by Chelle Bliss
Kiel moved to the side of the chair, his expression soft but wary, and when he met my gaze, offering me a wink that did something funny to my stomach, I realized I wouldn’t have changed anything about how we ended up here. He was mine, and I was his. Forever. There was no more threat. There was no more worry for us but how to navigate my father’s life and the family we wanted together. Kiel wouldn’t be part of the family business. Neither would I.
“Hush now,” my father said, pushing me back. “Let me see you. It’s been too long.” He returned the smile I gave him. I relished the feel of his palm against my cheek. It hadn’t been all that long, actually, but to my father, even a day was too long. He went on looking at me, smile wide and brilliant, and though he looked weak and older, he was still handsome, still elegant. One quick glance at Kiel standing next to us and some of the withering traces of illness left his face.
“Kaino,” he said. Papa didn’t smile at Kiel exactly, but he did stretch his arm, offering him a shake. Kiel took it, bending down a bit to let my father grip him in both his frail hands. “I owe you my apologies,” Papa began, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes at me, a small admonishment he didn’t mean. “And my gratitude.” Kiel nodded, beginning to pull away, but he paused when Papa pulled him forward, refusing to release him. “My daughter, she’s my world, sì?”
“And mine,” Kiel replied, his features firm, sincere. He didn’t try to get away from my father again, and he let the old man have his say.
“Bene,” Papa said, reaching up to pat Kiel’s face. “That is good to hear.” He released Kiel and rested back against his chair, hands folding over his lap. “Now, first you must see Father Michaels,” he said, nodding at me.
“Why?”
Papa shook his head, tongue clicking as though I’d asked a pointless question. “So we can plan the wedding. But first, I want to ask you, Kiel,” he said, his attention turning to my husband. “My son says you are a writer.”
“Journalist. Yes.”
“Why do we need a wedding?” I interrupted, earning a glare from Papa. I hadn’t gotten one of those since I’d snuck out at seventeen to go parking with Alfonse DeAngelo the night of his graduation.
“You will be married in a church, bella. In front of a priest and God and the Blessed Mother,” my father explained, motioning for me to hush when I opened my mouth again. Papa disregarded me in favor of looking Kiel over as though he needed to get the make of him. “Are you a good writer?”
Kiel shrugged but didn’t deny it. “I am.”
“Molto bene. Come,” he said, motioning to the chair next to his. And then, as though he hadn’t missed me, as though he had never been disappointed in me for my defiance or worried over my being attacked, my father moved forward, ready to tackle the next item on the unseen list he kept in his head. “We’ll discuss a project I have. A book, sì? About my life.”
“Papa,” I fussed, wondering why he’d be so willing to expose himself and his friends for something as trivial as a book, or why he seemed so eager to forget I was standing next to him, uninformed about what he planned.
But my father waved me off, as if my worry was pointless. “An anonymous book, sì?”
For the next hour, my father ignored me, drawing Kiel into a lengthy discussion about exclusive, firsthand accounts of criminal masterminds, and how he was old and wanted to retire. He wanted grandchildren and to keep them safe. He wanted Kiel to provide for his bambina.
A half hour later and Kiel was all in, excited about what could be. And I realized, with very little effort, my husband had become the one thing he swore he’d never want: a member of the Carelli family.
20
Kiel
One month later…
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Cara said, covering her body with the sheet like I hadn’t seen, tasted, and touched every inch of her skin already.
I walked toward her, laughing as I stripped off my clothes, fumbling with my jeans as they tangled around my feet. “Come on, baby, don’t be like that.”
Cara shifted her gaze, eyes narrowing as I finally got my pants off and threw them in the air. “Are you drunk?”
“I never get drunk,” I said. My expression was sincere, poker-faced, though I knew that promise was the biggest load of garbage ever. I hadn’t planned on getting shit-faced tonight, but Johnny mumbled some nonsense about bachelor parties and welcoming me into the family. Kane told me to stop being a tight ass, pushing the shots in front of me and replacing them as quick as he could. “I’m buzzed.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, tightening her grip on the sheet, but her eyes skated down my body and landed on my hard cock. “It’s the night before the wedding. You’re not supposed to see me.”
