Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA
Howdy! Long time no see! First, I'd like to thank everyone for all the well wishes I've received. What's important is that my loved ones and I are all healthy and in one piece. I've been counting my blessings all week, but being without electricity for days sucked. I'm emotionally and physically drained from all this (sigh)
Sandy tore through here like a drunken whore on crack! F.U. Hurricane Sandy! *waves fist*
Those winds were no joke, unbe-fucking-lievable. They shook the house, nearly made me shit my pants in fear. The whole thing was unbelievable. We've (the North East) have experienced hurricanes before, but not to this degree. Wow. It was nuts, completely insane. To those of you who reside in places where this happens often, more power to you! I don't know how you guys get through hurricane season, or volcanoes, or fucking typhoons, motherfucking earthquakes. Any natural disaster, really. Smh. I can handle the occasional nor'easter where we get multiple feet of snow. That other shit? I'm just not built for it. And now I'm rambling . . . It's been a lonely and crazy week, too. LOL.
Speaking of, there's a charity compilation that's being put together. All fandoms are welcome to write/raise money and awareness for the victims of Hurricane Sandy. Maybe we can help the Red Cross help those who need it. People lost their homes, cars, lives . . . People's lively-hood, businesses were destroyed.
The storm caused about $50 billion in damages (last time I heard), a lot of that in my beloved New York, and the death toll is just ridiculous - keeps rising as they are still finding people. The Jersey Shore is in ruins, too . . . half of Long Island AND Staten Island are under water. Skip's (my) hometown, Bay Ridge, Brooklyn is fucked-up as well, other parts of Brooklyn are under water too. Manhattan, everything below 39th Street is a mess, destroyed. Queens, upstate NY, every-fucking-where from North Carolina to Boston was hit! That's a lot of people whose lives were messed with, people left with nothing. I'm rambling again.
I'll be writing for the cause - although I'm not sure what I'll be writing - and I hope you guys go check out the site, see how you can help.
Personally, I've written for dozens of charities - diseases, catastrophes across the globe, and other things - and this one . . . well, I'll be mentioning it for a while since it tore up my own backyard.
Alas, I am still here! And that - in and of itself - is something to be thankful for. Everything else, anything material is just that.
fandomfightshurricanesandy dot blogspot dot com
Thank you very much for reading. I hope those effected have stayed safe and healthy along with their families. God bless!
The child is grown, the dream is gone - Pink Floyd
Riders on the Storm
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Comfortably Numb
Damion POV
For about a week, I kept to myself. My parents called me nearly every day—said they'd cut back on that, as they didn't want to annoy me.
Only, nowadays, them reaching out didn't feel like an intrusion. I found myself wanting them to know I was okay—how school was going.
Amelia was a different story.
I just couldn't get over her betraying my trust.
We were a couple . . . I told her my deepest secret . . .
As soon as we returned to Brooklyn that Tuesday morning, I phoned Amelia. She cried and begged for my forgiveness—said we needed to talk, and I asked her . . . I asked her to give me time, respect my decision, that I needed to work some shit out for myself. We've briefly spoken since then, just checking in, but . . . for some reason, I couldn't just pick up where we left off like nothing happened.
She did what she did. Things changed. I changed.
Then again, my father was right.
It was over.
It was all over, and I needed to move forward, let go of the past.
I've made a lot of mistakes—shit I can't take back, stuff that flowers and an apology wasn't going to fix.
But it was a start.
And maybe . . . maybe if I forgave Amelia, karma would hook me up, and I wouldn't be at the top of my family's Most Wanted list.
Anthony was the first person I called after Amelia. He didn't want to talk to me, although we needed to discuss things—business matters. He met me for coffee a day later. I told him he could hate me, but I was taking a huge step back.
He's always been scared shitless of Sonny, and Anthony told me some things too. He said whatever I had going with Jersey, he wanted no part of. Anthony's hoping to make it onto Sonny's crew . . .
My cousin had believed the lie I told him, why he was down to steal that car and a couple of others. I told him we were all one big happy family now—New York and New Jersey, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
It'd be our asses, and we both agreed to no longer associate or affiliate with any New Jersey fucker.
We parted amicably; however, he basically told me the same shit I said to Amelia. He couldn't forgive me just yet. Now, since we're no longer doing business together, we had no other reasons to converse, and he needed time.
Respecting that, I agreed.
What else could I do?
The only thing I could think of was getting Carlisle and Alex to forgive me. That'd be a start, and then maybe Anthony will come around. From them, I'd move on to Sonny and Maggie.
Actually, my brother and his wife . . . I still couldn't believe that shit. They weighed on my mind a lot more.
So, on a Thursday afternoon—with not being able to shoot by Eclipse—I picked up a bouquet of flowers and went to Sonny's crib. The old lady who lives downstairs was trying to get in with her cart of groceries, and I helped her up the steps. Contemplative, I almost went down to ring the buzzer anyway—wanting to be respectful.
In the end, I just knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" Maggie asked. She was likely just home from school.
"Damion," I said, which was followed by a long pause. "Is my brother home?"
"No . . ." She made no move to open the door. "He had an early meeting at the club."
"Oh." I nodded.
"He should be home soon . . . said he'd be home for dinner. Um…I'm sorry, but I can't open the door."
"Don't," I agreed, not knowing how I'd feel, not knowing what I'd do, afraid to face her. I didn't trust myself, although I had it in my head that . . . I'd rather die than step out of line again.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Getting there," I said. "I just…I wanted to apologize…for anything and everything I might have said." My heart was beating away in my chest, a fleeting thought coming to mind. The night we met . . . the memories are so vivid. I remembered exactly how she tasted, and I cringed—winced—hating myself again.
"Don't apologize to me," she whispered, and I still heard her. "Santino loves you so much—your whole family does."
"I know." I leaned on the wall.
"He was upset—you weren't there to be his best man."
That made me smile. "Really?"
"Yeah." It sounded like she was smiling, too.
"I wish I'd been there." No matter who he married, I should have been there—at his side, like he'd always been for me.
"He loves me, you know…" She trailed off. "He didn't make me sleep with him, nor did he make me do anything."
I clamped my eyes shut, nodding. "I know that."
When I heard someone coming up the stairs, I stuck my head between the landings.
"Maggie-Mags! Open zee door!" Kylie had a French accent for reasons unknown to me.
"Hey." I smiled down at her.
Her eyes widened. "Damion!"
"I didn't do anything." I rushed out. "Door's closed."
She huffed, running up the steps with a grocery bag. "Open up, chica!"
I stood back while Maggie opened the door. She was wearing her school uniform, her hair in a ponytail, and I averted my gaze.
"Why are you here?" Kylie stole the flowers from me. "These are probably for you." She handed them to Maggie and turned back to me. "We're gonna make dinner for Sonny. I'm going to teach this chick how to cook." She placed her arm around Maggie.
I grinned, walking backward down the stairs. "Have fun…be good and don't burn the place down."
