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Belonging to the Italian Mafia Boss: Epilogue

Sabrina Trullo

Michael Jamison teetered on his feet, laughing in the way he never stopped doing. I held out my arms as his dad sat behind him, watching keenly as he went forward and then backward. Karsen and Jamison sat on the couch of the room, watching anxiously. He’d never taken an unassisted step, though we knew it could happen any day now.

“Come here, baby,” I cooed. “Come see mama.”

He squealed, and… he fell onto his butt.

Bruce grabbed him beneath the arms and stood him back up again, letting go as soon as he caught his balance. This time, Michael didn’t hesitate. He darted forward, taking three steps before careening into my arms and burying his face in my chest with a laugh.

The room went wild, shouting and jumping up as we all watched him in wonder. Bruce grabbed him and spun him around, dipping him back and blowing on his belly in excitement. Watching them together made my chest ache with pride and love that I never thought I’d be able to feel so extensively.

Bruce was genuinely the most exceptional dad.

“You have no idea how much we love you, little man,” Bruce said, his eye gleaming with the same expression I sometimes saw when he looked at me.

“Come see your Uncle Jamison,” he said, pushing his cane aside and opening his arms. Michael dropped to his hands and knees and made his way toward him excitedly.

Jamison hadn’t healed all the way, as the bullet nicked a small section of his spine and caused irreparable damage. For a year after the incident, he hadn’t been able to move his legs, but he’d been gaining mobility slowly but steadily. He could walk with only the assistance of his cane now, and the physical therapist claimed that there was a good chance he’d be able to walk alone one day. It would never be the same, and running was something that would prove more difficult, but he may be able to walk.

“While Uncle Jamison has Mr. Stinky,” Bruce said, grabbing my hand and pulling me from where I sat on the floor. “I have something to give you.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing that Bruce gave gifts far too often, but I looked at where Karsen sat beside Jamison. “Can you keep an eye on them?”

“Hey, your kid loves me,” Jamison chastised.

“He loves that you sneak him chocolate before bed,” I mused, and Jamison gave me a teasing grin as Bruce pulled me out of the room swiftly. I heard Michael shout at Jamison, likely as he noticed me leave, but they quickly settled him.

Bruce led me into our shared bedroom, and I watched as he sifted through a pile of crap that he constantly kept in the corner of the room—one of the many things I overlooked in our relationship. He pulled a medium-sized box out of the stuff and sat it on the end of the bed before turning toward me. I eyed every facet of his expression as he stood before me.

“You finished changing your name this week,” he commented.

I rolled my eyes, unsurprised that he knew that. I couldn’t be marching around the Trullo territory as a Rizzo, so I’d done what needed to be done. “I did.”

“As a wedding gift, I got you something,” he said. “I considered getting you a ring, but I have a feeling you’d prefer to pick that out yourself. Instead, I decided on something a little more practical.”

He grabbed the box and handed it over to me. I slowly unboxed it, gasping as I saw something familiar inside. A small pistol case. I opened it and gaped at what I found. “It’s beautiful,” I commented, eyeing the meticulously designed weapon. With a matte black finish, the handle had an engraving that read S.T., and I couldn’t help gawking at its beauty.

“It comes with bi-weekly shooting lessons so you’re more comfortable using it. Our territory has expanded a lot recently, and with expansion comes feuds. I want you to be able to keep yourself and our son safe.”

I had no idea what to say about the gesture. I had never been a jewelry kind of woman—never someone who would buy upscale things for myself. I had, however, taken an interest in the gun he’d given me after the incident. I insisted he taught me to defend myself, and we’d discussed getting a weapon to better suit my needs.

He’d taken that conversation to heart, and I had no idea what to say.

I left the gun on the bed, ensuring the safety remained on as I stood and placed both hands on his cheeks. “I love it,” I told him. “I love you so damn much, and I love the gun.”

The satisfaction shone in his eyes brightly, and he bent his neck, reached down, and drew my lips into his fiercely. I sighed against his lips and allowed myself to sink into his arms as deeply as possible. Being surrounded by him felt like more of a privilege than I could fathom. I couldn’t believe that he’d chosen me out of everyone. I couldn’t believe that he so clearly loved me—that he wanted to stay with me, despite my ex-family name.

He pulled away for just the briefest moment. “I would give you the world on a platter if it made you smile like this,” he told me.

I believed him.

“Do you know what else makes me smile?” I asked, looking up at him through lowered lashes. His brows bunched together for a moment, but as he examined my expression, a predatory smile gleamed across his lips.

“I think I know what you’re thinking,” he teased, swooping me into his arms and turning me until he could firmly press me into the wall adjacent to our bed.

