“Your vengeance is mine now, along with everything else,” he whispers, touching the pendent with his lips before pushing himself on his tiptoes and kissing my chin.
His words hit deep, so deep they become part of me. His eyes are tight and crusty, his face splotchy, and his nose bright red. But he’s gazing up at me with sincere adoration, his fingers brushing over my chest.
“I hate-love all of you, to your bones and soul,” I rumble, tightening my grip on his nape.
“Can you say that one more time? I need to record it and use it as my ringtone. Where’s my phone?” He looks around ridiculously.
I seal our mouths together until after long minutes he pulls back and looks down at our fingers intertwined over my heart.
My forehead drops on his, and I breathe in his scent. My sunshine and apple, mysole mio.
“Are you okay?” I ask a few minutes later as we finally start leaving the dressing room.
My palm brushes across his. I wrap my fingers firmly around his. His skin is so soft against mine.
“I’ll be okay after a doctor checks you out.” He seems adamant about it. “But I’m famished.”
Of course he is. I produce a small pack of plain cookies out of my jacket; they’re a little crushed, but Art doesn’t seem to care. He tilts the open pack over his mouth, letting three small cookies fall in, and then starts chewing them like a fucking squirrel.
“How about going back home in a helicopter,sole mio?”
His eyes widen with brightness.
“In a bird crusher? Hell yes,” he exclaims.
We really fucking need to revisit this whole winged-rat revolution thing.
Epilogue
LUCA
Ienter the lobby of my building and quickly get in the elevator. I wave at Ryan—Art’s new bodyguard. Even if I’m back home, Art still needs extra protection with Jack Enzino still out there.
I’ve been away in Boston for four days looking for the fucker, but that bastard slithers away like the vile snake he is every time I get closer. The fact that I disfigured his face helped. He was spotted at a plastic surgery clinic by the Kings brothers, the loan sharks we collaborate with there.
But after four days, the trail ran cold, so Marco and I decided to come back. We left Art and Fly alone for too long—phone sex is fucking hot, but can only take you so far—plus the Kings will keep their eyes open, so there was no real reason for us to stay there. My vendetta is still on, my inner beast won’t be satisfied until I put that bastard six feet under, but I have someone who’s waiting for me at home and there’s no inner struggle when I have to decide between the two.
I think back on this last month and how I’ve been intertwining my life with Art’s. I go to work for the family while he has his clubs to check on periodically. Our daily fights always end inhate-fucks. I focus all my restlessness and anger on raw dogging that luscious ass until I have no more cum to fill him with. The concupiscent desire I feel for him is never-ending, and after four days of hand jobs and sexy Art videos, I need the real thing.
I finally reach my condo door, quickly inserting the code in the keypad before pressing my finger. I pass the threshold and glance at the floating new white curtains framing the French windows. There are more than a few little touches Art has made to the place. The green armchair and ottoman near the sofa, the large rug his dog likes to scratch his balls on, pictures of us with Marco and Fly hanging on the walls or sitting on the new sideboard. Nacho has a bed in every fucking room, but still sleeps on my clothes. Where the fuck he finds them is a mystery to me. Art must give them to him—the sneaky imp.
Where is the perennial hot-blooded creature at? Can’t see Nacho anywhere or Art—they usually both jump on me as soon as I arrive. I don’t like this. Just like I don’t like the hint of fear crawling inside my chest. I look around. The sight of Art’s clothes in a heap by the door is fucking familiar. I know he does it on purpose to get punished. I want to smirk at his kinkiness, but what if he isn’t here to get it? What if he left again? I shouldn’t think this way since things have been going great between us. But I can’t stop myself. The last time I came home and he wasn’t here, he got hurt and almost married someone else.
I call his name. But the living room remains silent. Fuuuck. I toss the bags on the sofa and take a few more steps inside the condo when I suddenly feel something hard poking my back. My body doesn’t turn tense. I fucking know who the crazy brat behind me is.
“Don’t move. Now take off your clothes and show me the goods, sugar pie.”
“The pie I brought is an apple one,” I say before spinning around so fast he loses his balance. I grab his stumbling ass, hauling him in my arms.
“Oomf!” His nose bumps into my shirt, but his arms and legs automatically hook around me.
“Luca!”
He has no idea what he unleashes inside me when he gives me that inviting, welcoming smile, like he’s doing right now, pulling me in, against his body, his heart.
“What’re you doing?” I look down at his face as he strokes over my pecs.
“This is my four-days-overdue ta-tas rub.”