"Mom and Dad are home," Kylie said. "Dad's still stuffy and bitchy. Mom's…Mom." She shrugged, and then she dug into her purse for her cell. "It's Gio . . . his mother went on vacation, and he hasn't heard from her . . . Hello?" She left us to talk on her phone.
"Um." I cleared my throat.
"Thank you." She showed me the bouquet. "They're beautiful." And I bit my tongue before I said she was prettier, or that they didn't compare.
What the fuck was wrong with me? I know what's right. I know I shouldn't—should go to hell for even thinking that about my brother's girl, but what the fuck? It's not like I want to think these things. It's not as if I want to feel this way.
So, while I had feelings for Maggie I couldn't explain, felt this pull toward her, I also thought my brother was being a predator—taking advantage. Now I know he truly loves her, he's not using her, nor are his feelings fleeting. My guess? I guess I was jealous. My brother could have any woman he wanted, and he had to pick her . . .
"You're welcome," I said.
She ducked her head, studying her shoe. "Santino will be home by six or seven. You should come back and eat with us."
I shook my head. "I don't—"
"I think that'd be a good start," she whispered, "a step in mending your relationship." And I wondered if the shit with Sonny and me could ever be fixed, rectified in some way.
"I'm gonna go check on my father. If he's sick . . . I'll call Sonny. How are things with your parents?" I asked.
She puffed her cheeks. "Not very well. They know we're married." Now she wore a hint of a smile. "Your mom cried, and I felt horrible—"
"She knows?" I grinned back at her.
Maggie nodded. "She kinda figured it out on her own, or maybe your dad told her."
"Probably my father," I laughed.
"She wasn't mad, though. She just wished she was there, too . . . My parents—" She swallowed, shaking her head. "Santino feels horrible—possibly worse than I do, and…You know how you wish someone didn't hurt? Like you wanna take that away?"
I nodded even if I couldn't relate.
"My parents' accepting us is something he wants badly, but it's mostly for me. We're silly," she giggled, waving a hand. "Whatever."
"No . . . thank you for talking to me." I blew out a breath, glad for that. "Whatever you wanna tell me, you know?"
She gave me a lopsided grin. "I should put these in water, get to cooking." She smiled brightly. "I hope he likes it—we're making lasagna."
"He's going to love it," I said.
She turned, looking into the apartment. "Kylie says she can cook . . . We plan to follow Bella's recipe."
"Even if it tastes like crap, Sonny will eat it. Not that I think it will taste like crap." I chuckled. "It'll be awesome."
"Thanks." She backed away, like it was time for me to go, and I didn't want to leave. Just talking with her was nice. I haven't really spoken to anyone in nearly a week except for Jordan, a medical student on my team—this was just so carefree and shit, and it had nothing to do with medicine.
"Bye." I held up a hand.
She waved, closing the door.
Heaving a heavy sigh, I started down the stairs, but then the door opened again. My heart felt like it skipped a beat, and I found myself hoping. Hoping for what, I had no idea . . .
"Damion!" It was Kylie.
When I turned around, she was barreling down toward me.
"What's up?"
My baby sister didn't answer me with words. She placed her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I embraced her, holding back tears, and a Kylie Cat hug never felt so good. "I heard you're staying in New York?"
She giggled, hopping up to peck my cheek. "Yup. You're stuck with me."
"Good." I closed my eyes, resting my cheek to her hair.
"How are you?"
"Good."
"Be honest." She poked my chest.
"Numb." It was true, only this was a different kind of numbness than what I was used to.
/=/=/=/=/
The cool December air was still as I walked to my parents' house. It looked like there was a snowstorm coming—not too cold, the streets quiet. The sky was cloudy and the sun was going down.
As I strolled along my uncle's block, I paused, standing behind a tree—peeking to see if there was any activity around or outside his house. When nothing was happening, I decided against knocking on their door. It's true. I'd be looking for Carlisle, but he probably wasn't home. After a minute . . . of creeping myself out, just lurking, I continued on walking. If Dad's sick, Unc, Sonny, and Aro would be picking up the slack.
To my surprise, though, I saw Mr. Sullivan bringing a garbage bag down to his cans.
"Excuse me," I said, hands in my pockets, nervous as hell.
He paused, staring at me.
"I'm Damion Cullen." I put my hand out.
He cautiously shook it, looking up and down the street. "How can I help you?"
"Um…I was on my way home…" I pointed to our house. "I saw you…"
"We're not kin, boy. Don't come around here again."
"Whoa…" That surprised me, too. "Santino's my brother—"
"Are you mixed up in that shite, too?" He shook his head.
"I'm…in medical school, actually."
"Margaret chose the wrong brother." He smiled. "You look like a good kid . . . A fine young man." He appraised me.
It sucked that I kind of liked this guy. "You're making a huge mistake," I said. "My brother loves Maggie so much. Regardless of how he makes his money, which…he owns a nightclub. He's not into illegal activities."
Mr. Sullivan laughed. "Have a good night."
"Wait…" I caught up to him. "Maggie is your only daughter." And judging by his old age, I'd guess they had her later in life. "Soon…I mean, she might be having a baby. Although my brother loves her a lot, you don't know why they got married." I shrugged, lying through my teeth, but it got him to stop and listen. "He loves Maggie . . . They wanted to be together, and he did the right thing. They're married by law…" I sighed, not knowing what else to say.
"You and your wife . . . you guys can either accept this, or . . . You can't be happy about losing your daughter. You may not like my brother, but he's a good person. He always does the right thing, and Maggie? You raised her correctly. She followed her heart, which led her to Sonny. You should trust her choices . . ." I puffed my cheeks, rubbing my hands together. A gust of wind shook me, made me even colder, and that was when I saw Pietro's Lincoln parked on the curb. Fuck. Amelia was at my parents' house.
Mr. Sullivan kept his head down. "You wanna come in for tea? It's awfully quiet around here these days."
"Oh…" I thought that was nice of him. "I have to visit with my mother, but thank you."
He reached out to shake my hand again, and we didn't say any more. I felt good about what I did and what I said, though. Maybe getting the Sullivans to accept them as a couple could be my penance.
Instead of going to my parents' house, I walked back up to Third Avenue, intending on continuing to Fourth to hop on the subway. By the time I got to the corner, though, I had a knot in my stomach. All of which made me turn around . . . again.
My feet carried me to my childhood home quickly. After I waved to Pietro, I used my key to enter the house. Biting the bullet, I went straight to the kitchen, where I knew she'd be. Amelia was crying and Mom was soothing her, the both of them sitting at the table.
"Hey," I whispered.
"Damion?" Amelia sniffled and then threw herself into my arms.
And the Oscar for Best Supporting Female in a drama goes to . . .
I tried not to snicker and hugged her the tightest I could—having forgotten how wonderful she felt in my arms, her scent, her face, her…everything. "What's wrong?" I rubbed her back.
"Bella!" Dad hollered from somewhere, sounding miserable.
Mom gave me a sympathetic look and disappeared to find my father.
"We, um, we should talk." Amelia leaned away from me.