When his lips locked on mine this time, there was no hint of doubt about where we each wanted this to go. I arched into him as he devoured my lips, his tongue sweeping around my mouth and bringing indescribable sparks of exhilaration up my spine. He shifted my weight into one of his arms and brought a hand around the nape of my neck, pulling me closer still.

I burned for him deep within my core, and I wondered when this novelty would fade—when I would stop trembling each time he kissed me for more than a few seconds. When would my insides stop burning for him?

I looked over the straight wisps of dark brown hair atop his head and dropped my attention to the hard lines of his face. I felt the way he touched me with such care and adoration, being both gentle and rough when I most needed those things. He knew me in a way that I was just beginning to know myself.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips. “So damn much.”

He deepened the kiss, and I wrapped both legs around him more tightly as he dropped the second hand from supporting me and began working the button of my pants. He slid his hand downward until he barely grazed the tip of my thighs and sent me backing up for him.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he said. “Let me make you feel good.”

“I already do,” I whispered breathlessly as he wound his fingers in the base of my hair and tugged my head back slightly, dropping his lips to the sides of my throat. His finger wound around the center of me, and I gasped at the sensations that he brought from me. “I don’t want to wait,” I begged.

“Patience,” he whispered against my neck, bringing a whole new wave of longing over me. I wiggled in his grasp, but he remained firm as he slipped a single finger inside of me and moved alongside his other fingers, winding my pleasure up to a near climax with so little effort it should have been considered sinful.

“Please,” I gasped. My body yearned for more of him—different parts of him.

He nipped at my bottom lip as his fingers continued their sinfully slow motions. “I like seeing you like this. Vulnerable. Hot for me.”

“Fuck me, Bruce.”

Something in his demeanor shifted as I spoke those words. The primal side of him seemed to come to the surface as he gripped my hair a little more tightly. “There’s a difference between fucking you and making love to you, Sabrina,” he commented, a smirk pulling to his lips.

I cried out as his thumb pressed into my sweet sensitivity roughly, drawing obscene sounds from the back of my throat. I knew what making love entailed. I knew that it came with an entire territory of slow, sensual touches and caresses. The buildup and the climax were slow to come and easy to savor, but I didn’t want that. I wanted fast and intense.

I wanted Bruce the way I knew he most enjoyed.

I wanted him the way most enjoyed.

I reached behind him and gripped a handful of his long hair, tugging it so that he was forced to look up and into my eyes. “I want to feel the reminder of you inside of me for the next two days.”

The shift in him was something I’d come to expect and crave. He quickly backed us off the wall and threw me roughly on the bed as he pulled his shirt from his body with one swift movement. He dropped his pants and boxers, revealing a hard, thick length that beckoned for me.

I couldn’t help myself. I sat up and dropped to my knees before him, gripping the thick base of him and bringing every inch of his impressive cock between my lips. I sucked. Hard.

“Fuck,” Bruce drawled, his entire body shuddering. I took him deep in my throat for five long sweeps before pulling away and wiping the corner of my lip with a smirk. His narrowed gaze captured mine, and I knew that taunting him like this was something I’d soon pay for.

Fortunately, I liked the payment he expected.

I stood, and he gripped one of my wrists, turning me so that my back faced him. He pulled me into his broad chest for just a moment as he pulled off my long-sleeved shirt and tossed it to the ground. In my ear, his deep voice sent chills through every part of me.

“I hope you’re ready to be fucked, because there’s no turning back when you do that.”

I smirked over my shoulder. “I’d like to see what you’ve got.”

My nipples hardened, and my breasts tightened as a small, threatening sound came from the back of his throat. He shoved me forward onto the bed, and he gripped my hips, pulling them upright. I cried out as he plunged himself into me. As he thrust again, the pressure built faster than it had before. I stretched to take every inch of him as he pounded into me fiercely.

I came undone beneath him, my moans growing loud enough that I knew anyone in the house could hear us. I didn’t particularly care, though.

As he claimed me, everything in my mind shifted to him. I loved him. I wanted him. I needed him. I found myself at ease with my orgasm, shudders running through my entire body as he continued pounding into me, but as his hand found that sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs, I felt myself fall apart all over again. Harder this time.

I became everything and nothing as he cried out his release alongside me.

Everything about the moment flooded me with unyielding ecstasy, and I couldn’t stop the single tear that left my eye as he finally came to a stop, and we panted alongside each other. In the newfound silence, I heard Michael in the living room, belly-laughing at something I had no doubt Jamison had said or done.

I knew, without a single doubt in my mind, that I was exactly where I belonged.


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