by Sam Mariano
I brace my hands on the balls of her shoulder, running them down her arms. My grip tightens and I yank her forward against my body, leaning in to kiss her. She meets me halfway, wrapping her arm desperately around my shoulder and pulling herself closer to me. Her mouth opens for my tongue to sweep in, dominating hers. A moan slips out of her and she clutches me tighter, tilting her hips to rub her pussy against me.
“Please,” she whispers breathlessly against my mouth, grinding against me even harder. “Please, Mateo.”
“Get on your knees.”
She drops, her hands hungrily moving to the button of my pants. She looks up at me, her big blue eyes pleading. The desire in her eyes tells me how much she wants me, but she sits there like a good girl and awaits my instructions.
“Take it out.”
Ever obedient, she unbuttons my pants and unzips them, dragging them down so she can get to my cock.
One more week.
Vince’s words swing back around and sock me in the gut, but I will them away. They make me angry so I reach down and grab a fistful of Mia’s hair. She’s used to my roughness, so it doesn’t bother her when I guide her face to my crotch and push my cock down her throat without warning. She moans, anchoring her hand on my hip, and proceeds to give me the kind of enthusiastic head most men only dream of. I get it all the time. It serves to suck the sting right out of Vince’s words—to obliterate his words altogether.
It’s the fear, that’s the worst thing. The fear that I have bent her too much, that someone could steal her from me, and it would be my own fault.
Mia moans as she takes me deep, looking up at me. Her adoration is a drug in and of itself, independent of what an excellent fuck she is.
“Off,” I tell her.
She pops off, licking her swollen lips and looking up at me. Although she obeys, she still craves me, and to beg for a little more, she grasps my cock and runs her tongue down my length. “More, please.”
A little smirk tugs at my mouth. My cock throbs, wanting her independently.
This woman owns me, and she doesn’t even know it.
Right now I drop to the floor, and push my cock inside her. Her arms move around me and she holds me tight, like she’ll die if I stop. Like her next breath depends upon how hard I fuck her.
Being the dutiful husband I am, I make sure to fuck my lovely wife good and hard so she can breathe again.
Once we’re both sated, still tangled together on the floor of my study, all feels right in my world again. There’s no anger left. Replaying Vince’s words brings me no discomfort. Now that Mia has centered me, reason is restored. Vince couldn’t have taken Mia from me in one more week. He couldn’t take Mia from me in one more lifetime.
Mia was made for me, not him.
There’s not a single thing I would change about her, even when she’s being a colossal pain in my ass.
Well, maybe one thing. I do wish she’d been the one to tell me that Vince plotted to have me killed all those years ago. It’s a little thing, it holds no weight now, but I still wish she had. I don’t entirely know her reasons for keeping that truth from me, even now. I never asked because it doesn’t matter. As suspicious as I am of most people, I trust Mia entirely. Her heart is pure and it belongs to me. I can’t foresee a scenario in which she would ever willfully betray me, and if I’m wrong, I never want to see it coming.
The truth is, if Mia ever hated me enough to turn on me the way Beth did, I’d offer up my own wrists and let them cuff me. I would let them lock me up and throw away the key. I’d have to. It’s the only way she’d stand even half a chance of getting away from me.
Even that probably wouldn’t suffice. I’ve torn apart the world to make her mine; I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again to get her back. I could never let Mia go, not even if she begged me. Not even if she hated me.
As if to reaffirm just how absurd a thought it is that she ever could, my sweet wife runs her hand across my chest tenderly, leaning in to kiss me like I’m the only man who has ever existed in her world. I’ve never been loved the way she loves me, and I know I never would again. Mia’s love is the last thing I ever expected to be mine, and it has become the one thing I have no interest in ever living without.
Chapter Thirty Five
Carly
The Vegas lights look so small from up here.