I dug into my pocket for a cigarette. "Garage?"
She gestured for me to lead the way, only I didn't want her away from me. I missed her. She nestled into my side while I kept stealing kisses—planting them in her hair, on her cheek, but I didn't know where we stood. Meanwhile, I'd made it this way.
"Are you done punishing me yet?" she asked.
I let her go once we got into the garage, fast to light my cigarette, and I felt nothing. All I knew was that I missed the fuck out of her, wondering what the fuck I'd been doing the past few days—ignoring her like some jackass.
"This hurts my heart." She held her chest.
"Shhh." I rubbed her cheek with my thumb. "I know why you did it."
Amelia shrugged. "What good did it do? I heard that bitch went on vacation with her boyfriend."
I didn't say anything.
"Your mother needed to know. You were getting this bad rap…when you honestly didn't know better. You were acting like this confused little boy, wanting Alex's attention. And I didn't know . . . if it was because of Lauren or because you wanted your mother's attention." She sniffled.
I grinned. "You take a semester of psych classes and suddenly you're Dr. Phil?" I didn't mean to sound like a smart-ass, but the more she spoke . . . Once again, I hated myself. Just gazing at her, I missed everything Amelia, but when she tries to analyze me . . . it pisses me off. And I think that would anger many.
"You know I'm right."
I massaged my forehead.
"Can we go back to normal? You know I'd never—never—repeat anything you tell me."
"You already did," I laughed, blowing my smoke into the air. "Did you want one?"
She scrunched her nose, rubbing her abdomen.
"Stomachache?" I asked.
Amelia shook her head, staring up at me as she grasped my hand. "We're—"
"What?" I asked.
She broke down in tears, sobbing, and then she sat on a milk crate.
"Just talk to me," I said, bending low.
She took my hand again, placing it on her stomach. "We're having a baby."
"What?" I acted like I heard her wrong, my gut feeling queasy, although I heard her just fine.
"I know you're scared, but it'll be okay—"
"I'm not scared." I snorted. "I don't know if I want children." Standing up, I started to pace. "You're on the pill."
She shrugged. "Things happen."
"No…you fucked up. You brought up the baby issue, and I shot it down. You did this shit to trap me!" I was pissed, trying to calm myself down. "I was going to ask you to marry me any-fucking-way, and you do this? I'm supposed to trust you?" I gestured to her.
"You love me—"
"Maybe I shouldn't." I chuckled. "I can't believe—"
"You never used a condom. It's your fault, too!" she shouted.
I pointed to her. "Don't raise your fucking voice to me."
Amelia stepped back, putting her head down. "There were two of us in that bed, Damion," she whispered. "I didn't plan for this to happen, but it is happening."
I nodded, even more confused than I was earlier. "I'm not—"
"I'll leave school." She walked over to take my hand again. "It'll be my responsibility. You could go to school, do what you have to do—"
I stepped away from her. "I'm not a fucking monster. If you have my kid, I'll fucking love it and take care of it, my God." I held my head. "And you shouldn't have to leave school."
"It's not like I'll mind. I don't want you to worry about me and school. I told you. When we start a family—"
"I'm telling you, I'm not ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready, or if I'll ever want one. I knew down the line we'd have to—to make you happy . . . but we're not even married yet." I stared at her, at a loss. "You're only twenty-one. I'm...There's a woman's clinic near my school—"
"What?" Her lip quivered. "No." She rubbed her stomach, backing away from me.
I groaned, wanting to punch a wall or bash my head into it, but I was already nailed to the wall it seemed . . . "How many people have you told?" I asked.
"Our moms . . . your father knows, but—"
"We'll say you miscarried—"
"No!" she hollered. "I won't do that."
"Look…" I had no idea how to continue. "My head is too fucked for this."
"Be a man!" she screamed. "Take responsibility!"
"You mean, fall into your trap like some sucker?" I raised a brow. "What the fuck, Amelia?"
"It's no trap," she cried. "It happened . . . I'm not having an abortion. I'm going to have this baby . . . My dad will help me out—"
"Is that a threat now?" I grabbed her arm. "Get your father involved..."
"Oww," she whimpered.
"I told you once before. Maybe you didn't hear me right. You obviously didn't. What happens between us? It stays between us or there won't be an us. Got it?" I seethed.
"Let go," she cried.
"Damion," I heard my father behind us and I let her go. "Hon…Bella's in the kitchen."
"I love you," Amelia whispered. "I just—" She sobbed, collapsing in my arms.
I held her, keeping her up. "Go…go talk to my mom." I didn't know what to say, so the logical thing was to get her away from me before I said anything more.
Amelia wiped her eyes, leaving the garage, and I couldn't even face my father.
"Supposedly, she's knocked up," he said. "You can either be an asshole, or embrace it." Dad came over, holding my face and making me look at him. "Do you love her?"
"I—"
"No. Forget about the shit she's done or might have done. Do you love her?" he asked again.
"I do." I nodded, gulping. "I'm not ready for that."
"We'll be behind you guys every step of the way. But, son, if you don't want this . . . if this is going to make you miserable, decide now so I know what I'll be up against. I told you from jump. If you weren't serious about Amelia—being with Amelia—to not even bother. You swore you were." He poked my chest.
"I don't know." I sniffled. "I don't know anything anymore and I'm sorry."
He pulled me into his arms and hugged me. "It'll be okay."
"She did this on purpose. I told her I didn't want kids—"
"Either way, it's done." He pulled away. "What are you going to do about it?"
I rubbed my eyes, wincing and cringing. "I guess I'll be proposing that much sooner."
Dad shook his head. "Not if you'll be miserable. Not my son."
"I do love her," I whispered, swearing I did. "I just—I guess we're going through some shit." Overall, I didn't want to cause any more problems, and I wanted to be the son . . . be a son my father would be proud of, prove my worth like he's proven himself to me these past few weeks, always being by my side.
"I don't want you to deal with this. Understand?" he asked.
"Over time . . . I'll accept—"
"No." He had an attitude suddenly. "Not my grandchild. You're not killing that baby."
"Whoa." I clawed at my face. "It's not a baby yet—"
"Yo, who the fuck are you to say when life begins?" He gave me a push.
"Dad, I'm not ready for this."
"You don't want Amelia? I'll buy Luke . . . I'll make this right. And she can…do what she wants, but I have a feeling she won't abort it. I'm just saying—"
"What are you saying?" I had no idea.
"How you feel now?" He cocked a brow. "You might think differently when you let go of the petty shit. Regardless of her intentions? She's knocked up, with your kid." He nudged me again, like he was ready to jump at me. "Don't be a fucking coward, Dame. I'm just saying . . . I can make this right, get you out of having to marry her. But you will be a father to your fucking kid."
I nodded, staring down. "I never wanted this. And I can't be made the bad guy when I told her this, and I was adamant."
Dad didn't reply.
"I have over a year of school left, then residency . . ."
