Page 81 of Forsaken Promises

“Keep going.”

And he does. Dom knows me so well, knows the rhythm that I like, and he finds it, nudging me with his hips, rolling them, not taking his eyes off me.

Time slips past as we make love. I’m focused only on the rhythm of our pleasure, the look of bliss on his face. I gasp and sigh, and he keeps going, a bit harder, a bit faster, until I’m writhing under him, moaning my pleasure at the top of his every thrust.

Dom slides his hand out from my tight grasp and pushes himself up. I watch as he watches himself pump into me, his penis glistening with my arousal, my thighs quivering around him. His gaze travels up my body to my breasts.

His fingers find my clit again, and I draw in a shocked breath.

“Beautiful,” he grunts.

“Mine,” I say, rough and throaty, bringing his mouth to mine. I pour all of my love, all of my desire, and all of my forgiveness into our lovemaking, showing Dom with my body what my words can never fully express.

As we climb toward ecstasy together, I’m filled with a sense of peace and contentment that I’ve never known before. This is where I belong, in the arms of the man I love more than life itself. This is what I’ve been searching for all my life, the missing piece of my soul that makes me whole.

We both come at the same time. The strength of my climax is sufficient enough to bring Dom along with me, and he barks out my name as he shallowly thrusts into me, his back arched and his head thrown back.

When he finally collapses on top of me, I wrap my arms around his slick back, my face buried into the crook of his neck. “I love you,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much, Dom. You’re my everything.”

He tightens his arms around me, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. “I love you too, Sofia,” he whispers. “More than anything. I’ll never let you go again.”

Drifting off to sleep, cocooned in my husband’s arms, a thought comes to me.

“Dom?”

“Yes, Sofia?”

“You really need to get your shoulder looked at.”

EPILOGUE

SOFIA

As we stroll hand in hand through the picturesque streets of Paris, I can’t help but feel a giddy sense of excitement and adventure. Dom and I have been looking forward to this romantic weekend getaway ever since I bought those open end tickets, and now that we’re finally here, exploring the city on foot, it feels like a dream come true.

I glance over at Dom, my heart swelling with love as I watch him take in the sights and sounds of Paris with the wide-eyed wonder of an excited tourist. It’s a side of him I rarely get to see, and it’s absolutely adorable. He’s even wearing white athletic socks with his tennis shoes, something he’d never do back home.

“We get to look like normal people, Sof!” he exclaimed as we packed our backpacks, grinning from ear to ear.

He’s so lucky I love him. As is, I’ve already snapped a picture of him and sent it to Valentina so she can have a good laugh.

I, on the other hand, refuse to wear tennis shoes, opting instead for a pair of cute and comfortable flats that I hope will make me look chic and stylish. I may be on vacation, but I still want to blend in with the fashionable Parisian crowd.

As we wander through charming cobblestone alleys and grand boulevards, I can’t help but feel a sense of freedom and joy. Here, in this beautiful city, we’re just Dom and Sofia, two people in love, exploring the world. No responsibilities, no worries, just the two of us and the endless possibilities that lie ahead.

“This is perfect,” I sigh, leaning my head on Dom’s shoulder as we pause to admire the view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Dom can’t help but take out his phone and snap several pictures of it. “I can’t believe we’re really here, together.”

Dom wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer and pressing a tender kiss to my temple. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be, or anyone else I’d rather be with,” he murmurs. “Traveling with you is everything I ever dreamed of.”

We soon find ourselves wandering through the winding streets of Montmartre, the charming artists’ district in Paris, and I marvel at the unbridled excitement radiating from Dom. His eyes are wide with wonder as he takes in the colorful street art, the quaint cafés, and the bustling crowds of tourists and locals alike.

“Sof, look at that!” he exclaims, pointing to a street performer juggling flaming batons, “And over there, the Sacré-Coeur Basilica! It’s even more beautiful than in the pictures!”

The grin that spreads across my face can’t be suppressed. Dom is like a kid in a candy store, eagerly soaking up every sight, sound, and experience that Paris has to offer. You would never know he’s the heir to the Sicura Crime Family, a Family that has more money than God himself.

The heavenly scents of freshly baked baguettes and croissants waft through the air as we approach a local bakery. Dom’s eyes light up. “We have to try some, Sofia!” he insists, practically dragging me inside.

Once we’re at the counter, Dom puts on his best attempt at a French accent and says, “Bonjour! Je voudrais deux croissants, s’il vous plaît!”

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