I yanked at the sheet, but she moved, keeping her naked flesh on lockdown. “We’re already married,” I reminded her and tugged harder at the fabric, needing to bury myself so deep in Cara that everything else fell away.
She covered her breasts with her arm and sat up a little straighter. “But this time, it’ll be before God.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes because I was horny and damn sure didn’t want to have another argument about the lavish, unnecessarily big Italian wedding I’d been roped into. All that mattered was that we were making the entire marriage official for her family, even if they were going over the top. Her father insisted, his one wish before he died. That was how he played the entire thing, using guilt to get his way.
“Baby, you wanna see God tonight?” I quirked an eyebrow as I wrapped my fingers around her tiny ankle from the foot of the bed. “’Cause I can make that shit happen.”
“Kiel.” There was no amusement on her face as she spoke, but her eyes never left my dick. “Tomorrow.”
I thrust my hips out, moving my stiff cock in the air, swaying back and forth, giving her a dick dance. “This ain’t waiting until tomorrow, honey.”
Cara dissolved into a fit of laughter, and I used the moment to give her ankle a quick pull, bringing her down to the edge of the bed. She screamed as her body moved, but she didn’t put up much of a fight. A little tugging and Cara was face-to-face with the one part of me she always claimed to like best.
“Oh, hey there,” she said, staring at my cock as I continued to move it.
Gotta admit, I was shameless as hell, but I didn’t give a fuck. I wanted my wife, and I’d use any stupid tactic not to have to go back to my room and jack off like a teenager.
“Kiss it,” I told her as I tangled my fingers in her dark hair. I didn’t know if I’d ever said such dumb shit in all my life, but I rolled with it because she started licking her lips, looking like she wanted to devour my cock. “It’ll be our final sin.”
Her father was old-school, a little conservative despite the bullshit criminal empire that made him rich. According to Mr. Carelli, we weren’t really married because we hadn’t said our vows before God. We’d been living in sin in his eyes, and we were going to hell unless we made things right with the church. Wonder what he’d think about the way his son made things right with the church, or at least, the priest who called Johnny a worthless Catholic.
Cara wrapped her hand around the shaft and squeezed. My body quaked uncontrollably like she’d never touched me before, and I held my breath as she leaned forward, waiting for the moment her warm, soft lips closed around me. The air thickened in just those few seconds, the anticipation getting me high, and then Cara peered up at me, her brown eyes blazing, and a small smirk played on her lips. My fingers tightened, urging her forward, but she had other plans.
“You want me to put it in my mouth?” she asked, toying with me like only Cara could. “What are you going to give me?” She raised an eyebrow, stroking my cock faster and torturing me.
“All the orgasms,” I told her, completely full of myself because of the drinks, but sex was the one thing I’d always gotten right. I could make Cara fucking come like no one else. It was probably the only reason she never went through w
ith the divorce. I’d ruined her. She knew it. I knew it. And no one else would do her the way I did.
“You know all the right things to say to me, Kiel.” She smiled, sticking her tongue out and barely brushing the tip before quickly vanishing as she stared up at me.
I shivered, and my hips lurched forward, begging for more as my cock pushed against her lips. “Baby, stop playing,” I mumbled, barely getting the words out from the wicked spinning that was happening in my head.
“Better not fucking pass out on me,” she hissed as she tightened her grip, yanking me forward by my cock and wrapping her sweet lips around the tip.
I moved forward, giving her access to every inch of my needy, rock-hard cock. “Wide awake now.”
Cara stroked my shaft with her hand in tandem with her mouth working my dick like she was made to do nothing else. Each time taking my dick a little deeper and sending me a lot closer to orgasm. Shit, it felt too good, but I didn’t want to come too quick. I wanted to savor the moment, relish the feel of her soft, warm mouth circling and sucking every inch of me. She moaned, sending pleasure through my entire system.