"You'll make it work," he said. "You think I wasn't scared?" He snorted, pointing to himself. "I was scared to death…Your mother and I . . . We—there's no reason to sugarcoat—we wanted kids, basically because everyone else was having them. Well, I did. Your mother didn't want children right away. She was terrified—twenty-three…"
"And I'm twenty-four," I said. "I'm still a kid—"
"You're a man. Get that straight."
I blew out a breath. "I'll marry her. We'll get a house . . . I'll try my best. I don't know what else to tell you."
"Good." He nodded. "'Cause I know," he held my cheek, "once you see your baby? Christ, Dame. You don't know what love is just yet."
I felt my face crumble, and I looked down.
"I'm dead-ass . . . You'll fall in love at first sight. And if you truly love Amelia? A baby, no baby, youse'll be happy. You'll work it out."
"Right." I drew in a shaky breath. "I'm terrified, and it's a shock. Excuse me if I didn't react the way . . . other dudes would."
"No, you acted how most cats would—getting caught out there."
I chuckled. "Is this really fucking happening?"
He nodded. "Mom says she goes to the doctor this week—"
"Whoa!" I held up a finger. "She don't even know?"
He shrugged. "She took one of those tests—it came out positive. I haven't seen the test and neither has your mother, which was why I said 'supposedly'. But apparently, women know their bodies." He looked as confused as I was.
"Right." Now, it was like I didn't want to be upset until we knew for sure.
"I believe you love her," he whispered. "I see how much you do, how you guys usually act with each other. You're just going through some shit right now . . . man up. Do what you gotta do, but like I said . . . don't let fear hold you back. If I'm wrong, if you don't love her, let her go. Do what Sonny and Katie are doing." He shrugged, fanning out a tissue to blow his nose.
"How you feeling?"
"Eh…" He sniffled.
I leaned back on Mom's minivan. "I'll do the right thing . . . I'll—"
"You'll apologize…We'll get the ball rolling on this shit. But…if you have doubts? Try to figure that shit out now. Take some time for yourself, think about what you want."
"No." I shook my head. "I'm on the straightened arrow."
"Straight and narrow." He chuckled.
"Whatever." I sucked my teeth. "When I saw her earlier, all I could think about was forgetting what she did…You said it was over, and it is…She did what she felt she had to…I am in love with her. I just—it's going to take me some time to get on this daddy track." I furrowed my brow.
"Well, you probably have six or seven months to process this shit. In the meantime, you smile and be supportive until you truly are. Fake it until you make it."
"What if she—"
"I thought so, too," he said. "But in the end, it doesn't matter how she came to be pregnant."
"Right," I agreed. "I'll go with Mom this week—get the ring, and then they can plan away. I swore I'd stick to school—"
"That's not changing. Luke'll foot the bill for your wedding. Youse'll get that money. You'll be fine financially. You know? All you gotta do is be right in here—" he poked my chest, "and here." He pushed my hair back.
"Yeah . . . thank you." I still couldn't get over this—him, my father—how when I opened my eyes, I truly saw how great he was.
I was correct in my assessment. He doesn't treat me the same way he treats Sonny. He's better with me. He has more patience. He's softer in a way, more understanding and loving. Before, I was blinded by this hate. It stemmed from Lauren, deeply-rooted since I was that young, and it only manifested itself as I got older. I came to that conclusion, that it was the reason why I was trying to fuck him over. Even if I didn't actually know that's what I was doing.
"You know you're my favorite."
I laughed. "I'm beginning to believe that."
He pulled me in for another hug.
Then I stuck my tail between my legs as we walked up to the kitchen.
Amelia either has a forgiving heart, or she truly loves me. She was sitting at the table, cradling her head, while my mother ran her fingers through her hair. Mom gave me this look, as if she was upset—not with me, though. Trust me; I know the difference.
"Hey." I kissed Amelia's cheek.
She sniffled, staring up at me. "I didn't do it on purpose."
"I know," I lied because I didn't know, and I kept my voice soft and soothing, although I hated it.
For the first time in over a week, I wasn't Damion.
I was playing another role, that emptiness, that weird feeling encompassing my heart once more.
"I love you." She wrapped her arms around me.
"I love you, too." I smiled, nuzzling my nose into her neck. "We'll be okay."
She giggled through her tears, leaning back.
My mother still looked sad, and I had no idea what that was about. But in true Bella-fashion, she grabbed take-out menus and asked us what we wanted from the Chinese spot.
She ordered a bunch of shit, and I needed air, or another cigarette.
I walked up to Fourth Avenue to grab the food. It was colder, and I felt that shit in my bones. I hoped I wasn't getting sick, and I asked for a cup of tea for the walk back home.
When I left the restaurant, I saw Sonny leaving a car. It was parked on the curb, and he had Gino with him. I hardly knew the kid, only meeting him in passing, and I turned to go a different route.
After being knocked down again, I feared the unknown—not knowing if Sonny would embrace me, or keep it moving. Since that would have killed me in this moment, I did nothing.
I got home a lot faster; my frozen feet carried me quickly as flurries started to fall down and disappear into the sidewalk.
Then I smiled and welcomed the warm air when I entered my parents' house. Sadly, my glasses fogged and I could barely see.
That made me chuckle.
"What's funny?" Mom asked, taking the bags from me. "I hope it's not cold. You should have taken the car."
I just grinned and kissed her cheek.
"Geez." She touched her face. "Your lips are like ice cubes," she giggled.
"It's snowing out there." I rubbed my hands together, but then I stopped her before she could get too far. "Why..." I wanted to ask why she looked so down. "Why the frown?" I thought out of everyone, she'd be delighted that Amelia was pregnant—the way she goes nuts when babies are mentioned. Fuck. Both my parents. The way they are with babies, I'm surprised there aren't more of us, why I don't have five more siblings. They certainly have the means. Dad could buy an island somewhere with all the dough he has, fill that shit up with orphans or some crap.
"Something doesn't feel right," she sighed, staring up at me. "I don't know. You should go to the doctor with her. I mean, maybe her symptoms are real . . . Amelia's not saying much about this pregnancy, besides the fact that she is pregnant."
I nodded. "I won't lie. I'm hoping she isn't," I whispered. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize for how you feel, baby." She placed the bags down and wrapped her arms around me. "I've missed you. You had us so scared." She was weeping, which broke my heart.
"Mom..."
She leaned away to smack the back of my head. "If you ever scare me like that again...ever!" She waved her finger. "I'll kill you myself. I brought you into this world, Damion. I can take you out!" She wasn't fucking around either.
I tried not to laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."
"You don't know." She snorted. "Be afraid..." She grabbed the bags and trudged up the steps.
"I'm petrified." I smiled to myself.
"Good."
"I love you," I said.
She grinned at me from over her shoulder. "I love you, too, my Dame-y Bear. Grab some paper plates and get your dad. He's well enough to bust your balls, he can eat at the table."
As I took off my coat, I walked toward the pantry.
"You're back." Amelia wore a bright smile.
I nodded, not saying anything, wanting to get through this dinner and leave—have time to process whatever-the-fuck by myself.
