He drags his thumb through the mess of cum and lipstick on my face, then pulls me up to standing. “My turn to clean you up,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.
He leans down and licks the mix of cum and breast milk off my breasts. My nipples harden, and soon, I’m moaning under his touch, his fingers finding their way back inside me. I shamelessly ride his hand, begging him to fuck me. “Please take me down to the suite, Tommy.”
“Not yet.”
Before I can protest, he turns me around roughly and shoves me against the brick wall that rings the rooftop. It’s low enough that I can see out over the city lights, and as I marvel at the view, he slides his cock through my wet folds then pushes inside my pussy. Fucking me hard and fast, my tits bouncing, milk beads up on my nipples and drips down.
He slaps my ass hard, then again. And again. I cry out, calling his name, clinging to the wall as he pushes his thumb into my ass. I don’t care who hears me. Tommy owns me right now, and nothing else matters.
I come hard, my pussy gripping his cock, milking him like he milked my breasts, my arousal dripping down his balls.
“Fuck, Gi. FUCK.” He pulls out and shoves his cock deep in my ass.
I gasp at the invasion, the pain mixing with the euphoria still rippling through my body. “Tommy!”
He comes hard, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he fills me up.
He leans over my back, dragging his tongue over my scar. “Figured I’d let you get down the aisle with me before I put another baby in you.” He nips at my ear lobe, his voice husky. “But you’d better make it quick because I’m not waiting much longer.”
60
Epilogue 2: Sophie
“Sophie!!”
The sound of my cousin Siena’s voice instantly makes me smile. Shoving my metal slotted spoon at Rocco, my sous chef, I wipe my palms on my apron and barely have time to open my arms before she barrels into me.
“Siena!” I laugh. “I’m so glad you’re here! Everything you wanted is ready.”
She pulls back, her bright eyes sweeping over the small kitchen: gas burners hissing, stainless counters cluttered with bowls, the air thick with simmering tomato and wine.
The Neapolitan ragù has been on the stove for eight hours, and the lasagna made from it waits for the oven.
“Lasagna!” she squeals. “And the osso buco?”
I point to the tray of veal shanks. “There’s risotto too, if anyone wants it.”
“And not have your lasagna? Who in their right mind would do that? Come out and say ‘hi’ to everyone!”
She’s already tugging me out to the dining room. I glance back at Rocco, who just rolls his eyes and stirs the sauce.
It’s Saturday night, but my little restaurant is quiet. Mr. Calaveras is in his usual corner, espresso in hand, half a dozen plates spread before him as he reads. A couple who finished hours ago are staring into each other’s eyes over by the window, the overpass traffic glowing red and white behind them.
The last table belongs to Siena’s crew. Her husband, Matti, and her brothers-in-law, Vin and Tommy, are there. Tommy’s wife, Giovanna, waves at me, her pregnant belly showing even though she’s seated. The men are usually so intimidating—stony, quiet, intense stares. Tommy rarely talks to anyone but his wife, Vin never stops talking, and Matti—well, he’s the father of my little niece, Emilia, due in just a few weeks, so he can do no wrong.
Matti nods as I walk up, and Giovanna stands carefully to hug me. Tommy keeps his hand on her until she’s seated again, and Vin is leaning back in his chair to check out the back side of Lisa, my waitress, who leaves to fill their drink order.
“Soph, I think you’ve met everyone but Vin,” Siena says as she drops into her seat. “But don’t bother. He’s not worth the energy.”
Vin scowls at her over the menu, and I bite back a smile. I’ve actually met him before many times, but he’s never remembered me.
I’ve never forgotten him.
Tall, muscular like a weight lifter, big brown eyes that see into your soul—and under your clothes—plus an ever-present cocky smirk that gets every woman’s attention immediately. Including mine.
Vin glances up at me, then back to the menu. “Alright, princess, what are the specials tonight?”
“Vin!” Siena snaps. “She’s the chef and owner. She’s not here to take your order.”
