“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I say hoarsely, working my finger in and out of her pussy, slick and deep with every slide. I pin her to the wall with my body, wrists held firm in my right hand, feeling every tremble and quake as I push faster, my cock throbbing, begging to replace that finger. For relief.
“Close,” she chants, dropping her head to my shoulder as she arches into my touch. “Oh God, Nico…, so close… Oh!”
Her eyes glaze, lips parting with a sob as she comes, clenching hard around my finger. I nearly spill in my pants from the intensity alone. I keep her there, thrusting in and out of her, teasing her swollen clit with my thumb until she’s bucking against me.
The next few moments happen in a blur of stripped clothes, fevered touches, and when I finally slide my cock into her, all sense of control is gone. Her legs wrap around my hips, back pressed against the wall, and her fingers gripping my shoulders as I hammer into her. I’m a savage, greedy for the feel of her, the taste of her. Our cries fill the room as my hips piston faster, plunging my cock deeper into her tightness. It’s heaven. The feel of her. The scent of her. The noises she makes as I fuck her.
Mine.
My climax tears through me, leaving me weak. I bury my face in her neck, growling into her skin as I come, moving faster and driving her into her own climax. I call her name as I emptymyself into her body, thrusting deep and slow until I’ve poured everything into her—my cum coating her slick walls.
I collapse against her, burying my face in her hair as my breath heaves. The pounding in my head dulls, the fog lifting a little, reminding me we didn’t even pause to check out our new room.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pushing back to look at Gabriella, a smirk pulling at my mouth at her dazed expression. “You look—”
“Like someone who just had her world rocked? Yes, that would be right.”
I laugh, tightening my arms around her as I look around the room. I laugh when I spot roses spread on the bed and a bottle of champagne with two glasses on the table. I carry Gabriella to the bed and set her down before reaching for the card next to the champagne.
“What does it say?” Gabriella asks, leaning over my shoulder for a peek. “Congratulations,” she reads out. “Do you know who it’s from?”
“Brun—Ghost,” I say, recognizing my brother’s messy handwriting. He looks healthier than I’ve seen him in years, clearly sober. Seeing him today has brought me something close to peace. The Rossis may never fully accept him back, but some of the animosity will fade once they learn what he did for Gabriella And that’s all I can ask, really. It’s clear Ghost has found his family here and intends to stay.
“You’re worried about your brother, aren’t you?” Gabriella asks, pressing her lips against my jaw.
“Not anymore,” I say, tossing the card back on the table and turning to face her. “Ghost has found his home here. And I intend to start working on mine.”
“Me?”
“You,” I say, tumbling her back on the bed, my mouth seeking hers in a gentle kiss. But I stop it before it can turn heated, pushing back to look into her beautiful eyes that steal my breath. “I love you, Gabriella Rossi. I can’t wait to start a family with you.”
When she smiles, radiant and wide, everything else fades, and I see only her.
Only ever her.
Epilogue
Six months later
Gabriella
Opening an art gallery wasn’t quite the walk in the park I thought it would be.
A part of me—the naive part that didn’t know anything besides painting—thought all I had to do was find a building with ample space and good lighting and hang my paintings on those walls. I never quite considered the logistics of it. The need for a business plan, setting up legal and administrative structures, marketing—and the most stressful of all, the emotional toll it would take on me.
I fought with everyone.
From my well-intentioned but meddling brothers, who wouldn’t stop calling every hour, as though on a schedule, to see if I needed anything, to my boyfriend, who was convinced I would be scammed if he didn’t attend every meeting with me. Suffice it to say, everyone was happy when I announced that the gallery was open for business, and it was only fitting that mine was the first art on those walls.
Unlike my senior year project with a theme of escapism, this collection was made from a place of love. Every painting here reflects the people in my life and my affection for them. I guess it only makes sense that opening night would be family only. A part of me still marvels that I ever wanted to run away from this. Watching my family move through the gallery reminds me how lucky I am to have them.
“Your art will never cease to surprise me.” I turn at Sofia’s voice, my smile dropping into a frown when I spot the sparkling water in her hands. Her eyes follow mine, and her smile widens. “I’m avoiding alcohol for a while.”
“Umm, okay.”
“It’s a secret.”
“What is?”