Dad joined us for dinner, still in his PJs, and Kylie came home a little while later. My sister was none the wiser about a lot of things while she broke down every single part of her day for Mom and Dad . . . every single minute.
They'd nod and smile when they were supposed to, and Kylie just kept going. It was a nice meal, passed by without any fanfare.
Since I had pre-rounds tomorrow morning, and I'd already fucked up and missed too many days, I was eager to leave early. Jordan, the other medical student on my team, has been helping me catch up, has had my back since the beginning of the year, and I wasn't allowed any more screw-ups.
Mom suggested I stay the night, someone would drive me.
But I declined. My best bet in a snowstorm is the subway any-fucking-way.
Amelia and Pietro gave me a ride to the station, and my girl was sad to see me go.
"I've missed you so much," she whispered, shivering a bit. We'd left the car, and I opened my jacket to cover her with it—despite her wearing a coat.
"I missed you, too."
"You don't," she cried.
I sighed, slumping my shoulders. "Cut it out, with the tears already."
"Just don't lie to me. Do anything but lie. We don't lie," she said.
"Okay." I nodded. "I don't know how to act or how to be, but I did miss you."
"Until I told you about the baby . . . Where did that fire go?" she whispered. "That...intensity?"
"How many weeks are you?" I asked.
She shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Because of the pills, I still got my period although it was light." She looked away from me.
"All this shit about honesty…" I thought she might be lying. "Amelia—"
"Can I stay with you?" She hugged me tighter. "I've missed this." Her hand snuck down to palm my cock.
I grabbed her hand. "Amelia—"
"My doctor's appointment is next Friday. You can come with me."
"Right." I cleared my throat.
"Can we go to that hotel?" She pointed, and I didn't have to look. The only hotel in Bay Ridge is The Gregory, which was two blocks away. She could see it from here—that big sign.
"No." Even lonely and horny as fuck, my head just wasn't in that. "I'm trying to focus on school. You know? I'm not interested in flunking out, and having to-to dive into the family biz. Understand?" I cocked a brow. It was all fun when it was for shits and giggles, but I'd hate to be forced into my father's business.
She jutted her lip out. "I just want to spend more time with you. We can just…" She gave me this look, yet her flirtations did nothing for me. They used to—used to drive me fucking crazy. "I wanna fuck. You'll deny me that?"
"Look—"
"An hour." She rubbed her hands up my chest. "Again, what happened to that fire?" Her lip quivered and she bit it down, and I was so tired of the crying—all the fucking crying, myself included. "There was a time when you wouldn't let me leave."
"You want that?" I snorted. "You want me to fuck you and then we part ways? I'm telling you I can't do this tonight. I have to be at the hospital early tomorrow."
"But—"
"We can spend almost the whole weekend together." I kissed her hand, hoping I'd be different by Friday.
"What kind of man are you? I'm telling you I have needs. What if—"
"Fine," I relented. She was trying to push my buttons, get a reaction out of me, and I wasn't down to play that game. "Jesus Christ. Get rid of Pete for a bit—an hour." I was pissed as I walked away from her, toward the hotel.
Amelia was fast to catch up with me, and then I smoked a cigarette outside of the hotel while she got the room.
All I wanted to do was go back to my dorm, and I didn't know why she couldn't let me. I needed time to think and check myself . . .
I didn't want to hurt her, or say something I wouldn't mean . . . or say things I would mean.
But she pushes and when she does, it's always best I do things her way. Especially in this moment when I couldn't deal, when I might lash out . . .
"Damion." She grinned at me, poking her head outside.
I flicked my smoke into the street and then followed after her. Our room was small and on the second floor. There was a king-sized bed and a tiny table, a TV near the wall. "Nice." I'd never been here before, been inside.
"Yeah, nice." She tore off her coat and her blouse fell to the ground after. "I've missed you…everything about you." She sat on the bed to unzip her boots.
I watched her, a crooked smirk on my lips.
"I've been so horny. It's just—us, you know?" She held her stomach, coming toward me and undoing her jeans. She was fast to kick them off along with her panties.
"Yeah…I had a lot of time think."
"Not now." She threw her bra across the room.
"Yes, now." I averted my gaze, feeling calm, thinking maybe we should . . . maybe we could talk and not get carried away.
Amelia placed her hand on my mouth. "I love you and I forgive you—everything you said to me. I know you were hurting, and it's okay. I hope—we're really getting married?"
"Um—"
She jumped at me, crashing her mouth to mine, and I went with it. I brought her over to the bed, placed her down and hovered over her as our tongues tangled.
Amelia kissed me so deep, moaning, the passion coming off of her in waves, and yet . . .
Don't get me wrong. She was kissing me right, and my cock was hard, but something was amiss. I didn't feel . . .
I didn't feel.
Maybe I couldn't.
Maybe this was too soon, and my thoughts weren't as together as they had been.
As she fumbled to undo my pants, I yearned for that comfort I felt during a ten-minute conversation in Sonny's hallway.
Fucking Maggie.
I collapsed to my side, staring at the ceiling and panting for air.
"What?" Amelia shouted.
"Huh?" I huffed a breath.
"What did you just say?" There was fire in her eyes, and I had no idea what she was talking about. "She didn't want you. Maggie doesn't love you. She loves Santino—not you. What is it with you and her?"
I leaned up on my elbows. "Uh—"
"She married your brother—a real man." She left the bed. "What is wrong with you?"
My chest felt tight and I rubbed the ache out.
"You're still a boy." She was crying again. "You can't—Damion, you're an adult. You have to grow up—" She looked away from me. "How can you still want her?"
"What are you talking about?" I realized, thought I might have said Maggie's name, and for that . . .
I wished I still had a nine, so I could blow my fucking head off.
"I don't give a fuck…I mean, no. We're pregnant. I'm having your baby." She started to pace. "I love you too much, and you make me insane," she whimpered. "I was never like this…You made me this way; meanwhile, you can't even fuck me. What is that?"
"All I did was ask you to marry me. I don't know what you're talking about…" I trailed off, hoping I could spin this, do something. I was stuck with my mouth open, my eyes wide, and my heart in my throat.
And the things she'd said . . . those hurtful things.
I've been walking around angry for months, hate in my heart. And while I thought I was being manly, I wasn't.
I could walk like a man, but I couldn't be a man. It made little sense to me.
"What?" Now she looked confused, dropping her pants by her feet.
As my heart broke, I sat up to take her hand into mine. "I asked you to marry me. Maybe I mumbled." I shrugged. "But if you feel this way, if you dislike the person I am—" I was at a loss, hoping she'd give me the out I so clearly needed, hoping she'd give me time, hoping she'd take those words back.
"I thought…I thought you said—"
I palmed her cheek. "I said 'marry me'." My voice broke.
"Really?"
I nodded, not trusting my words, hoping she'd take my emotions as something different.
She squealed, throwing herself at me again.
Once more, I went with it—letting Amelia run this show. And I wasn't a man. If I was, I would have been straight with her, told her all the things I'd hoped she'd give me—time. I needed some fucking time. There's no way I can blame her for refusing me the things I never asked for.
