Page 38 of Saint
By the time we’re ready to leave, I’m practically vibrating with need, drunk on anticipation more than champagne. As Luca leads me toward the exit, rice and rose petals raining down around us, I catch a glimpse of Nico and Caterina slipping out a side door, their disguises intact.
“They made it,” I whisper to Luca.
His fingers tighten around mine. “Family always does,” he replies, and in those four words, I hear everything he’s never said out loud: that I am family now, that I’ve crossed a threshold from which there’s no return, that I belong to this world of shadows and power and deadly loyalty.
And God help me, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Epilogue: Three Years Later
Luca
I standby the window in our penthouse bedroom, loosening my tie as I watch the city lights shimmer across the Manhattan skyline. My empire has grown in ways even I couldn’t have predicted three years ago—both the legitimate businesses and the other ventures that ensure New York remains firmly under my control.
“Is he finally asleep?” I ask without turning around, sensing Lily’s presence before she even enters our bedroom.
“Out like a light,” she answers, her voice still carrying that breathless quality that drives me wild. “He fought it for a while, but even little Nico can’t resist a bedtime story from his papa.”
When I turn, the sight of her steals my breath. Three years of marriage, one child, and she’s more beautiful than ever. Her body has filled out in all the right places since giving birth to our son—fuller breasts, more generous hips, a softness to her curves that only makes me hunger for her more.
“You should be resting,” I tell her, crossing the room in three long strides. “Your graduation ceremony is tomorrow. The young Mrs. Ravello is finally getting her degree.”
She smiles up at me, that same smile that captivated me from the first moment I saw her. "I’m not tired,” she whispers, herfingers already working on the buttons of my shirt. “And neither are you.”
I grip her wrists, stilling her movements. “What do you want, baby girl?”
Her eyes darken with desire. “You know what I want."
“Say it,” I command, my voice dropping to the register I only use with her, in our bedroom. “Tell me exactly what you need.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I want you to use me,” she breathes, and I feel my cock harden instantly at her words. “I want you to take me however you want. Make me yours.”
Without warning, I lift her and toss her onto our bed. She bounces once, her nightgown riding up to reveal she’s wearing nothing underneath. Three years, and she still knows exactly how to drive me wild.
“Turn over,” I growl. “Hands and knees.”
She complies immediately, positioning herself on all fours, looking back at me over her shoulder with those innocent blue eyes that hide a wicked soul. I shed my clothes quickly, my cock already painfully hard as I climb onto the bed behind her.
I run my hands over the perfect globes of her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. "You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?"
“Yes,” she admits, pushing back against my touch.
I reach for the bottle of silky lubricant in our nightstand, the expensive kind that warms on contact. I coat my fingers generously, watching her perfect ass quiver in anticipation as I press one finger against that forbidden, puckered entrance. She moans—a sound that’s half surrender, half desperation—dropping her head between her shoulders as I breach that tight ring of muscle, feeling her body’s initial resistance melt into hungry acceptance.
“Look at that greedy little hole swallowing my finger,” I murmur, my voice rough with lust as I add a second thick digit,stretching her delicate tissues with deliberate patience despite the primal urge to claim her roughly. “Always so fucking eager for me, aren’t you? Your tight little ass is practically begging to be filled.”
By the time I’ve worked three fingers deep inside her, scissoring them to prepare her for what’s coming, she’s panting like she’s run a marathon, begging in broken syllables that barely form words, her entire body trembling violently with raw need. I withdraw my fingers with agonizing slowness, savoring the way her hole clenches desperately around nothing. I slick my throbbing cock with more lubricant, positioning the swollen purple head against her glistening entrance, teasing her with shallow, torturous thrusts that barely breach her hungry rim.
“Please,” she whimpers, her voice cracking with desperation as she tries to impale herself on my cock, “I need you to fill me completely.”
I seize a thick handful of her silken hair, yanking her head back until her spine arches like a bow as I drive forward with one savage, possessive thrust that impales her completely. The stretched rim of her forbidden entrance clings desperately to my shaft as I bury myself balls-deep in her scorching, velvet heat. Her primal scream—half agony, half ecstasy—reverberates through our bedroom, and I silently thank God for the military-grade soundproofing I had installed when we claimed this penthouse as our sanctuary of sin.
“You love this, don’t you?” I growl, pulling her hair tighter. “Love taking my cock in your tight little ass while all of Manhattan thinks the mayor’s wife is such a proper lady.”
“Yes,” she gasps, her inner muscles clenching around me as her first orgasm hits. “Only for you. Only ever for you.” I feel the wetness flood my hand as she comes, her body convulsing around my cock. The sight of her coming undone drives me wild,and I increase my pace, fucking her through her orgasm and straight into another.
“That’s it, baby girl,” I praise her, my fingers working her clit relentlessly. “Give me another one. Show me how much you love my cock filling your ass.”
She convulses violently beneath me, her entire body seizing as a second, more devastating orgasm tears through her like wildfire. Her scream—raw and primal—echoes off the walls as her slick arousal gushes between her trembling thighs, drenching my hand and flooding the Egyptian cotton beneath us with her sweet nectar.
