by Olivia Fox
He lowered his head and kissed and licked at my barely swollen belly, looking up at me, “Will you be mine forever?”
The bells of the Duomo rang loudly outside, and I grabbed his hair in my hands, pulling him up to my lips. “Yes, Signor Drago. Papà. A thousand times yes, I’ll marry you!”
30
Savanna
Epilogue
“Being a bride-to-be and being three months pregnant, don’t mix,” I said to Kate and Jessica, who came with me to try on wedding dresses.
“On the plus side,” Kate chirped. “Your boobs look banging in every dress you try on.”
“Ha ha,” I said, collapsing into the slipper chair in the dressing room’s corner at the bridal gown boutique, sipping from my champagne flute filled with sparkling apple juice. “I’m referring to the fact that both are exhausting activities.”
I closed my eyes, glad to be surrounded by friends who could handle my fatigue and moodiness.
Jessica spoke up. “Okay, just one more to try on and then we can go. I have a good feeling about this one and you know my intuition is hardly ever wrong.”
It wasn’t just dress shopping and marriage that wore me out; it was the prep-work Kate and I were doing for the grand opening of our new Muddy Paws store in town. We were opening up another branch, and Kate rented out her place in Oakland and move to Briarville to run it with me. It was a dream come true.
It was also a hell of a lot of work.
I kicked off my shoes beneath the poofed out, lace and tulle skirt of the most current rejection dress, and slouched further into my chair, ready to be disappointed again.
The dressing room assistant came out from the back and flicked the skirt of the dress over her arm with a flourish. “We only stock one Berta at a time, and this one is a showstopper.”
The crystal beaded dress had feather detailing along the hemline and came with a sleekly hanging cape in the same beaded material.
“You’ve got a beautiful figure and while you may be a little more, er, ripe by the ceremony, this gown will showcase your curves to perfection. You’ll look fecund, not pregnant,” said the assistant.
Shoving myself up in the seat, I said, “I don’t know. That fabric is practically transparent.”
“Exactly the point—it’s from the Milano Collection and demands a fearless woman to wear it. Part of the appeal is the nude corset and high-waisted boy shorts worn beneath it, so they peak through the lace layers.” She swept her hand under the skirt so that the beading sparkled under the light. “Try it on.”
“Here let me help you unzip the one you’re in,” Jessica said, helping me to my feet and carefully pulling the zipper down on the magical fairy, pastel rainbow gown I’d tried on—also to appease Jessica.
As she reverently pulled the unicorn layers of tulle to my feet, I told her, “You’re a bridesmaid—what better excuse than that to buy a fantasy fae queen dress like this?” I pointed to the heap of sherbet-colored fabric she was removing from me. “Why don’t you try it on?”
“I don’t know.” She acted unsure, but I could tell by the way she ran her fingers over the appliqued butterflies, repeatedly, that she wanted to.
Kate helped me put the many pieces of the Berta ensemble on, and preoccupied me with her instructions. “Hand. Arm. Lift.”
Finally, tucked properly into the couture gown before I turned to look in the mirror, there was a deep voice from the side door. “Signora Drago.”
“Dante! You’re not supposed to see me in my wedding gown, it’s bad luck!” I said.
He didn’t look like a made man, whatever that meant. He wasn’t thug-like. It was more like an Italian movie star had accidentally stumbled into our small-town dress boutique.
His sensual lips, ridiculously long lashes, and beard stubble never failed to plunge me beneath a layer of lusty, liquid warmth. Rubbing my face, I turned to take in the sight that made his gaze so hot.
“It’s perfect,” Kate said, coming to my side and positioning the skirt just so. I had to admit, I loved how the fabric hugged my curves.
I flashed Dante a knowing smile in the mirror.
He confirmed what I was thinking, again speaking two words like an appeal, and only the two of us knew what they meant. “Signora Drago.”
Meaning, “Mercy. I can’t take much more of that.”
I ran my hands down the expensive fabric of the dress. “I think you’re right, Mr. Union President. This is indeed a dress worthy of Mrs. Drago.”
Even though I’d joked with him he’d supposedly cursed us by seeing it ahead of the ceremony, bad luck wasn’t something I believed in anymore.
For so long, I’d had a run of bad luck that made me lose faith good things were ever going to happen.
And then life showed me: you’re either at the table or on the menu, and I’d fight to make sure I was nobody’s victim ever again.
“It’s your show, bella,” Dante said, waving a hand towards me to tell me he was tapping out of the dress decision.
It didn’t matter. Jessica was right. This was the one.
Dante headed to his office to take care of business. Meanwhile, Kate and I met up with Gracie, a graphic designer and social media manager in town, to talk launch strategy for Muddy Paws. She convinced us we could leverage the scenery of the Lost Coast to create a popular Instagram account that would drive business to an online store, making up for the sparse customer population in Briarville.
We met in the building that Aunt Teresa turned us on to. A friend of hers had no use for the downtown store front and was tired of managing it. We had taken up the orange shag carpeting to reveal oak flooring below. Instead of the usual rows and rows of pet food and metal cages, we planned to design the entire store like a Victorian parlor, minus the tacky wallpaper and creepy antique dolls. We kept the windows unadorned to let in the natural light and placed comfortable sofas for the dogs and puppies to lounge on along with their owners.