Once more, I wasn't someone my father or my family could be proud of.
"What's wrong?" She palmed my flaccid cock, and things couldn't get any worse than this.
"I just—I was thinking and—" I jolted when she placed me in her mouth, sucking me back deep, and I squinted my eyes—my hand reaching to mess her hair, cover part of her face.
The dark hair, the small frame, if I looked at her a certain way . . .
I lay back, just closing my eyes and picturing someone else. And although that image made my stomach churn—because of how wrong it was—it got me going, made my dick harden.
"There we go," she giggled, sloppily jacking it. "Hmmm…I missed this cock."
"Shut up." I pushed into her mouth again, pulling her hair, which made her moan. "C'mere." I grabbed onto her arms to bring her over to my side.
"Take off your sweater—" She'd started to do it for me, but I took both of her hands, bringing them above her head.
"Don't move," I whispered, spreading her thighs with my knees.
She squirmed below me, anticipation in her eyes. "Eat me."
"No," I said, thrusting into her hard, closing my eyes.
"Fuck—Damion!"
I placed my hand over her mouth, resting my forehead to her neck as my hips picked up a rhythm. "Just let me…" I groaned, leaving my one hand on her lips, while my other bunched her dark locks in my hand, rubbing my face into it.
Her words were muffled, moaning in pleasure, and I picked up the pace—going faster and faster, seeing those big, innocent eyes behind my lids . . .
My hold on her mouth must have gone limp. She'd moved my hand to shout out my name, but I didn't want to hear it—not that voice. She ruined what I had going. "Shut up," I groaned, lifting her legs to get in deeper, my hands snaking around her arms to hold her shoulders.
The more sounds she'd make, the faster and harder I'd go. It was a scary feeling, needing to prove myself, my manhood, wanting to cause her pain and fuck her well at once.
"Slow down. Dam-Damion, you're hurting me."
"Take it." I didn't want to see her face, so I turned it away, biting down onto her shoulder when I felt my orgasm come to a head. I came deep inside of her, exhausted, and yet I didn't enjoy it at all.
Spent, I rolled over to stare at the ceiling, and for the thousandth time I had no words . . . nothing to say as I caught my breath.
"Um…" Amelia was the first to speak. "That was amazing." She nestled into my side. "You must have missed me."
I swallowed, not saying anything.
"I came so hard," she sighed, lying through her teeth.
"Good," I said, looking toward the window. It was really dark, the light snow had turned into gigantic flakes, and I was sure there was some on the ground. "I should go."
"What?" She sat up to stare down at me.
"I told you before." I left the bed, zipping my pants and fixing my belt. I hadn't even discarded all of my clothes.
"I thought…"
"I want to marry you." Another lie, although I wasn't truly sure. "I'm different—fucked in the head. I need time, but that . . . I want us to work, and you can't give me what I need. You wanted to get fucked…there you go." I shrugged.
She threw a pillow at me. "I hate you."
I grabbed my coat, leaving without another word.
"Damion!" she shouted down the hall.
I slumped my shoulders, hanging my head. "I'll call you."
"Damion!"
I didn't bother to turn around before I stomped down the stairs to the street.
One thing was for sure—baby or no baby—Amelia and I were fucked.
/=/=/=/=/=/
SONNY
/=/=/=/=/=/
When I left Gino's whip, he followed after me. He was going to be Maggie's new driver, so I wanted to introduce them. He's a nice kid. Actually, he's my Aunt Alex's little cousin. Carlisle approached me with the idea last week after we came back from Platts. Apparently, the sit-down I canceled with Ronnie was about this kid, too. Then he had to reschedule and shit came up . . . My uncle eventually just came to me.
When I was still worried about Dame—no matter what he was saying while we were upstate—Carlisle needed me to give the kid a job. Prior to this, he'd been working his way up on Anton's crew. It wasn't working out; the kid had no means to make that extra paper. Gino has heart, would protect my girl, but there was some kind of beef as well—with he and Anton. I didn't get into that shit, just tried to figure out how I could utilize him.
To and from school? That's my job, something I enjoy doing, but it's not something I can always do. Other than that? Gino's to chill outside the apartment, wait and see if Maggie has to go somewhere.
"The wifey's quiet." I chuckled. "But I'd appreciate your silence, understand? You're around to protect her, nothing else. If she asks you something? You can answer, but no personal shit."
"Yes, sir."
"Bet." I patted his back, turning for our apartment. That was when I saw Vito, and then I knew Kylie was upstairs. "What's up?" I jerked my chin.
Vito was leaning back against his car, reading the newspaper. "Baby girl's coming down now."
As soon as he said that, my sister came out of my apartment building. "Sonny!" She greeted me with open arms. "Who's this?" She raised a brow, staring Gino up and down. "You look familiar."
Gino didn't say anything, taking his vow of silence a little prematurely.
"That's Alex's cousin," I said.
Kylie gasped. "My mom made me dance with you at Anton's wedding. What was that, five years ago?" She snorted. "Looks like you've grown up."
"Check you out." I raised a brow. She looked like she was checking him out.
She put her hands up. "I'm outtie."
"Right." I kissed her hair and then Vito ushered her into the car. "What were you doing here?"
She grinned. "I promised Mom and Dad I'd be home for dinner. Dame and Amelia are there. Mom asked if you guys would come, too, but…" She looked up. "Maggie has a surprise for you. Good thing you're early. It won't get cold." She winked.
I didn't say anything as she closed the back door. "Get home safe."
Truth be told, I just couldn't wait to get home to my bride. I missed the fuck out of her.
No one understands. Even Dame and Dad stared at me after I clipped Lauren. They couldn't believe I could do it. I honestly didn't care. The way I do shit, I get it done and put it out of my mind. It's the only way I know how to compartmentalize. Just because I don't like to do hits doesn't mean I won't—if I have to.
Bottom line, she did rape my brother when he was just a kid. Even at fourteen, he was still reading his comics, his books, and drawing his little pictures. After thinking and reminiscing, it was around that time when that all stopped—when he started to seclude himself. Back then at, like I said, fourteen, he was still babied and treated like one. Maybe I was being a heartless bastard before. And I still haven't forgiven him, but . . . whacking Lauren himself wasn't going to help him. I knew that much, and I did what I had to. My only hope is that Damion lets go of the past and grows up.
When I got home to Maggie that night? I just hugged her tight, snuggled with her for hours. She knew something was up—asked me if I wanted to go to confession. She's hilarious.
Katie called me crying, saying her mother took off with her new boyfriend—which makes me think he's in a hollow ditch someplace, too—and she couldn't get her on her cell. She asked me to use my connects and find Lauren. To placate her, I said I would. Maybe I was a dick, but I was all like, "Well, I hope she's around for when you give birth. I told you she wasn't into your pregnancy."
And then Katie cried her eyes out . . .
