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His rhythm turns punishing.

“I love this body,” he groans. “Every curve. Every inch. This thick ass bouncing against me. These thighs locked around me. This tight, wet cunt wrapped around my cock like you never want to let go.”

And I don’t.

I never want him to stop.

His hand slips between us, finding my clitoris with practiced ease. He rubs tight, wet circles as he fucks me against the wall, my orgasm building fast and brutal.

“I’m close,” I gasp, head falling back. “I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he growls. I do.

My entire body goes rigid, my cunt clenching around him like a vise. Pleasure tears through me like a storm—hot, endless, overwhelming. I cry out, trembling in his arms, hips jerking wildly as my orgasm rips through every nerve ending.

He groans and slams into me once more.

“I’m gonna come,” he chokes out. “I’m gonna fill you up again.”

He thrusts deep and holds, cock pulsing inside me as he releases—thick, hot spurts spilling into my cunt, flooding me again, the wetness trailing down my thighs.

He stays there, pressed against me, forehead to mine, both of us shaking.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You feel like everything.”

Epilogue – Lunetta

That night a loud thud jerks me out of sleep.

I sit up, my heart already racing. My hand slides across the sheets. Vieri’s side is empty. The indent of his body is already fading.

I glance toward Carmela’s cot. My baby girl is sound asleep, mouth open slightly, her soft breaths fogging the air above her tiny lips. Her lashes flutter in dreams

Another thud. Sharper this time.

I swing my legs out of bed. My robe slips across my shoulders like a whisper. The drawer creaks when I open it. My fingers close around the gun Vieri insisted I keep beside the bed, and my thumb checks the safety with a click that breaks the hush.

Should I go with her? Do I leave her here? I decide she is safer in here. I walk out the door and I lock the door to be certain.

Down the corridor, the lights are low. I walk down the stairs looking around. “Vieri? Bea?” I whisper.

Then I hear it. Whispers. Scrambled. Stressed.

"You fucking idiots."

"She scares me, Enzo."

"I swear, I’m about to pee."

Then I see them, clutching under the stairs. I clear my throat loud enough to echo.

Three grown men freeze like deer mid-theft—balloons in hand, eyes wide, caught in a guilty crouch. Alfio’s holding a streamer with his mouth. Omero has one foot on a stool, clearly trying to hang something. Enzo is holding a half-rolled banner that reads "CONGRAT—" and looks like he gave up halfway through the mission.

Bea stands just behind them, rubbing her head like she regrets every decision that led her here.

"What... what is this?" I ask, voice rough from sleep.

Bea storms over, plucks the gun from my hands, and mutters, “Do you ever just go to sleep like a normal person?”