“Fuck,” I growled and rocked with her movement, unable to stop myself from enjoying the pleasure only her mouth could deliver. But this wasn’t what I’d come here for. I didn’t want a quick blow job the night before we said I do. Again. I wanted to be inside my wife. Possess her. Own her. Remind her who she’d always belonged to, so she never forgot. “Enough.” I gently pulled back on her hair, easing her down my dick until her lips popped off.
She gazed up at me, her mouth in a perfect O, and blinked. “Why? I was enjoying myself.”
Damn it. Cara loved to suck cock, and being a man, I loved how and when she did it.
I slid my hand down her face, cupping her chin in my palm and rubbing the pad of my thumb near her lips. “Bella, I need to be inside you.” She smiled as I pushed her backward onto the bed and crawled on top of her. She wiggled, sighing when my heavy weight hit her, and I nipped her lips, growling at the sensation of our skin sliding together. Then I pushed her legs apart with one knee, settling in for what I expected would be a very long and slow fuck. “Tell me you love me,” I said as I reached between us, running my fingers through her wetness.
“I-I…” she stuttered, convulsing as my fingers glided over her clit, “love you.”
“Tell me you want me.” I slid my fingers down, pressing them against her opening, waiting to hear the words I wanted and needed so badly. I knew Cara loved me. I knew she wanted me, but there was something about hearing her moments of vulnerability that made me even harder. She was always so tough and barely let her guard down.
She didn’t speak, just stared up at me, gasping for air as I slipped one finger inside, teasing her butt also. Our eyes locked, something passing between us that I could feel in my bones. Words lost in time, left unsaid during the years we’d spent apart. Her fingernails dug into my shoulders as she gripped me so hard, as though I might disappear if she didn’t tether herself to me.
“Tell me,” I said, teasing her with a second finger.
“I want you.” Her voice was breathless and needy when she finally spoke. “I’ve always wanted you.”
I rewarded her admission by curling the two fingers up, stroking her G-spot with each swipe. She gasped, rocking her hips in rhythm with my hand. I knew what I wanted her to say next. Something that wouldn’t slide off her tongue quite so easy. “Tell me you need me.”
Her grip on my shoulder tightened as she held on to me, her eyes almost glaring.
“Say it,” I demanded as I stopped my thrusts, waiting for her to finally admit the thing she hated the most. Needing someone was a weakness in her book, and Cara Kaino never wanted to appear weak, not even to me.
I leaned down, bringing my lips so close to hers as my thumb brushed against the side of her clit. Her pussy convulsed against my stilled fingers, sucking me deeper and silently begging for me to move again. “Kiel,” she begged. “Please.”
“Just say the words. I promise your world won’t end.” I smirked against her lips and circled around her clit but never made full contact.
“I…” She lifted her bottom off the bed, pushing her pussy against my hand. But her frustration leveled up when she didn’t get close enough, and my beautiful wife grunted when I didn’t budge, not giving in to her silent pleas for more. “I need you. Happy now?”
Three words that hit me deep. She’d given me what I wanted, and I didn’t hesitate to slide my fingers out and push my cock deep inside her. Our bodies fit together like they were made in one mold. Her soft legs wrapped around my middle, holding my body to hers and my cock deep. “You’re mine forever, Cara,” I told her, and there was no hesitation in my words. “I own every inch of you.”
She nodded, unable to speak as I thrust so deep, I almost lost my own breath. I slipped my hand under her ass, tilting her bottom so I didn’t miss an inch of her lushness, and I cradled the back of her head in my other hand, holding her as close as possible. “I love only you,” I told her, slowly rocking into her, making sure my stare was still locked right on to hers. “I’ve always only loved you, Cara.”
She licked her lips, fingernails firmly planted, ankles locked. “I own every inch of you too, husband,” she said, and there was nothing about that statement that wasn’t true. “I want this forever.”
