by Ivy Fox
“Rome!” she shouts, reaching her climax first, making me fuck her even more mercilessly through the waves of the thunderous orgasm tearing her apart, her body quivering madly with vibrant convulsions in my embrace.
“I love you, little liar. I love you so fucking much,” I wail, shutting my eyes and biting her shoulders as I cum deep inside her, my own orgasm hitting me so violently that every muscle aches.
We struggle for air, our pants manic, while our chests heave up and down against each other. I keep her close, brushing her platinum hair off her shoulder, so I can pepper it with small kisses over the bite marks I branded her with.
“Is this real, Rome? Is it all over?” she hushes against the crook of my neck, her voice holding a small trace of the fear still haunting her.
My fingers lovingly grab the nape of her neck, and I tilt her head just enough for me to have a clear view of her perfect face.
“This is real, Snow. Nothing and no one will ever get in the way of our happiness again.”
“Promise?”
“With all my heart, little liar.”
We continue to stare into each other’s eyes as I lean her back onto the leather seat, already ready to worship every part of her. Although a bed would have been ideal, the back seat of this town car will have to suffice for now.
I may have the rest of my life to covet and worship her as she deserves, but I don’t want to miss another second without showing her how much she means to me.
I kiss and nibble my way down her body, saying sweet words of reverence while demonstrating my deepest devotion to the woman who changed my life so utterly, so completely.
Snow is the woman who blew life into my tired, angry body and revived a broken soul while mending my frail, black heart. She turned my life on its head and did the impossible—brought meaning to my empty existence. Her innocent, pure heart wrapped its wings over mine and mended me in ways she will never fully comprehend.
We were both lost when we found each other. But it was in our search for a path out of the dark, that light of love showed us the way. Life’s horrors and tribulations can never touch or taint what we have. Our love is just too strong, too great to be undone by anything this world decides to throw at it. It can try, but it will never succeed. When a soul finds its destined counterpart, nothing can pull them asunder. And as long as I have breath in me, I’ll make sure to treasure and protect my silver-eyed soulmate.
Until my dying day, I will love my little liar.
When her breathing starts to hitch once more, I hover over her, slowly thrusting inside her center until the outside world disappears, and all that exists is our love.
“Say it, little liar,” I hum out, licking her neck, knowing that we are both so close to coming undone.
“I love you,” she sings.
“Again, little liar.”
“I love you.”
“Again,” I roar, fighting the orgasm that is about to shatter us completely.
“Rome!!!” she screams, releasing herself off the precipice while holding onto my hand all the way down.
We free fall together, letting the warmth of the bright lights around us bear witness to the miraculous phenomenon we’ve discovered together. My heart still races when she pulls at the strands of my hair, lifting my head to face her angelic expression, marked with beads of our unbridled passion.
“Forever, Rome. I’ll love you forever.”
“Then let our forever begin.”
Chapter 18
Roman
When we get back to the manor, right at the entrance hall stands the rest of our household. Henrietta walks to me as fast as her aged knees can muster and wraps her arms around my waist.
“Graças a Deus. Thank God, you’re finally home. I prayed so hard for you,” she stutters, her heavy, Brazilian accent coming through thick with emotions.
“Obrigado, Avó. Thank you. I knew there was an angel looking after me,” I tease her, placing a kiss on top of her brown-dyed hair before she finally unlatches her tight grip on me.
“Well, of course, there is. Eleanora—God rest her soul—would never allow such a travesty to happen to you, Roman,” she explains, making the sign of the cross over her face and chest. “Not when you were finally at peace,” she adds, giving a quick bat of the eye over to Snow at my side.
“You think so?”
“I know so. É verdade. It’s the truth, I tell you. Your mother is looking after all of you. Not even death could stop her from taking care of her beloved babies. You were everything to her.”
“And she was everything to me,” I choke out, clearing my throat with a fabricated cough, so I don’t cry like a baby with the mere mention of my mother’s name.
Henrietta smiles sweetly as she pats my cheek with her open palm, her brown eyes gently taking stock of me.
“I know that. But now she has given you another kind of love to fill the emptiness that her absence created. Life has been so cruel in the past, but I know the future will make up for all your hardships. I believe that with all my heart.”
“Thank you, Avó.”
She wipes away the stray tear shed with her heartfelt words, and then begins to clap, drawing all of the attention back on herself, and away from my weepy ass, who’s about to lose his shit, too. Today, too many strong emotions have taken me over, and hearing my mother’s name from the lips of the only maternal figure I have left, touched me more than I could have ever expected.
“Today is a day of celebration, not tears. I’ve made all your favorite dishes for lunch. So go on, malandro. Freshen up so we can eat and drink to the blessing of having you back home.”
“I like the sound of that,” Snow coos, wrapping her arm through mine, leaning her head against my shoulder.
“Where are the others? My brothers and sister?”
“The twins and Miss Eleanor are in their rooms, sir. Once you are ready, I will fetch them for you,” Lawrence announces, extending his hand for a handshake. “I’m glad to see that all has worked out. We are all delighted to have you home,” he adds, placing an affectionate hand over our grasp.