As far as I know, AJ's been running both restaurants, and no authorities have asked any questions. The Feds haven't even been around, even after Mom got pinched. The cops who'd arrested her were keeping it all under wraps. Pop made sure of it.
"So…you run errands, escort her across the street to the salon—"
"I've driven Alex before. I know the drill."
"That was your family, and that woman upstairs is my heart. Understand?" I asked.
"Yes, sir."
"I'll hook you up every week. This won't be forever. You wanna be on my crew?"
He nodded.
"You go to school?" I asked as we entered the building.
"I graduated high school last year . . . I had a partial scholarship to Pace…it didn't interest me." He kept his tone hushed while we ascended the stairs.
I sighed, taking the steps slowly. "You can't get anywhere in this world without an education. You seem like a good kid—smart—that's why I asked. I'll talk to my uncle—see about you going back to school."
"What? I had plans—"
"To move up? Be somebody?" I smiled.
"Well . . ."
I dug my keys out of my pocket. "I only employ people of use . . . You can either drive my wife around forever, or make something of yourself by getting an education. You're young." I turned to face him. "You're also family—sorta. You can do both. You know? Learn numbers, money—that's your best bet."
"Anton had me collecting—that's about all I'd do."
"Muscle man, huh?" I asked, and he didn't look scrawny, but he wasn't that built either.
As I turned the key in the lock, I looked back to him. "Wait out here." Sometimes, Maggie will walk around in my t-shirts.
"Okay." He sat on the steps, and he's been nothing but compliant. This might just work out.
When I entered our crib, the smell of garlic hit my nose, and I smiled. "Maggie?" Going into the kitchen, I saw her weeping over a tray of lasagna. "What happened?" I massaged her shoulders.
"I burned it. Kylie and I forgot. She reminded me to take it out, but…" She turned to me, keeping her head down. "I suck at being a wife."
I lifted her chin, smiling wide. "When did I ever ask you to cook for me?"
She shrugged, sniffling, and then her face crumbled. "I'm eighteen . . . I know nothing." She sobbed into my chest.
"Oh…" I rubbed her back, thinking her adorable, although I was sad she was crying. "This looks delicious. Are you kidding?" I gazed at the tray, thinking it might be edible under the charcoal.
"Kylie wanted to paint my nails and my toes." She pouted. "I don't know. We lost track of time, and then she left. She told me it was ready . . . I didn't know what to do."
Looking around, the kitchen was wrecked—pots and pans everywhere—it seemed like they used every utensil I owned, the sink filled with shit. "You wanna learn how to cook? I can teach you. Kylie doesn't know her way around a kitchen either."
She reached behind me for a piece of sauce-stained paper. "It's your mom's recipe. We followed it exactly, but Kylie said the pasta wasn't—um—I don't know the word she used." She ducked her head.
"Al dente?" I grinned, softly kissing that pouty mouth.
"Al something . . . I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." Gazing down, I saw she was in one of my t-shirts and a pair of my briefs, and I don't know why she's the sexiest when she wears my underwear. "I have a friend in the hall. Can you put clothes on?"
She swallowed, still looking down in the dumps. "I just wanted to make you a nice dinner."
I jutted my lower lip out. "I think it looks good. I'll eat it . . . After Gino leaves, we'll open a bottle of wine and eat it in bed." I bent to nuzzle my nose to hers. "Sound good?"
Shaky let out a breath, staring at my lips. "I missed you all day."
I nodded. "I'm home now…I'm yours all night."
She squealed, which was music to my ears. "I'll go put sweats on." She sprinted out of the kitchen.
That was when I grimaced, staring at the mess around me, and then I lifted the top layer of burnt cheese. It really didn't look too bad.
Licking the sauce from my fingers, I opened the door for Gino. "Excuse the mess."
He kept his head down as he entered.
"You wanna beer or something?" I jerked a thumb to the kitchen.
"I'm good." He walked to sit on the couch.
Maggie came out a second later. "Baby, this is Gino."
"Hi." She waved.
"He's going to be your driver," I said, tilting my head.
"My what?" She looked confused. "Oh…like Kylie has Vito?"
I nodded. "I'll try my best to get you to and from school, but he'll be around for everything else." I figured since she's my wife now, I couldn't expect Kylie or Mom to keep her occupied every time I stepped out. This is her crib, too. She could chill out here, do what she wanted, go shopping. Fuck. I wished she'd go shopping. The other day I showed her where a few of my cash spots were. "Whenever I gotta head into the city, I'll call him. You'll have his number."
She scrunched her nose. "Where do I go?"
It made me smile. "Grocery shopping, just shopping . . . escort you to the salon, wherever. You can go places." I poked her side. "You can leave this place every once in a while." It was a joke, but the humor was lost to her.
I sighed. "He's here to drive you wherever you wanna go. Cool?"
She nodded. "Right." She rocked back on her heels. "It's nice to meet you." Maggie waved again, like she wanted him to go already, and I got a kick out of that.
Little by little, she was either maturing, or not giving a fuck—voicing her demands and/or wishes, and I loved, loved, loved it. She bitches when I'm late too, and I've been trying my hardest to come home when I say I am. Maggie gets fucking scary when . . . She turns into a shrieking demon sometimes, and that's okay. I dig it.
Maggie starts with the tears. And, for a while, within our relationship, we hadn't gotten past the tears . . . well, we have a few times. After the tears comes her loud mouth. I think if I pushed Maggie, she'd take a swing at me with that temper she has.
"Should I take off?" Her tone wasn't lost to him either.
"Yeah…I'll—we'll be in touch." I slapped my hand to his.
Then, as soon as he was out the door, Maggie came over to rid me of my coat, and then my suit jacket. I was home early, so I get rewarded.
"You really missed me, huh?" I smirked.
She bit her bottom lip seductively and dropped down to her knees. "Yeah." Maggie undid my pants, taking me out of my slacks.
"Maggie…" She didn't have to do this.
"It's mine."
"It is…" I swallowed, watching her place me in her mouth. She sucked my half-erect cock into her mouth, licking up and down as it became hard as fuck.
"I know some things." She took me back deep, her eyes widening while mine rolled, weaving my fingers into her soft hair.
"Fuck, baby." With a handful of her hair, I fucked her mouth because she loves that shit. Then it became too much, and I grasped her biceps—lifting her to me.
"I was having fun."
I chuckled, tossing her fine ass over my shoulder.
"Where we going? I like the table." She spoke to my ass.
I didn't say anything as I tossed her onto the bed, quick to grab her sweats and panties, peeling them bitches off.
She giggled, leaning up on her elbows, keeping her knees parted.
"You're gorgeous." I kicked my shoes off, and as I hovered over her, she started to unbutton my shirt.
"You're…you're you, Santino." She claimed my mouth, kissing me deeply, and my cock found her fast. She groaned when I entered her, stiffening.
"Now, I'm home," I whispered, leaning down to kiss her softly.
She was panting, pulling my hair, bucking her hips wildly suddenly. "School sucked today. I kept thinking about this. There's something wrong with me—I should be able to think of other things."