We’re at the top of a skyscraper, seated in a big-ass black leather booth at a restaurant Rafe apparently owns. A spotless wall of glass in front of us displays the city below from a safe distance. We’re spectators up here, in the city but not quite part of the madness. Stories below there are men and women betting mortgages on games of chance, lonely singles drinking away the sadness, disenchanted actresses wearing feathered headdresses as they dance across stage, mothers taking their clothes off in front of the lusty gazes of men whose names they’ll never know.
Humanity is below us, but we’re up here where the lights are small and the people are hidden. We each have our own secrets, our own struggles, our own demons, but in this booth, we’re somehow safe.
Because we made it to Sin City.
I wasn’t sure we would survive Chicago. When he was preparing me, Mateo told me Mia had serious siren powers, but I figured he was biased. Obviously she tickled his fancy; he married her. Apparently he was right, though. All she had to do was look at Vince and six months of hard-won ground swayed beneath my feet.
But we made it.
We’ve left that godforsaken house. We’re in Las Vegas so Vince can tie up the last of this chapter of his life, then we can go back to Connecticut and continue building our life together.
I just hate building it on a foundation of lies.
Mateo told me in no uncertain terms, if I tell Vince the truth, it’s our double funeral. He swears Vince will not forgive me, will never trust me again. He swears that even if he really wants to, Vince will not be able to let it go.
I didn’t want to believe him. I vehemently wanted for him to be wrong, for all the work I’ve put into helping Vince grow to hold up, for him to be stronger—to be my Superman.
The thing is, I believe Mateo now.
It doesn’t change my feelings for Vince. However flawed he may be, he’ll always be my Superman. He’s saved me in ways he doesn’t knows—ways he can never know.
I hate building a life on secrets and lies, but I also hate losing everything over something that doesn’t matter.
Does it really matter that Mateo sent me to occupy Vince? People meet lots of different ways. The feelings that followed were real. Mateo had his fingers in the beginning so of course there were layers of manipulation that helped me snag Vince’s attention, but I never pretended to feel anything I didn’t. When I wanted him, I really wanted him. When I told him I love him, I meant it. When I assured him he was safe with me, that I wouldn’t give up on him, that I wanted to start a new, better life with him… I meant all of it.
And so did he.
So does it have to matter?
I’ve decided it doesn’t. I know it’s not entirely up to me and he should get a say, but if this past week has proven anything to me, it’s that without a firm, loving hand to keep him on track, Vince can’t keep his head on straight. He craves the pain and dysfunction he was brought up on; he’s like an addict on the reluctant road to recovery, going to sleep with the shakes and dreaming all night about the very drugs that fucked him up.
Vince needs a keeper. Mateo was right about that. He’s lucky because I’m the one Mateo assigned to him, and I really did fall in love with him. The wrong woman given the same directions to sneak into his heart may have hurt him once she got there. May have kicked it around a little more, added new breaks. Maybe she would’ve taken advantage of him, stayed for the money.
Maybe he would have never been loved again after Mia, because he damn sure was not open to it.
He needed a Lois. Mateo didn’t give a fuck what he needed, but we all got lucky.
I’m just not sure
Vince could see it that way if he knew the truth, so I can’t tell him.
It’s better this way.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Laurel’s voice is playful as she sips her yellow drink and slides a flirty look Rafe’s way.
His arm rests along the back of the booth where Laurel is seated. He smiles faintly as he takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t have to get you drunk. You’ll do what I want sober.”
I roll my eyes, casting him a scornful look. “That’s the only reason, huh? If she wouldn’t, then you’d get her drunk.”
He shrugs the shoulder that isn’t wrapped around Laurel. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Besides Mia,” I offer.
Now he smirks. “By the time I was done with her, Mia had no complaints.”
“For fuck’s sake, do we have to—?” Vince trails off, vaguely glaring at Rafe, then slams back his own drink instead of sipping it.
It’s been a hard day for my baby. He needs a shoulder rub and a blow job.
