“Al?”
At the sound of Maria’s voice, I turn my head and stare at my wife.
My wife.
A week after her double mastectomy, they removed the drains, and we hightailed it out of the doctor’s office, straight to City Hall. Surrounded by our children, Maria Bianci became Mrs. Scotto and me, I became one fucking blessed man.
Whoever said three times is the charm never needed to try for a fourth.
“Lady,” I greet as I lean back in my chair. “C’mere,” I add, crooking my finger.
Making her way towards me, she leans her ass against the table and touches her hand to my cheek.
“I thought I’d find you in here,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say, taking hold of her hips. Drawing her in front of me, I position her between my legs and lean my forehead against her stomach. “I just wanted a minute by myself before this place got packed,” I admit, lifting my head to meet her eyes. “How are you feeling?”
A month ago, she started radiation, and it’s been kicking her ass. She’ll never admit that though, but I know my woman. I see the exhaustion in her eyes and the wear and tear it’s put on her body. There isn’t much I can do or rather there isn’t much she’ll let me do to help her. My wife is an independent soul and I’ve learned not to trample on that part of her. She knows I’m here, that all she needs to do is ask and I’ll drop anything and everything to give her whatever it is she needs.
A shoulder to lean on.
A hand to hold.
A reminder that we only get one life.
And my personal favorite, a good hard fuck.
“I’m fine,” she admonishes, running her fingers through my hair. “Everything is done, the food is done and the sternos are lit.”
“I don’t want you overdoing it,” I say adamantly.
“I know my limits,” she replies. “Besides, I love this stuff. It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to cook a big dinner and I don’t think I’ve ever actually cooked for this many people before.”
That’s true.
My woman loves to feed people. Every Sunday, whether she’s up to it or not, our kids join us for dinner. Being as she’s been sick, it’s usually me in the kitchen, getting my hands dirty. I’m not complaining, I can throw down just as good as my better half. We still haven’t settled on who makes a better pot of sauce but luckily for us, we got the rest of our lives to decide.
However, it’s not just our kids she’s been cooking for all day.
It’s October twelfth and in a few minutes this bar will be crowded with the Satan’s Knights, ready to ride for a cure and take a stand against breast cancer.
“We still got some time before the run,” I tell her, finding the button on her jeans.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah and if memory serves me correctly, the first lady of the Satan’s Knights hasn’t been properly inducted to her position,” I add, drawing down the zipper.
“Well, seeing as I take my role very seriously, we should probably see about fixing that.”
“I agree.”
“Any suggestions?”
“Yeah, I can think of a few,” I mutter, sliding my hand into her pants.
Silk.
My fucking favorite.
Especially when it’s soaked with my lady’s arousal.
“Name one,” she challenges.
Removing my hand, I slide both around her body and grab her ass. Lifting her onto the table in front of me, I push off the chair and stand between her spread legs.
“We can start by having her get fucked hard and rough on the table her president congregates at,” I growl, dipping my head to take her mouth. “How’s that sound, Lady? You want to get railed in church?”
Nibbling on my lips, she reaches for my belt.
“It sounds crazy.”
“I like fucking crazy,”
“I love it,” she counters.
Sliding my tongue into her eager mouth, she makes quick work of my belt and jeans. Before she can pull my cock out, I break the kiss and order her to lift her hips. Instead, she cocks her head to the side and reaches for the hem of her Satan’s Knights t-shirt.
It’s not the first time we’ve fucked since her surgery, but Maria is self-conscious since the mastectomy and has yet to bare herself to me when we’re making love. The lights are always off, and she’s always covered up top when I touch her. The first time we tried to make love ended with her crying in my arms and I decided I wouldn’t push her. Instead, I told myself to be patient and make sure I tell her how beautiful she is. Maria doesn’t doubt I want her and knows I’ll be right here waiting for her to feel comfortable in her own skin.
Maybe it’ll happen after the reconstruction is complete.
Maybe it’ll happen here and now.
Either way, I love her.
Drawing in a ragged breath, I watch her slowly lift the shirt over her head.
“You don’t have to,” I remind her.
“I know,” she whispers, reaching for the Velcro clasp that binds her. “But I want to.”
In one fluid motion, I watch as she peels the bra away from her body and exposes herself. Like the first time I laid eyes on her scars, I swallow the lump in my throat and weigh my next move. Deciding to go with my gut and what feels right, I wrap an arm around her waist and bend my head as I kiss one angry scar and then the next.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on,” I say as my mouth leaves the swell of her breasts and works a trail up her neck. Maria doesn’t know but after the surgery, I found a support group for men with spouses who were cancer survivors. I wanted to be a better man and learn how to provide the support she needed. While most of the things discussed were things, I already knew and did, I discovered ways to make up for the lack of sensation she was experiencing.
Foreplay didn’t have to be centered on a woman’s breasts.
A man could still drive his woman wild without sucking on her nipples.
Finding her neck, I go to work.
Sucking, licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh until her arms wind around my back and she drags her ass to the edge of the table and wraps her legs around my waist.
“Like that, Lady?” I murmur against her throat.
“Don’t stop.”
Never.