"You seem normal to me—in love." I nodded, knowing exactly how she felt as I sat her up to take off her shirt. "You're all I think about." It was the absolute truth. "Get on top—ride me, baby." With a quick smooch, I rolled us over.
She pushed her hair out of her face, holding my hands and leaning forward. But then she picked up a rhythm, which she usually doesn't get. "Wow…" She continued to move, and I blew out a breath. It felt fantastic, the roll of her hips. "This…this…" She planted her hands on my chest, keeping up, and I lay back—just watching. "This feels…" Her hands roamed to my head, fisting my hair as she went faster and harder, and I wasn't going to last if she kept this up. "Oh, wow."
I was smiling widely, just staring up to her, going wild on my cock. She'd never done this before. "You're hitting a spot…" She was out of breath.
My thumb went to her clit, massaging circles.
"Fuck!" She spat, going even faster . . . so fast and hard the headboard was hitting the wall.
I sat up, careful not to jostle her, so she could keep at it. My thumb kept going, and I bit her nipple. That was when she screamed, stiffening on top of me, her pussy hugging me tight. It was beautiful. She was getting a lot more comfortable with me, and I loved it.
Then she stilled, limp on top of me, catching her breath.
"Looks like you found a groove," I said, kissing along her breasts.
She held my cheeks, sloppily kissing me and moaning into my mouth. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
"Now…ravage your wife…fuck me, baby." She grinned, hitting her nose to mine, licking my lips.
I actually growled like some beast as I brought her down to my side. "You asked for it." Once again, I surprised her—taking her ankle and tossing her over. She stuck her ass out quick, and with no abandon I fucked her—gave her what she wanted, what I needed.
She yelped when I spanked her once. "You like that?" I asked.
She moaned, her head resting on the mattress.
A chuckle escaped me as I kept on fucking her, her beautiful ass in my face, hitting my abs. My favorite thing to do is watch, and that was what I did—creating that delicious, sexy noise, she was so wet. When I picked up speed again, I grasped onto her hair, pulling her up, her back flush against my chest. "How's this?" I slowed down, using my hand to reach around and play with her clit.
Maggie turned her head to catch my lips, and then she tried to push me down. I didn't budge. But having a clue as to what she was trying to do, I fell onto my back.
"Your cock—" Then it was in her mouth, and she was licking herself off of me.
I sat up to watch, thinking the sight beautiful. "Take it all." I pushed in, and her eyes watered.
"Sorry."
"I'm sorry." If she puked on me, that would destroy the mood.
"I wanna do that again." She climbed on top of me, taking my hands, holding them above my head, and she went nuts again. Only, this time, there was no finesse to her movements. My wife was literally fucking the crap outta me, and I loved it.
"Slow down." I grunted out, holding her hips, yet making her go faster. "Maggie—" My toes curled, my hips rising from the bed, me holding her down to me as I spilled myself deep. I came so hard, I thought I'd go blind—seeing stars. "Holy shit."
"Whew…" She collapsed to my side, and I turned to gather her into my arms.
"I needed that…We didn't get the chance to play this morning." She twirled her finger around my nipple.
I turned us over. "Look…" My nose skimmed her bare arm. "I don't know shit about being a wife either, but…fuck, baby." I grasped her chin, kissing her deep. "You're doing a wonderful job. I just need you to be you." It was true.
For the first time in my life, I wanted for nothing. I had everything I needed in this woman—my wife: a confidant, a lover, a friend, my fucking soul.
If I just wanted someone to keep my bed warm, cook me dinner, clean my house, and pop out a bunch of kids, I would have settled a long fucking time ago. I thank God I never did—that I dodged those bullets.
Maggie hummed, resting her head on my chest. "I like being married . . . It's not that much different from what we were doing. But you're officially mine now." She held my hand, her finger touching my wedding band.
"I am," I agreed, smiling up to the ceiling, and I wanted to tell her I loved her again, but I was afraid I might sound repetitive.
"I love you," she whispered, hugging me tight.
"I love you, too." I grabbed the blanket to cover us. It was a bit chilly.
"Can we order Chinese?" She scrunched her nose.
I chuckled, nodding my head. "We'll save that for tomorrow?"
She shrugged. "Or the garbage man . . ." She tried to get up, but I yanked her back.
"Where you think you're going?" I cocked a brow.
"The bathroom . . . then I need to clean that kitchen, and then homework."
"Just lay with me—talk to me for a bit—and then . . ." We'd both clean that mess.
She settled into my arms. "Your brother stopped by earlier."
"What?"
"He didn't come inside." She rushed out. "We spoke through the door. He was looking for you."
"He didn't come in?"
"No," she said.
"Were you naked like before?" I asked, feeling heated, aggravated suddenly.
"No . . . I'd just got home from school, and I wasn't naked before." She rubbed my chest. "Santino…he was nice, wanted to apologize."
I nodded, not sure what else I should say.
"He didn't enter at all."
"Okay." I kissed her. "What kind of homework you have?"
She puffed her cheeks. "Calculus and I have to write an essay. That's not due until next week, but I gotta get started on it."
"I'll help if you want." I traced her bottom lip with my thumb.
"I can manage...You can read it over for typos, though." She grinned. "Oh, I did laundry and dusted your bookshelf as soon as I got home—"
"Maggie, baby, look at me." I held her cheeks, making her have those fish lips, and then I kissed them. "You don't have to do that shit. I just want you to be with me. The place is a mess . . . you want it clean. I mean, we're both pretty neat. Clean up after yourself, and I'll do the same."
"'K . . ."
"Plus…we're moving soon." Earlier in the week, they put a four-bedroom house up for sale a block away from my parents' place. Dad was quick to free up a down payment, saying he'd have the rest paid off by closing. The minute it went on the market, Dad just went for it. It was their gift to us, and I couldn't fucking believe it. I knew they'd get us something extravagant, but . . . the houses near my parents are a few mil easy.
"What?"
"Actually…we'll be living around the corner from our parents." I smiled. "It might be cool. You know? You can chill—hang with Kylie and my mom whenever. Maybe…you never know. Your parents might just accept us—I hope so."
"Our own house?" she shouted.
I nodded.
"Oh my gosh." She covered her mouth. "A house?"
"Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, two sitting rooms . . . It's on 83rd between Shore Road and Colonial."
Her eyes were still wide. "A house?"
"Yes." I tickled her sides. "It's from my parents. Their gift to us."
Her lip quivered. "Seriously?"
"You're too cute." I squashed her to my chest, hugging the fuck out of her. "By the New Year . . . we'll be moving in."
"I have to call—thank your mom and dad." She squirmed, but I wouldn't let her leave. "Santi-no!" she giggled.
Still, I tickled her sides and wanted to keep her in bed with me—my bride.
Thank you for reading.
Please leave me your thoughts.
* * The line where Damion says he's not a monster. Cristina said something along those lines to Owen on Grey's Anatomy. Guess it stuck with me. The line isn't verbatim, but it's not originally mine.
* * I was obviously listening to Pink Floyd, too!
:-)