“Thank you, Lawrence. I’m glad to be home.”
“As you should, sir. As you should,” he retorts, and then retreats to his chores of my welcome lunch.
Carmen’s eyes remain glued to the floor just a few feet away, and the memory of her visiting me up at Rikers Island perturbs me once more.
“And you, Carmenita? Have you come to welcome me home, too?”
“Of course she has. But you know my granddaughter. She’s not much for words, but she missed you just as much as I did.” Henrietta smiles, tugging at the jumpy, broken bird. “Now, no more small talk. I’ve got a kitchen to attend to. You have two hours to get settled. I’ll drag you out of your room myself if you dare to come downstairs later. I will not have all my food go cold,” Henrietta scolds half-heartedly before waltzing in a hurry back to the kitchen with Carmen trailing behind her, her head still bowed.
She might not have said a word in front of everyone else, but I know for a fact that Carmen has plenty to say. She just needs to be encouraged to do so. I need to talk to her, but only after Henrietta clears a doubt I still have.
“Shall we go freshen up?” Snow asks with a little wiggle to her brows, clearly indicating that getting clean is the last thing on her mind.
I’d like nothing more than to dirty her up some more, but right now, I need to get down to the root of what still troubles me. I lean down and kiss my love until she’s out of breath, her eyes instantly hooded and in need.
“Go on up, and I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Everything alright?” she questions, her brows furrowing into a deep V in suspicion.
“Everything is fine. I just need to ask Avó about something real quick. I promise I’ll be up in no time.”
“Okay,” she mumbles, still unconvinced.
And why wouldn’t she be? I pretty
much postponed another one of our epic fuck-sessions, just to get the answers to questions that I’m not sure I’ll be able to deal with. But I playfully slap Snow’s ass for her to get a move on, and not worry about what I have to confront next.
She starts walking up the stairs, my eyes never leaving her form until she is completely out of my view.
I then go into the kitchen, and true to her word, Henrietta has baked herself silly with everything under the sun. My mouth waters at the idea of a good, home-cooked meal, but I push my rumbling stomach to the side, knowing it will have to wait.
“Avó?” I call out to grab her attention from all her pots and pans.
“Rome? I thought you were going to get ready,” she says, wiping her hands on the dishtowel.
“In a bit. I just need to talk to you first.”
“Oh? What about?”
I take a peek at one of the covered dishes and see her famous spicy chili begging for me to grab a spoon and bowl and sink my teeth in. She slaps my hand away when I greedily poke my finger in just to get a taste.
“Nuh-uh. We’ll eat like a proper family, Roman. This house hasn’t eaten together since those awful men took you away. Don’t make me get the wooden spoon out, malandro,” she warns.
I chuckle at the way she thinks that can still discipline me into behaving. But she’s right. I can wait for another hour or two and eat with my family.
“Now, what is it that you want to talk about?”
“What do the words ‘por sua causa’ mean?”
“Is that it? You want a translation?” she asks, incredulous.
“Pretty much.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance.
“All this time I thought I’d taught you enough Portuguese over the years to at least know what a simple little thing like ‘por sua causa’ means. For shame, Roman.” She tsks before turning around to check up on the delicious simmer she has boiling on the stove.
I grab her waist from behind and place my chin on her frail shoulder without putting too much pressure on it.
“I’m sorry. I’m such a bad student, but I didn’t forget all of it. I’m just rusty.”
“Desculpas,” she scolds, saying my excuses are just that—excuses.
“I promise I’ll do better. So, you might as well start teaching me again now. No time like the present, right?” I coo.
“Fine. You won’t let me finish up here if I don’t tell you anyway.”
“See? Now you’re learning, too,” I tease with a chuckle, as the pit of my stomach begins to cramp with hunger at all these delicious aromas tickling my senses. Or is this hollowness I feel caused by dread of what Henrietta is about to divulge?
“Por sua causa means, because of you. That simple, malandro.”
My face must pale as I start to rewind Carmen’s visit to me all those months ago.
‘You’re safe.’ That’s what I told her in her native tongue, for which she replied, ‘Por sua causa, Rome. Sinto-me segura.’ She was trying to say that she was safe because of me. Only now does it sink in what she was really trying to thank me for.
“Roman? Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is your sugar level low? Sit down, boy, so I can feed you now. Your brothers and sister will understand, considering you’ve been so malnourished these past few months. I’m sure Holland will be searching for you soon enough, so you need the protein. Let me get a bowl. It’s the chili you had your eye on, right?” Henrietta begins to shuffle her way around the cupboards, concerned that I might keel over.
“No, I’m fine. I’m fine. I could do with some hearty chili, but I really should shower first. Everything is good, Avó.” I try to console, wiping the concern away from her face, while I try to curb my own. “I… uh… I just need to talk to Carmenita first. Do you know where she is?”