Until the day I die, I’ll always give my lady what she needs.
After all, we only get one life.
Bonus Epilogue
Two years ago, I was facing the biggest fight of my life and now, here I am cancer free, holding my beautiful new grandbaby in my arms and staring at my daughter in her wedding gown. Life isn’t always easy but it in the larger scheme of things, it sure is rewarding.
“How do I look?” Lauren asks as she spins in around the lace train of her dress sweeping around her. Stunning doesn’t seem adequate to describe how my little girl looks. A vision of silk and lace, she takes my breath away.
“You’re beautiful, sweetheart,” I rasp, my throat tight with emotion.
“What about you, Bella?” she questions, diverting her eyes to the baby in my arms. “Do you like Mommy’s dress?”
A year ago, Lauren and Riggs completed their family by blessing us with Isabella. While another unexpected pregnancy delayed their nuptials, today wouldn’t be complete without our little Bella.
“Of course she does,” I say, watching as she runs her hand over Bella’s mass of curls. “Isn’t your mommy beautiful?”
“Mama!” Bella cheers, reaching for her.
“Oh no, you’ll mess mommy’s dress.”
“It’s fine,” Lauren says, taking her daughter into her arms. Squeezing her tight, I watch as she showers her with kisses. “Look at us,” she continues, nodding towards the mirror behind me. “Three generations of Bianci women.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I stare at our reflection in the mirror and feel the sting of fresh tears cloud my vision.
“My only hope for you is that
your little girl brings you as much joy as you’ve brought me,” I say.
“Oh, mom, don’t cry,” she begs, reaching for my hand. “If you start, then I will too and we’ll both be a mess.”
“I’m not crying,” I lie, wiping my cheeks. Forcing a laugh, I turn to her and meet her eyes. “I know I don’t always say it and that I like to give Riggs a hard time, but that man loves you more than anything in this whole world and if I had to choose anyone for you to spend the rest of your life with, it would be him. When I found out I had cancer, my first worry was you and your brother. I convinced myself that I had to be here for the two of you that no one would ever love or take care of you and Anthony like me—”
“Mom—”
“Lauren, I’m going to be around for a long while but if I learned anything in the last two years, it’s that my children are loved, and they’ll never be alone. You’ll always have your brother, but you will always have Riggs too and that’s all I ever wanted for you. Someone who will love you as much as I do.”
A tear slips from the corner of her eye and I quickly brush it away from her beautiful face.
“You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t know about that,” she argues. “You made a gorgeous bride yourself, Mrs. Scotto.”
As if on cue, the door to the bridal suite opens and my husband steps inside the room, flocked by my three grandsons. He’s traded in his leathers for a three-piece suit and silk never looked so good. Finding my eyes, he winks at me and my breath catches just as it did on our first date in that little trattoria in Brooklyn.
Another thing life has taught me, is that a woman can lean on a man and still be his equal. She can be independent and still be incredibly loved.
“Wow,” he says, taking Lauren in. “Riggs is a lucky bastard.”
“Isn’t he though?” my daughter teases as he closes the distance between them. Taking her face in his palms he dips his head and kisses her forehead.
“You’re beautiful,” he says softly. Bella reaches for his beard and he releases his hold on Lauren.
“I think Bella wants her grandpa,” Lauren teases.
“C’mere little Lady,” he replies, holding his hands out for our granddaughter. Like the rest of us, Bella adores Al and goes into his arms eagerly. I watch him smack a loud kiss to her cheek before my eyes dart to my three grandsons who are all just staring at their mom.
“Daddy’s waiting,” Eric says.
“And he wanted us to give you a message,” Robert adds. Turning to his little brother, he cups a hand to his ear and whispers a secret.
“Kitten and Tiger forever,” Anthony announces joyfully, causing us all to laugh.
“Is Anthony downstairs?” I ask Al.
“He’s standing right next to the Tiger,” Al replies. “I don’t know which one of those two are more anxious.”
“Then I guess we better go find our seats,” I say, diverting my gaze back to Lauren. “I love you, my girl.”
“I love you too,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. I close my eyes and relish in the moment before pulling away and taking Al’s free hand. With Bella tucked in his arm, he guides me out of the bridal suite and we make our way to the ceremony.
My eyes go straight towards the altar and land on Riggs. Dressed in a tuxedo, he wears his signature grin. There isn’t a trace of nerves on his handsome face or in his clear blue eyes.
“How did you convince him to take his sunglasses off for the ceremony?” I ask Al.
“That was all Anthony. I think he threatened to break his knee caps.”
“Sounds about right,” I laugh.
We find our seats and a moment later the wedding march begins. Everyone stands and turns to the back of the room. Once again, my breath catches as my daughter starts down the aisle, escorted by her three sons. Al’s hand finds mine and I subconsciously lean my head against his shoulder as we watch them reach the altar. Anthony steps down and stands next to his sister, placing a hand on Eric’s shoulder.
“Who gives this woman’s hand in marriage?”
“We do.”
