by Aria Ford
We had planned a small-scale reception here, hiring the pavilion, so no press could even consider following us.
The reception dinner seemed to go faster than I expected and, before long, the sky was dark and we were heading home. My stomach was tying in knots with excitement. We were going home together.
We were staying in my apartment for the night. Again, ostensibly it was to keep a low profile but really just because we wanted to.
Jay leaned against the door and kissed me. His tongue stroked mine and I leaned into his body, loving the way he wrapped me in his arms. I could feel the arousal he felt, the hard bulge pressing against me and I pushed against it, loving how his breath stopped.
“Come on,” he whispered.
We went through to the bedroom.
He leaned against the door and we kissed. Since my own accident, I was well-acquainted with crutches and we blended seamlessly together as he extricated himself from them and walked slowly to the bed.
His hands moved down my back as he lay beside me.
“You look so beautiful,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I should undo it.”
I chuckled. “Jay! Stop tormenting me.” I could feel his hands stroking my belly, stroking my back. If he didn’t undress me soon, I might actually explode from wanting.
He laughed. “Sorry. Well, I dunno how…” he frowned, feeling the buttons down my dress.
“Like this?” I reached up and undid his button. He breathed out shakily.
“Mm. I guess.”
He started undoing the buttons, and I started to appreciate them. It felt like he was unwrapping me, and he did it slowly, kissing my shoulders, then my chest, then my breastbone….
When he reached my waist, I was shivering with excitement. I shot him a look.
“Take it off?”
He laughed. He let it fall fluidly to the floor and sat back, just looking at me.
“You’re so lovely.” He breathed a slow, delicious breath.
I lay back, posing in the underwear. I had chosen it carefully, all white lace. He reached forward greedily.
“I want you,” he murmured.
I sighed and laughed heartily as he gently ran his hands down my breasts, pressing them and stroking them and then, with muscly grace, he stripped me. I gasped as he took my nipple into his mouth, working it intently with his tongue.
“Jay…” I breathed. He was going slowly, letting my arousal build. His mouth was around my nipple, his fingers taking off my undies and then, slowly, stroking me.
I closed my eyes, letting the nerves steadily overload with pleasure as he worked my nipple and my clit. I was ready to cry out when he finally sat back.
“Jay…” I moaned.
He took off his shirt and then undressed himself. I wanted him so badly. He put his hand between my thighs again, stroking me.
“I’m not finished yet,” he said.
“Jay…”
I wanted him so much. His strong, muscled hands were busy turning me, though, and I let him, pliant under his touch. He gently stroked down my back, massaging me until I thought every part of my body had turned to mush.
Then, just as I thought I couldn’t wait any longer, he entered me.
I shouted in surprise as his hard cock penetrated me and filled me. He was moaning too, gasping and shuddering as he entered me and pushed into me and moved back and pushed in.
I was panting, slamming back into him, my body so close to climax that I couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, couldn’t breathe…
I came, yelling out in bliss.
“Turn over?” he whispered.
I urgently twisted round and he pulled out and then pushed in again instantly. I lay facing him now, my eyes on his. He pushed in and pulled out and pushed in and pulled out and I could see the tension in his face and hear his breath.
He yelled, too, as he climaxed. Then he collapsed on me, shuddering.
I wrapped my arms around him and held him close.
He lay there on my chest, almost asleep. I must have drifted off to sleep myself, because when I awoke he was beside me, one hand resting on my belly, the other cushioning me.
“Margo,” he murmured.
“It’s dark,” I noted.
He smiled. “It is. I don’t know what the time is?”
“Late?”
“Mm. Time to move.”
“Time to get into bed,” I said.
We moved under the covers as it had got cooler during the night. Then we kissed. We slept.
I woke up the next morning with that delicious ache in my belly and a smile on my face. I was beside Jay and we were together. For good, for a change. We kissed.
EPILOGUE
I looked up at the ceiling. It was the old piece of the ceiling, the bit with the faint stain on it. I smiled.
