Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
This whole situation is entirely fucked up. It’s been a couple of weeks since Journey and I said our vows. My parents are due back this weekend, which means dinner at their house after already doing the same thing at the Hayes’ house earlier this week. I fucked up on that, too, it seems, showing up without my wife and instead meeting her there. It wasn’t the best impression even if Danny and Karen already knew me from years past. Journey told them it worked better for us since we were both working and it was the middle of the week. That still didn’t help the guilt I’m carrying around and continue to carry as I slide into bed beside my wife for the fourth time this week as she’s asleep. Petrov is still walking the street, the threats are getting greater, and the men who were captured on the day of our wedding were nothing but messengers. A damn shame, too. Young, and dumb, out to make a quick buck. They were expendable like every other man we’ve come into contact with. I’ll give Petrov one thing: he’s a slippery little shit. No matter what we’ve done, I can’t even get the fucker to have a sit-down, meeting with me like a real man. The only thing that settles my ass down from wanting to tear this town apart after the threats he’s been sending, which are escalating, is knowing Journey will sleep beside me. A few of those threats are too close to comfort. It’s happening with family members, and even a note was left on my SUV earlier today. No one fucking saw it, even when we had the security cameras pulled up. Whoever he paid did a damn good job to avoid them.
I take off my clothes and lift the comforter to slide in beside my wife, gathering her in my arms, hands going beneath the silk top and bottoms she took to wearing when I’m not home. Needless to say, the air conditioner gets kicked up until I come home only to turn it down. It’s a good compromise for her, not wearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants she used to wear.
“Nico,” she murmurs. I’m an asshole, taking advantage of the softness in her tone, the way she gives herself to me completely while I’m the one working night and day. I’m up and already at work before she rises, and I don’t get home until well after she’s in bed, yet every night, like clockwork, when I reach for her like I am tonight, she gives me what I need.
“Need you, vita mia.” She lifts her arms for me to work the top off and away before going after her bottoms. Goose bumps pebble on her skin as I touch her in every way possible, needing her, needing to know she’s real, writhing beneath my body. I control the way she responds to me, and I know she has no problem giving it to me
“You have me, all of me, always.” I slide between her legs, not holding her in place, allowing her to touch me the way I touch her. “Let me get on top tonight.” It doesn’t take but one smooth move of our bodies, and my back meets the mattress, hands on her hips. Journey’s hand grasps my cock. A hiss leaves me, feeling the amount of pleasure at one movement of her palm until she places my length at her entrance.
“Fuck.” I watch as her cunt slides down my dick, tightening as she drops down, taking me all the way inside. “Ti penso ogni giorno.” I think of you every day, I tell her truthfully, caught up completely in her. My hands cup her tits, thumbs rasping along her nipples, her head tipped back as she uses the tops of my thighs for leverage while she fucks my cock. All the stress, the constant worry, it all slips away as I lose myself inside of her.
TWENTY
Journey
Three Weeks Later
We’re passing in the wind, well, really the night. We’re back to the days when Nico is a late night caller once again. Only here in the middle of the night, barely calling or texting, and on the rare moments he’s home when I’m awake, the conversation is stilted. I’ve tried bringing it up, but every time I start to say something, his stupid phone rings and he’s kissing me, leaving me breathless. I swear if I could get ahold of his phone, I’d throw it on the ground and stomp on it until it disintegrates in tiny little pieces.
“Darling, why don’t we go out to lunch?” Delaney asks on the other end of the line. I have no idea what we’re talking about, lost in the way our marriage is crumbling and trying to figure out what to do. Between my work, his work, and planning a wedding that I didn’t want in the first place, I’m about ready to throw the towel in.