“Genius idea to have Roxy put together a line of baked goods for pets. Their owners can linger and shop while Fido munches free samples,” said Gracie. “It would be a homey touch to offer their owners refreshments as well, tea and cupcakes from Sprinkles.”
“Eventually we want to expand the back lot to an add on doggie day care, but for now, we’ll start with just the store.” Kate told Gracie.
“Good plan. It’s going to take you a while to nail down managing an online store. Give yourself time,” Gracie advised.
The fact that I was starting over again and going into business with my best friend didn’t seem real.
Exciting as it all was, it wiped me out.
“Well, friends, I think it all looks great. I hate to tell you; nap time is calling. I’m going to head home and let you finish up discussion of our plans.” I leaned down and placed a kiss at Kate’s temple. “I trust you to make the best decisions for us.”
I went home and collapsed on the bed, barely pulling the covers over me before falling asleep.
That evening Dante came home and entered the bedroom. I’d heard him come in and was just waking up. “How’d you do after I left?”
“It was a long day,” I replied. “Long, but good. Muddy Paws is coming along nicely, and I picked out a dress.”
I sat up in bed and scrubbed the sleep from my eyes, feeling refreshed.
“Guess who’s extended his stay in the U.S.?”
“Sergio?”
“You got it. I saw him at the bakery today, and something tells me they got more than a little close on that cruise.”
“Oh, that’s awesome.” I said, wanting everyone to be as in love as Dante and I were.
I sighed at the sheer gorgeous perfection of him standing in the bedroom, the place where it all started.
“I want you,” he whispered, and leaned in to kiss me. Pulling my top off, his stare tracing my taut nipples, and his hands roamed my breasts. As he pinched and pulled at the tips, I trembled in his arms, amazed by the strength of my reaction t
o that simple act.
“This reminds me of the night it all began. You in my bed, fragile like a flower. Almost begging to be fucked.”
“And you, the big bad Drago male telling me you’d get me out of a tight spot... for a price.”
“Who knew, huh?” he said.
“Who knew what?”
“That while getting you out of a tight spot, I’d be getting into yours.” He made a rumble of approval and lowered his face to my breasts, nibbling and sucking my nipples into his mouth.
“I don’t hear you complaining,” I said, unzipping his pants and pulling them down to reach between his thighs, avoiding his cock and gently cupping his balls in my hand.
I tugged at him just to have him fall on me with a voracious growl. It was delicious to have this man, with a warrior’s strength, completely at my mercy and to be at his.
“I still remember how I showed you I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Do you?” he asked.
His clothes came off layer by layer, and his cock was fairly bouncing in front of me, needy for release.
“I’m not sure. Maybe you could remind me,” I said.
He pushed me back on the bed. “Spread your legs wide.”
I did as he instructed.
“Hold your lips open and show me that pretty pussy,” he grumbled.
Turning my head to the side, I pulled myself open for him and waited for what I knew was coming, what I wanted to come.
“No coming,” he threatened, and his warning wasn’t off mark. Ever since getting pregnant, it was like my body was hyper primed to orgasm.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
He delivered three gentle swats straight to my pussy, and the sensation zinged up my middle, snagging at my belly button.
“Roll over onto your stomach.” His abrupt tone surprised and excited me. He yanked my hips up, setting me on my knees, and swiped the lubricated head of his dick up and down my slit.
He rammed forward, shoving straight down into my pussy, which clenched tightly around him.
“God, it’s like you’re squeezing my shaft from root to tip,” he said hoarsely.
He stopped for a moment, seemingly to halt his orgasm. “You love this, don’t you?” His fingers clamped onto my hips for leverage so he could drive in and out of me. “Your tight little cunt is always ravenous for me, isn’t it? Ever since that first night we spent together.” He let out a rough groan as he shoved his cock in and out, harder and faster. “Make me come, baby, do it!”
His dirty talk egged me on and came out in a hot breath that touched my back. “Yes! Fuck me! Harder, please!”
I gasped as he pummeled against me and reached down to make rapid, complimentary strokes across my swollen nub.
The pressure built, and my entire body was on fire with pleasure.
He moaned loudly behind me and nearly lifted me off the mattress with the force of his thrusts.
I needed him to go first; it always shoved me over the edge to feel his release and spun me out into convulsive waves. His seed burned hot as it shot out of him, his pulsing cock gushing into me, and we moaned together, luxuriating in the sweet sensation that followed his rough motions.
Dante lowered himself to the base of my neck to lick at my pulse. “You taste like salt,” he said. “Salt of the Earth. My terra firma.”
He rested his cheek on the top of my head and placed another kiss there.
“I love you,” I said, leaning back against him and dozing off again. I struggled to stay awake, not wanting to miss out on any of our evening time alone together.
“I love you too, my sweet. Rest now. We have our entire lives to enjoy each other.” He tucked me further under his arm.
He was right—just like the first day he met me when he said, “Some things don’t take long to figure out.”
It didn’t take long for me to figure out Dante and I had a lifetime of kissing each other ahead of us.