“Are we going back to your house soon?” I ask Rafe.
“I want to see the strip,” Laurel enthuses, looking over at him.
Of course her request holds more weight than mine, given she’s the one who will be handling his dick tonight. “We can take a stroll through the strip if you want to.”
I snake an arm around Vince’s back and give him a sideways hug. At least he wraps his arm around me and pulls me snugly against him. When I nuzzle into his neck and tell him, “I love you,” he murmurs it back before grabbing me by the back of the neck and pulling me in for a brutal kiss.
Oh, good, I’m going to get some anger sex tonight. I run my hand down his chest and let it settle between his legs. He adjusts slightly and keeps kissing me as I subtly rub his dick until it’s good and hard for me. Now that I know we’re not going straight back to Rafe’s house, I’m gonna tease the fuck out of him. I want Vince unable to think about anything but getting inside my pussy by the time we roll up in the driveway.
“You know what I’m most excited about?” I ask him, still rubbing his cock.
“What?” he murmurs.
I drag a trail of kisses up his neck. “Waking up next to you every morning. No more checking behind doors for Mateo’s minions, just me and you, burrowing under the blankets and snuggling.”
Eyes half closed, he says, “That does sound nice.”
“Mm hmm. Then I’m going to slide under the covers, wrap my lips around this magnificent dick, and suck it so your day’s off to a good start.” I brush my lips across his, then bite his bottom lip.
“A very good start.”
I massage his balls, then rub him some more. “Only the best for my baby.”
That brings a smile to those handsome, sulky lips, so I steal another kiss then slide back into my own spot. He slants me a look of disgruntlement as he shifts in his seat. I smother my smile, taking a sip of my own drink.
Laurel is thoroughly distracted by her dessert and paying no attention to us whatsoever, but when I glance her way, I see Rafe smirking in such a way that I have no doubt he was listening.
“It’s not polite to eavesdrop, you know,” I tell him.
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to be accused of impoliteness.” Leaning in, he adds, “Side note: do you charge hourly, or does he get a subscription price?”
My amusement—and the color—drains out of my face. “I’m a whore because I’m teasing my boyfriend?”
Rafe shakes his head. “Of course not. You’re a whore because you get paid to fuck someone. Aren’t those the traditional parameters for prostitution? I’m not judging, just curious.”
I stare at him for a moment, then look back at Vince. He’s still dealing with blue balls, so he hasn’t noticed Rafe and I chatting privately. Still, I lean in closer. “Who…?”
Rafe rolls his eyes. “Who do you think?”
I growl low in my throat. “Goddammit, Lex.”
“Lex?”
I shake my head. “Nickname. Forget about it. Why would he tell you?”
Shrugging, Rafe says, “We share things sometimes.”
I narrow my eyes. “Oh, I bet you do.”
Now he smiles. “You’re pretty judgmental for a hooker and a spy.”
“I am not a hooker and I am not a spy.”
Rafe leans back, raising his eyebrows like I’m a little too much. “Someone get this girl a dictionary.”
Laurel scoots back into Rafe’s side, frowning up at him. “Don’t try to canoodle with my sister. I don’t care what you do for a living; I’ll cut you.”
Rafe kisses the top of her head, the same way he did Mia’s. I narrow my eyes at him. I feel like he did it on purpose, but I’m probably being paranoid. Or, I assume that until he winks at me over her head. Fucker.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of fucked up, bullshit games you and your cousin play with each other—”
Rafe cuts me off. “Calm down, Vivian. Your secret’s safe with me.”
I scowl, not initially understanding his reference. Then somehow my brain makes the connection—the hooker Julia Roberts played in Pretty Woman was named Vivian.
I’m not sure he’s a man I trust with my secrets, but it doesn’t seem like I have a choice. I sink back against Vince’s side, but he notices the change in my mood. His protective urges come out to play and he leans in, murmuring, “What did he say to you?”
