open a restaurant of my own. My own concept from the bare walls all the way down to the choice of glassware for the dessert wines, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I do.”
“And when that happens, I’ll need someone to take over the head chef position here,” I say, looking at him. “There’s no one else I can think of.”
“You’re gonna make me cry.” He chuckles and grabs one of the sauce bowls. “So we go with the red first, then the green, right?”
“Yes.”
We get to work decorating the dessert plates before we take the lavish berry and lime cheesecake out, slice it, then plate it. Each piece will get a garnish of fresh berries and the thinnest lime slice, along with gold foil and a spiral of fine dark chocolate as the finishing touch.
“You, on the other hand, you don’t belong here,” Matty says at one point.