And soon there would be baby kisses too. My half-lidded eyes slid closed as he breathed my name. “We’re family now, Savanna.”
Family’s belonged together.
Family’s stuck together.
They were a little foolish.
A bit rowdy.
Wild.
Precious.
Our intensely loyal famiglia.
The End - Keep Reading
Here’s a sneak peek at the next book in the Rough Redemption Series, Commanding Thirst.
Daphne
That voice.
Holy crap.
Was it possible to forget the voice of my hero?
Especially when said voice zinged a direct hit to the spot between my legs.
What the hell was he doing in Chapman’s Bookery?
Antonio Drago was never a bookworm.
Far from it.
What he had been? The object of my fantasies from Sophomore to Senior year of high school. I had no business thinking dirty thoughts about a guy ten years older than me back then, but try and tell that to my female, adolescent brain.
As if he’d have given me a second thought, anyway.
He was just being nice.
That day after he drove by and saw Clint Whitehead spitting at me from the seat of his motocross bike on the sidewalk route I took every day, he insisted on taking me to and from school.
Clint was as appealing as his last name, and Tony put a stop to his bullying once and for all.
It only took one punch, it was a crunchy punch at that. I swore I heard bone and cartilage snapping with the impact.
I never fancied myself a connoisseur of violence, but the freedom gained from that single blow made me a bit of a fan.
Antonio was always proper and gentle as a lamb with me, but there was no denying he had blood on those huge hands.
That knowledge certainly didn’t keep me from diddling my skittle every night while thinking of him.
Fantasizing about Mr. Drago was the only action I got during my teens.
Now here he was, in the very bookstore where I worked, looking even more muscular than I remembered. I rose up from the bottom shelves behind which I hid and parted Tess of the d’Urbervilles and Far from the Madding Crowd to sneak a peek of his biceps and whether they were on the verge of busting the seams of the very expensive suit he wore.
Not quite.
His tailored suit flattered his every chiseled plane and muscled bulge in perfect taste.
“I’ll have an espresso, Lucia.” He said, and I wondered how on earth he made a caffeinated beverage sound like dirty talk.
Would he espresso all over me?
“Sure thing, Tony. It’s on the house.” My boss Lucia replied. She was a good boss and paid a decent wage for the position she hired me for. It wasn’t her fault I was overqualified with my degree in library science, settling for a job that earned less than I should be making.
Old habits died hard.
She asked me about it during my interview, “What are your plans down the road, Daphne? Do you see yourself being a clerk in a book store for long? You do have a college degree after all.”
I’d have told her the truth if I realized what that was. Instead, I’d deflected, “I love books. I’m so grateful there was a position in my home town, where my sister lives, where I can be surrounded by books all day.”
She hired me. A deranged store clerk, who was currently hiding behind the stacks like a demented spinster.
“Daphne?” Oh God, Lucia called out to me and he was still sitting on the soft arm chair of the cafe, placed there to encourage customers to linger. “Come here. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
I’d linger on his lap, if he’d let me.
No, I would not do that.
Lap lingering was a very bad idea.
He was hanging around alright.
Lounging like a Siberian tiger might; all caged energy and the promise of violence which could be unleashed on a dime.
Antonio Drago was a predator.
Plain and simple.<
br />
If he knew I was back in town, would he hunt me down?
I tried to hide the way he made my body temperature skyrocket. I could feel my cheeks blazing and my panty zone starting to melt.
It wasn’t fair.
The path from behind the shelves to the coffee and lounge area was exactly twenty steps, I counted, but it may as well have been all ten miles of the Foggy Bottoms Run. Towards the end, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. My breath labored, and my knees were on the verge of giving out under me.
“We’ve met.” I said. “Hi Tony.” I raised my right hand in greeting.
“Daphne Marie Pruitt — as I live and breathe. You work here?” His voice hit me right between the legs, a totally unfair advantage, and his thick black eyebrows raised at me, awaiting an answer. I nodded my reply.
“Nice to meet you.” His deep voice rumbled. I reached my hand out to reintroduce myself. “Again.” Big mistake letting him take my hand.
His skin emanated heat from the larger-than-life force within, this was a man you could lie with naked, snow falling on your faces, the Artic winds howling, polar bears on the prowl, and he’d keep you safe and warm.
Unless you were on his hit list. Then he’d turn cold-blooded killer in an instant and terro would choke the breath from your throat.
“How’s your sister?” He asked.
“Still here, working at the station.” Maggie achieved local fame as a TV news anchor. I was proud of her, when she wasn’t driving me crazy.
His voice became ice, “You’re not seeing anyone are you?” He growled.
Okay, I hated it when romance novels used ‘growled’ as a mode of speach for alpha males, but there was no other way to describe how he spoke. It was a growl.
“Jeez you two.” Lucia said, “I’d say get a room, but I need Daphne on the floor.”
“We know each other from way back. Lots to catch up on. I’ll be back when your shift ends, we’ll have dinner.” He said.
“Uh, I’m busy.” I lied.
I moved back to Briarville to survive and thrive. Maggie accused me of trying to stay small and fit in. Just like when we were kids.