“Good morning.”
Beside me, Jay stirred. His eyes opened and then shut again.
“Good morning.”
I snuggled up close. We had been married for a year now. Jay had been working, then, as a journalist, for just over a year. We had just attended a gala together, celebrating the launch of a new product by Realtone.
“My lovely woman,” he murmured into my hair. “You looked so beautiful—I felt so proud.”
I chuckled. “I felt proud too.”
Everywhere we went together, I had so much pride when I walked beside him. He had recently launched his biography, and it had been such a hit that he was touring, talking about his recovery and experiences. I knew what an inspiration he was for people who had lost the use of their legs. I was so proud.
“You’re sweet,” he said. His hands stroked my belly, sending trails of fire down into my body. I moaned and let my legs part as he moved lower, stroking.
Later, when we had made love, I lay still beside him. I was lost in the sweet bliss of our post lovemaking glow.
“You know,” he whispered as we lay there together.
“You know what?” I asked sleepily.
“You never did explain it to me.”
“Explain what?”
He chuckled. “The bed. Why you moved it.”
“Oh. I grinned. We had spent the first night after our marriage in this bed, over on the other wall. The next morning, almost the first thing I had done—straight after making love—was to move it here.
“Well?”
I laughed. “You see that stain?”
He looked. “Mm?”
“Well,” I carried on. I was blushing now, not sure how he would take it. “The first night we were here—after you came back—I was lying here, like I am now, and I looked up at the ceiling. Saw that stain.”
“Mm?” he asked.
“Well,” I continued. “The next morning, I rearranged everything.”
“Why?” he frowned.
“I reckoned you wouldn’t be back,” I said, smiling now at the memory, crazy as it was that either of us ever thought this way. “And so I simply couldn’t lie here like this every morning. I’d miss you too much. So I moved everything so I couldn’t possibly remember. Couldn’t miss you.”
He shifted under me. I waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, I opened my eyes.
He was looking down into my face, his blue eyes wide and round with complete disbelief.
“Margo.”
I frowned. “What?”
“How could you even think that I wanted to leave you? I never did.”
I chuckled. “You could say the same thing, mister.”
He laughed. “I know. I was dumb. I’m sorry.”
“So was I,” I whispered. “I guess I didn’t know what love was. What it meant.”
He let out a long breath. “Me either.”
We lay there with the sun streaming in through the windows, warming us. I closed my eyes and let my heart expand with the wonder of it all.
I knew so much now. I knew that love didn’t care about appearances, or duties, or even about words. It was beyond words, beyond
looks, beyond flesh.
Love was that moment when our eyes met and we smiled, or the feel of a hand in the darkness. It was a shared laugh and a knowing smile and that sense that, no matter what happened, my soul’s home was somewhere in those blue eyes.
That was love.
That was, quite simply, forever.
The End
P.S. Included in this book is a never before published romance story Taken – A Mafia Romance. Click on the next page and continue reading!
EXCLUSIVE: TAKEN, A MAFIA ROMANCE
CHAPTER ONE
AYA
Carefully prodding the dark purple blotch that spread across the right side of my face, my fingers trembled violently. My heart beat dangerously fast against my ribs, pummeling the bones while my lungs struggled to take shallow, weak breaths. Under the bright, white lights of the bathroom the person in the mirror looked disgusting and pathetic.
“Aya! Get your ass out here and clean up for my guests!” Blanching at the hoarse, brittle shout, I sucked in air through my teeth. Goosebumps formed on my bare arms and across my chest as a bolt of fear pierced my heart. I caught my own eyes in my reflection, my orbs bright and shimmering from tears that were always building but never fell. Red lined my eyelashes, and if I looked close enough I could see a faint, tiny white mark on the side of my nose.
It was the only physical scar I had. Sliding to my bruised cheek, my eyes burned as the flesh ached and throbbed. Every piece of me was tender, like a slab of chicken that had been beat until it was so thin it was see through.