“You have me for an eternity,” I said, brushing my lips against hers as I moved my hips quickly, rocking us both closer and closer to oblivion.
“It’ll never be enough,” she whispered.
Epilogue
Kiel
One Year Later
Cara didn’t like whales. For someone whose ancestry was rooted in the lush culture of Capri and the beautiful coastal living that city enjoyed, my wife didn’t have much love for the water at all. Which made the move back to Seattle a little odd.
“Porca miseria, Kiel, what the hell is in this?” she fussed, her arms full of a box marked JUNK KIEL DOESN’T NEED.
That stung a little. I pulled the box from her arms before she could tear into it. It was stuff that wasn’t important, but it was still my stuff, and I couldn’t let go of it. Most of it was relics from high school, my old class ring and yearbooks, possibly a garter Melissa Dix had worn at junior prom—I’d kept it on my rearview mirror like a real douchebag for six months after I’d finished high school. There were also letters in that box, stacks of them that I’d written to Cara after I’d come back home, after she’d had Johnny throttle me like I’d stolen something and didn’t know where I’d put it.
“Why won’t you let me see?” she asked, growling when I held the box over her head. The round curve of her stomach peeked out from her oversize shirt, and I forgot all about the box and Melissa Dix and the stupid things I’d written Cara when I was so sick over her and hurt that writing it all down was the only way I got through most days.
Hmm. Maybe I should give Dale a heads-up about writing that shit down. It might get that asshole out of the stupid-shit habit he’d been in since Gin left for Portland.
“It’s nothing, Little Goddess. Just stuff that used to mean something to me.”
“Oh,” she said, stepping back to cross her arms over her ever-growing chest. “So, old girlfriend crap?”
I shrugged, more interested in that belly and the size of her already ample tits. She tried pushing me away from her as I dropped the box and curled my hands around her hips, my mouth already heading for her cleavage. But Cara gave up the fight, making a sweet sound that had my cock twitching. “I like it when you make that sound,” I admitted, pulling her onto my lap as I flopped to the floor.
“Stop…don’t!” The fussing wasn’t real. There was too much laughter, a bit too much moaning in her words, and Cara gave up, letting me kiss her stomach when I pushed her shirt up. “Don’t mess with my fat belly.”
“I made this belly, Goddess. If I wanna mess with it, I will.” She groaned, pushing on my shoulder before s
he fanned her fingers through my hair. “You’re wasting time. Your brother and Kit will be here to help us unpack.”
“So?” I said, pushing the shirt up to get at those full breasts.
“So, you don’t want them to walk in on us being all coupley while we’re supposed to be unpacking our new house, do you?”
“Please,” I admitted. “Do you know how many times I’ve showed up at their place and had to listen to repeated and endless moans of ‘Oh yeah, baby. Squeeze me, harder!’ and worst of all, ‘Fuck, Kit, you’re so tight.’ It’s embarrassing.”
“Exactly my point,” Cara said, shoving me off her as she came to her knees. She grabbed the box I’d thrown to the floor and opened the top, shooting glances my way as though she wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be retribution, the hot kind, if she opened it.
“If you must,” I told her, leaning back on one elbow.
She took out the ring, tilting her head like it was sweet, seeing that dirty gold ring with the stock figure of a football player and the school crest in the center. Cara slipped the class ring onto her thumb and continued to pilfer through my pointless shit.
“Ah. Old girlfriend?” she asked, twirling the garter on a finger. The elastic band was frayed, and the dark maroon ribbon threaded between the lace had dulled in the sun coming from my windshield and was now bright pink.
“No, junior prom date. She wasn’t a girlfriend.”
“Then why’d you keep this?”
“Because,” I told her, reaching for the nasty thing to take it out of her hand. “Teenage boys think shit that remotely implies you got laid is the coolest shit ever.”
“So you didn’t fuck her?” She nodded to the forgotten garter I’d tossed near the stack of crumpled newspaper and flattened boxes. “Miss Junior Prom?”