Chapter One
“I didn’t realize you would be joining us today, Mrs. Parrish,” the district attorney says, tearing his eyes away from me to glance thoughtfully at my wife. Turning my head, I watch Reina lift her head and stare at the man looking to lock me up and throw away the key. Tucking a golden strand of hair behind her ear, she doesn’t respond and for a split second I forget we’re in a room full of attorneys and federal agents. I forget we’re teetering on the edge of a sentence and imagine fisting those locks as I bend her over the table and fuck her raw.
Raw and hard.
Wild and reckless.
Like a ruthless savage, branding her over and over so that long after those iron bars close in on me, Sunshine feels me between her legs.
“I go wherever he goes,” she says calmly, forcing me back to reality. Without looking at me, she reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. “Until you take him away from me and I no longer can.”
To the room full of suits, her voice is strong— her words cunning but I hear the despair laced with every syllable and I feel her hand slightly tremble against mine. It forces my gaze downward. Dripping in faded ink and silver rings, my fingers intertwine with hers. Pale, dainty and perfectly manicured—that’s my Sunshine.
The beacon of light in my dark and cruel world.
Lifting my head, the voices around us fade and I just stare at her profile, cementing her delicate features to my failing mind. I remember the first time I saw her face, the first time she acknowledged my existence. Her dull eyes called to me, beckoning me to dig deeper and discover the heart and soul of their owner.
Her soul was broken, that I knew but, her heart—I never expected it to be as generous as it’s been and I sure as fuck never thought I’d be the bastard she gave it to. She saved me the trouble of stealing it because come hell or high water I would’ve taken it anyway.
I’m selfish like that.
Always taking what I don’t deserve.
Dirtyin’ up the clean.
Tainting the pure.
Corrupting the innocent.
Playing God with everyone who comes into my life. Reina never stood a chance with me as her acting messiah but, fuck if I don’t love her. For every bit of wrong I’ve done in my life, I must’ve done something right for her to stick with me.
You can say it’s because she loves me but, I’m no fool and I’ve lived enough life to know love isn’t always enough. Another woman would’ve ran for the fucking hills. Another woman would’ve committed my mentally deranged ass. And another woman wouldn’t be sitting next to me holding my hand as I break her heart and destroy our lives all for the sake of brotherhood.
It’s more than love.
It’s salvation.
It’s knowing you were born to complete the other half of someone. It’s finding the remedy to heal your fractured soul, to piece the broken parts and make them whole.
“There’s always visitation,” my lawyer whispers to her. That’s when she breaks her stare with the district attorney and turns her eyes to me. I watch them fill with tears and I lean into her, lifting my free hand to her face. I pull her closer, touch her forehead to mine and give her what she needs to hear.
“You,” I murmur, taking us back to the beginning.
Back to basics when two words defined a lifetime.
After a beat, she nods slightly and returns the gift, giving me what I need to serve my impending sentence.
“Me,” she assures.
Always her.
Clearing his throat, the district attorney commands my attention. Releasing a growl, I pull back and slice my gaze to the man sitting across from me.
“We’ve gone over the deal legal counsel has proposed and are willing to negotiate the terms,” he says, sliding a stack of papers across the mahogany table. Before I can lift a finger, my lawyer reaches over and tak
es the proposal.
Still holding Reina’s hand, I lean back in my chair and watch intently as my five hundred dollar an hour lawyer skims the deal.
“I thought he said it was solid?” Reina whispers.
Squeezing her hand, I don’t respond. Instead, I clench my jaw and wait for someone to tell us what’s going on. The room goes silent as my lawyer continues to flip through the pages and then it happens…
The voice of my maker calls in the distance.
You’re fucked Parrish.
“Fifteen years?” Reina shrieks, releasing my hand. Her outburst drags me away from my mind and the two words that we weren’t expecting to hear. “No one said anything about fifteen years,” she cries, turning her attention to me.
Not willing to see the heartache reflected in her eyes, I cowardly keep my attention focused on my attorney, hoping he pulls a rabbit out of his hat or creates a miracle of some kind. He’s gotten rich over the last two decades but he’s also kept my ass out of prison.
Every dog has its day, bulldog.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I struggle to fight the voice inside my head. That vile bitch who loves to drag me down to hell any chance she gets.
“Jack,” Reina croaks next to me, demanding answers. Blinking, I slice my eyes back to hers, watching as she angrily wipes at the tears falling down her cheeks. I know the thoughts running through her head because they’re exactly the same as mine.
Like me, she’s calculating the age our son will be when I’m released and already mourning the years I’ll miss of his life. My chest starts to ache as I picture the boy I’m leaving behind and the grown man he’ll be in fifteen years. I’m losing out on all the moments I never got to share with his brother who was taken from the world too soon. There’s also the promise to teach him all the things in life a boy needs to learn in order to become a man that going away will force me to break.
She’s also thinking about my daughter Lacey, wondering if her mind will withstand this latest blow to our family and acknowledging the fact her and Blackie’s baby won’t know her grandpa. Again, I close my eyes and allow myself a moment to recall her walking her down the aisle, kissing her cheek and giving her hand to the man I trusted most in the world. My throat constricts with emotion just as it did on her wedding and one cherished memory bleeds into another, taking me back to yesterday when she shared her sonogram photo with me.
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