“She should be in the dining room, setting up the table. Are you sure you don’t want me to grab you something to eat?” she asks, gripping at my chin to verify my wellbeing.
“No. I’m good,” I repeat, placing a quick peck to her temple. “Just keep preparing lunch. It smells wonderful,” I praise, throwing her a quick wink before leaving the kitchen and her attempts at force-feeding me.
Without a second to lose, I head in the direction of the answers I need. Just as Henrietta said, Carmen is busy setting up the table, and I’m happy to see she’s added two more plates for her and her grandmother to join us. It’s only fitting since they are as much a part of the Grayson family as the people born into the name.
“Carmen,” I hush out, not wanting to frighten the skittish woman. But it seems that my whisper still grabbed her alarm as she lets a plate wobble onto the table, luckily not falling to its shattering end on the floor.
“Rome, you startled me,” she replies, clutching at her chest.
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention.”
She offers me a meek smile before continuing with her endeavor, placing crystal wineglasses and silverware to the well-adorned table.
“Do you need anything? Fresh towels or clothes? I’ve made sure I put some clean shirts and jeans in Miss Holland’s room, in case you preferred to stay there,” she informs, unable to hide the crimson blush to her tan cheeks.
“Thank you, Carmen. That was very thoughtful of you.”
“Just happy to have you home,” she admits, her eyes once again lowering to the floor.
I take a few steps to stand in front of her without crossing the comfortable barrier she keeps circled around her. I take the silverware away from her hands and place them down on the table, so I can look into her brown eyes and establish the truth once and for all.
“Carmen, I need to ask you something, but I’d like you to be honest with me. Do you think you can do that for me?”
She pauses for a minute than stiffly nods in my direction. I usher her to take a seat in one of the dining chairs, while her eyes continue to be fixed on the floor, not once making eye contact with me.
I squat down, leveling my eyes with hers, while lightly gripping her hands in mine to assure her that she continues to be safe around me. However, she flinches away upon my first contact. I watch as she mentally scolds herself because of her demeanor, nevertheless allowing me to hold her hands in mine on top of her lap.
That initial reaction alone tells me more than what I ever expected to learn without asking her the burning question that is lodged inside my throat.
“Estás segura, Carmen. You’re safe, remember?” I repeat the words I gave her back in the visitors’ room at Rikers.
“Sim, Rome. I remember,” she hushes, leaving out the other part of the sentence she ushered to me on that day.
She’s safe because of me.
“I’m happy that you are home, and that the real killer is behind bars,” she adds, and I wonder if she’s genuinely happy, or if she is just saying the words I want to hear.
If I want honesty from her, then I will have to give her my own brand of the truth, too.
“I may not have killed my father, Carmen, but I wanted to,” I confess in an even tone, which makes her face snap up, and her eyes widen. “That surprises you?”
“He was your father. What son wishes such a thing?”
“A good son. A son that loved his mother deeply and hated the man that tormented her. That caused her pain and humiliation time and time again. That hurt her. That… raped her.”
The confession turns her skin to stone in my hands. When I feel how cold she becomes, she pulls her hands away from mine and hugs me at her mid-drift.
“We should not speak of such things,” she murmurs lowly.
“I think the days of secrets in this house have met their end. I may have been locked away, my freedom taken from me, but only my body suffered. The prison one can make with the mind is far more ruthless than any iron bars one can face. We should lay down all that shackled us, Carmenita. Our past cannot define us. Nor can we allow the actions of such monsters to keep us chained to t
he misery. Freedom is unburdening yourself from all these sorrows and regrets. It’s facing the pain head-on and telling it that its rule is over. That is freedom, Carmen.”
“Why are you saying such things?” she stutters, tears already lining up to break the overflowing dam she’s kept up all these years.
“Because I want to be free of it all. And I think you do, too.”
“I don’t understand,” she begins, shifting in her seat, her fear making the need to run away from this confrontation that much stronger.
“No more hiding, Carmen. No more running away, or making yourself so small that no one even acknowledges your presence in the vicinity. He’s dead, Carmen. Dead! He will never hurt you again. No one will ever lay a hand on you against your will. I promise you. He will never hurt you again. Never.”
The words have hardly left my mouth when she starts shaking her head profusely. As I refuse to give up on her, I offer further reassurance, but she opens her palms to hide her face and begins to shatter.
“I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t.” She cries, and that somber wail grips into my chest and strangles my heart.
This must have been the hell my mother faced every day for over fifteen years of marriage. And in the later years of her torment, another innocent girl was ripped apart under this very roof, right alongside my mother, for which no one was ever the wiser.
“Oh, Carmen, why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I did.” Her cries become more hysterical as her shoulders tremble like a leaf. “I told Ms. Eleanora everything, hoping she would help me. I told your mother, Rome.” She weeps.
“You told my mother?” I falter, my palms falling to the floor to keep me steady.
“Sim! Sim! I did, and she promised that demonio would never touch me again. She promised and he killed her! He killed her, Rome! I know he did!” she hollers, her body shaking with her sobs.