Shuffling slowly from the old, run down bathroom of this decrepit apartment, my legs struggled with each small step I made. The thin board someone called a door creaked loudly as I pushed it open, and I couldn’t help but wince again. Even such an ordinary sound gyrated against my ear drums like sand paper. A thick, wet wall of heat rushed to greet me, and I gulped down the tightness in my throat.
Trevor was nowhere to be seen as I wandered through the kitchen and into the living room, but my shoulders still stiffened. His phantom touch caused my jaw and neck to tingle, a residue of his rough treatment only hours ago. Glancing around, I pursed my lips together when I spied a tray filled to over flowing with cups, spoons, and forks. Even from a few feet away the stench of cigarettes burned the tiny hairs in my nostrils.
My skin crawled all the way up my arm to my shoulder when I picked up the tray. The smell of spoiled milk and beer wafted up, forcing me to close my eyes for a second. Refusing even to breathe, I set the tableware on the counter next to the sink and resisted the urge to wipe my hands on myself.
Glancing down, I shuddered lightly as disgust swept me in its embrace once more. My shirt had been stained when Trevor bought it second hand, and now it didn’t have a single speck of white left on it.
Just like me. Dirty. Used. Tainted. Twisting at the thoughts, my face throbbed before I shook my head hard. Reaching for the faucet, I ignored the pressure that built behind my eyes as I tried to bottle up what I was feeling. Water gurgled from the faucet, but even that was brown and stank of sewage.
Holding my breath, I washed each dish under freezing cold water. Cuts slit open the thin skin covering my fingers, as if the water had turned to ice after leaving the spout. Globs of old drinks splashed up onto my shirt, and my throat tightened with the urge to gag.
“Don’t fuck this up for me, Aya. You understand?” Stiffening at the hot whisper against my ear, I bit my bottom lip hard as my head bopped automatically. Trevor’s greasy fingers groped my backside, and his breath was heavy as it flowed down my bruised jaw. “Good. You wouldn’t want a repeat of this morning, right?”
The threat hung heavy against my already abused face, and I shook my head. Stringy, dirty, red hair flopped over my shoulders, and I couldn’t move a single muscle until Trevor released me with a groan. My mind turned slowly, my heart hammering against its cage as my thoughts made themselves known.
These guests were important to Trevor, but Trevor wasn’t important to anyone. My brows came together at that, and I gently put a spoon in the drain with blue tinted fingers. He wasn’t even drinking; that was how important this was to him.
When my hands stretched but felt nothing I turned off the tap, leaning on the sink to stare at the drain. Even the clean dishes weren’t clean; there were still blotches of caked on food and liquid rings. For a moment I basked in the knowledge that I didn’t have to use any of it. Trevor had called me disgusting once, forcing me to eat with my hands.
Stepping away from the sink, I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the silence. My tormentor was even too nervous to pace, his usual stomping absent on the rickety floors.
A sharp knock on the door made Trevor curse, and for once I really, truly looked at him. His tousled, dark brown hair didn’t give off that sexy, just rolled out of bed look. Instead it was greasy and shiny, like he couldn’t be bothered to wash it when he showered. It framed what could’ve been a handsome face if he stopped scratching his thick blotches of acne. I was shorter than him by no more than five inches, and an almost foreign feeling settled in my gut.
He’d ‘cleaned up’ for this meeting, too.
Flinging the door open, Trevor’s hefty form tensed at what was on the other side. Watching from the kitchen, my feet ached to rock onto my toes as curiosity burned through my eye sockets.
“M- Mr. Callipicci!” Higher than normal, Trevor’s squeal made me wince as it speared my brain. Holding tight, my lungs seemed to shrink inside my chest as he stumbled back from the door. The barrel of a silenced gun forced him back, and my eyes widened at the absolutely monstrous form that squeezed through the door frame.