I hug the arm draped across my chest. “Nothing important.”
---
After perusing the strip and watching my sister do her best to make Rafe adorable, we head back toward his house. Vince tells me his dad’s house is right next door and he has the keys now, so we’re going to go over there and check the place out.
I swing our hands as we traipse across the back yard toward his house, but Vince looks distant.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “You’ve been patient enough. I’m going to try to never say her name again as a thank you present.”
That’s certainly more effort than his typical fuck-up gift—and ice cream sandwich. If he gave me an ice cream sandwich for every time he was frustrating this past week, I’d go up a full pants size. It’s not going to do either one of us any good to make Mia a sore subject, though. He’ll think about her from time to time whether he tells me or not. The only way to foster the closeness I want to remain between us is by keeping the lines of communication open and free of ghosts. I can make Mia a big, scary, threatening thing, or I can fight with the strongest tool I have—love.
Being kind and understanding will yield me far better long-term results—a lesson Mia herself could teach in college courses, if only she could figure out her own toolkit. She makes all the monsters feel safe with her, but I’m not confident she knows how she does it.
I guess it doesn’t matter.
I know how I do it.
I give his hand a squeeze, offering up a smile. “Nah, don’t do that. It’s not healthy. I want you to share your feelings with me—all of them, not just the ones you think I’ll like. Besides, it makes sense that you would think about her here.”
“Not just her. Dom.” He flicks a glance up at the huge Mediterranean style house. “This is where I made him.”
I grimace at the way he words it—how he made him, not how they made him.
“Is it weird that I already kind of miss his slobbery little smile?” he asks.
A sad smile tugs at my mouth and I lean against his arm. “No, that’s not weird at all.”
“Is it weird that I want to put a baby in you so we have one of our own?”
“No, that’s not weird either.” I peer up at him, my mouth downturned. “It wouldn’t work, though. That wouldn’t fill the hole Dom left. I do want us to have a baby someday, but I don’t want that to be the reason. I think it’s normal—healthy, even—for you to mourn this loss. Dom is obviously fine, but we aren’t going to get to see him, and that do
es suck.”
“Sucks a lot.”
I nod my agreement. “A replacement baby won’t make it suck less, though. The only way is the healthy way. Process your feelings and move on as best you can.”
“No shortcut, huh?”
I shake my head. “Shortcuts never work as well as taking the long, hard road. But look at us—sometimes the long, hard road can lead you somewhere good.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder, half-hugging me as we walk. “Somewhere really good.”
I smile up at him. “Really, really, really good.”
“I’ll feel really, really, really good when we’re back home,” he informs me.
“Me, too. I’m glad we survived Mateo, but I hope we never see him again.”
Vince smirks down at me. “I would say there’s a strong likelihood we won’t.” He misses a beat as we step onto even ground. “Mia said she’ll send me pictures of Dom. Well, send them to Maria who will send them to Cherie—there’s a whole underground railroad of SMS messages, but eventually they’ll get to me.”
I grin. “Look at Mia, being sneaky.”
“I’m glad you liked her,” he says, honestly. “I’m glad things between all of us ended on a good note. Not Mateo, fuck him, but us and Mia.”
I nod my head. “Me too.”
Now we’re walking along the pool that seems to be the centerpiece this U shaped Mediterranean-style villa is built around. He points to a spot in the pool. “Right there is where we played Marco Polo with my dad’s girlfriend and Mia got jealous.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Of your dad’s girlfriend?”
“She was Mia’s age. She used to hit on me all the time.” He swings his hand to indicate an enclosed grotto. “Right there is where your buddy Rafe cornered Mia in the grotto. No idea what actually happened in there, but judging by the way she fled, it couldn’t have been good.”
That draws a heavy sigh out of me. “I really wish Laurel wouldn’t sleep with that asshole.”
“Yeah, me too. At least she leaves tomorrow. Then she’ll never see him again and we won’t have to worry about it.”