The man had to be well over six feet tall, a pure behemoth; he was so tall he had to duck to fit underneath the archway. A black t-shirt his taut shoulders roped in muscles, but the short caps had been ripped off. His face was shadowed in the beginnings of a beard, and his head capped in short, styled, dark hair
“Trevor, you cockroach.” It wasn’t the brute of a male that spoke, and I tore my eyes off him to watch a shorter, leaner figure saunter through the door. This new man wore a suit, with a nice tie and his hair slicked back stylishly. His voice held a playfulness to it, and a tremor lodged between my shoulder blades as he offered a cocky smirk. “So, I heard you’re doing business with the Russians, cazzo idiota.”
No one had noticed me yet; I probably looked like the rest of the house- dingy, dirty, brown. Holding my breath as Trevor stammered stupidly, I ignored the pounding against my skull and the shrill warning sounds that had created it. My legs shook, abdomen clenching tightly, and I wrapped my arms around myself. Trevor tripped over the edge of the torn, decaying sofa with a loud thump, his gaze never wavering from the gun pointed at his forehead.
“Wh- what are you t- talking about? I would never betray you- never. You… you have my word!” The shorter of the two men grimaced, slowly shaking his head at Trevor’s babbling.
“Your word is about as reliable scotch tape, Trevor. Not to mention I would never take your word over proof from my spies in the Russian mafia. Why would they lie to me about you- a worm they’ve never had the inclination to know? No- I don’t trust you one bit, cazzo idiota. So you’re going to tell me everything you know and did for those red bastards, and in exchange I’ll have Luciano go easy on you.”
Turning my gaze back to the beast that stood, rigid, next to his boss, I sucked in air at the orbs that stared back at me. The rich brown color swirled, taking in everything in a single glance even as it left my skin feeling tight. He moved so languidly, never taking his eyes from mine, that I didn’t notice his bulging muscles flex.
I barely noticed the chink sound that reverberated around the room.
The floorboards under my feet buckled, and only then could I tear my gaze from Luciano’s. Trevor’s body disappeared over the front of the couch, and I rolled my lower lip between my teeth. Gazing at the spot where he’d just been, my eyes blurred as my brain started to fry trying
to process what had just happened.
“Ragazza di fuoco-” Jumping back, my hands flew to my chest as my heart threatened to squeeze through my ribs. The smaller of the two men stood only a few feet from me, his hands raised in surrender. “Relax… relax. I won’t shoot you.”
Thick cotton built up inside my mouth, and I choked on the lump that formed in my throat. Backing up, my feet scraped against the wood as my knees knocked together. Every step I took back, the man followed, and a whimper wiggled through the crevices of my blocked airway when my butt hit the sink.
“Don’t be scared. You’re free to go now.” Taking a large step to the side, he swept his arm out before opening his mouth again. “You should leave before the police get here.”
My eyes flickered between the two of them, but the rest of my body refused to move. Nothing came to mind; no command or wimpy thought, or even the notion that this man was really going to let me go.
Flying to Luciano, my eyes instantly sought the gun he still held in his hand. No. No. I’m not free. The thoughts bubbled up like hot tar in my mind; this man would shoot me as soon as stepped a single foot. Shaking my head, I couldn’t hide my shudder as my hair slipped along my skin.
“Do you understand English? Capisci l'italiano?” Inching back, I ignored the questions the man was asking me to glance at the giant behind him. Luciano’s steps were heavy, hard, forcing the floorboards to creek and groan under his weight. Pushing past his boss roughly, he took the space between us in three strides. Frozen, my foot poised to take another step back, I couldn’t even blink as this monster glared down at me.
Leaning down, Luciano grunted in my face before his lip curled back to reveal perfect, straight, white teeth. Grabbing my neck, his tight grip drew a gasp from my lips before he straightened.
“Tell me your name.” The deep, rough timbre that wrapped around me sapped the heat from the room. So close, the little hairs on my face stood up as Luciano’s breath rushed down my cheeks. My feet still touched the floor, but his grip was suffocating. Those tears that had never wanted to fall before suddenly broke free of my lashes, and I took a shallow, gasping breath.
