Page 50 of Angelo’s Vengeance (The Commission #3)

Later, Angelo pulled me aside while I was making the rounds. I’d swapped my heels for a pair of flip-flops. “You made this…” he looked around the garden, now glowing with fairy lights and candlelit shadows, “…a dream. A fairytale.”

“You gave me the space to make it. That’s love, right?

Letting the other person be exactly who they are.

Crazy and all.” When I asked people to come in costume, I wasn’t sure they’d deliver, but they did.

We had a Cheshire Cat, a Mad Hatter, a White Rabbit, and even someone with a teapot mask.

Anyone who knew me knew I loved a masquerade.

He pressed his forehead to mine. “And I love exactly who you are.”

We danced our first dance beneath the willow tree to a rendition of “A Forest” by The Cure. It was very us. Later, as the guests drifted off, I stole one last moment with Cora and Frankie, watching the lights flicker across the garden.

“You did it,” Frankie whispered. “You’re Mrs. Santelli now.”

I grinned, touching the wedding set on my finger. “I’m officially part of your family, which is somehow scarier.”

We all laughed, and behind me, Angelo waited—my future wrapped in a suit, bloodlines, and something tender neither of us ever expected.

Our wonderland was real. It had thorns, but that was the way I liked it.

Looking over at Angelo as he took off his jacket, the evening played out in my mind like a movie reel. It had been exactly as I imagined: absolute perfection, from Lev arriving with his Mad Hatter mask to the impromptu game of charades we played after most of the guests had left.

One of the things I loved most was the sense of family that being with Angelo gave me.

I cherished every facet of our relationship.

That feeling of being under the stars with his friends, laughing together amidst the remnants of costumes and scattered cheeseboards around us, was incredible.

The love on everyone’s faces surrounded me so tightly that it almost burned.

I gripped Angelo’s hand so hard that he turned, caught the look on my face, and told everyone to get out.

“What are you thinking about so hard over there, piccola ? Naughty thoughts?”

He stripped off his shirt, exposing all those planes of muscles, making my mouth water. I hadn’t even moved, still parked on the edge of the bed in my gown, but I moved now, collapsing on my knees and fumbling with the front of his slacks.

“I like what you’re thinking, wife,” he growled as he rushed to help.

He was hard before my mouth closed around the tip, my tongue swirling over the smooth skin, tasting the saltiness that was distinctly his.

My other hand gathered his balls and rolled them just the way he liked.

I’d found that the savage edge he rode in the mafia world bled out into every part of his life.

He could be gentle, but he liked a bite as well .

“Theo,” he groaned, as I ran my tongue along the slit at his tip. “That feels so good, baby.” He stared down at me his eyes dilated as I flattened my tongue and relaxed my throat to let him thrust deeper as I sucked.

He groaned as he thrust gently forward into the cavity of my mouth.

He was thick and long which made sucking his cock challenging, but I’d adapted into a hand-job/sucking version that he seemed very fond of.

I was working on my gag reflex, but he seemed to be more than satisfied with what was happening, so I wasn’t going to second-guess myself.

“That’s my dirty girl. Are you wet?”

Angelo knew me well. I was soaked through my thong, my thighs slick, but I didn’t want to touch myself. I knew I’d go off like a rocket. What I wanted was between my lips right now. He pulled out with a pop as if he could read my mind.

“That’s enough of that, piccola . I know where my come needs to be—no wasting it.

I want it between your thighs. Deep inside you.

” His current obsession seemed to be fixated on getting me pregnant, and I couldn’t say I minded at all.

Either the idea or the activity. He picked me up and planted me on the bed before shucking off his slacks.

“Let’s get you up and out of that gown before I ruin it. ”

Standing, I let him undo the clasps on the back of the dress until it fell onto the floor in a pool of fabric. “You’re so beautiful, wife. Up on the bed. Spread those thighs so I can see what’s mine,” he growled as he fisted his cock.

Doing as he asked, I let my legs fall open, watching his face as he bit his lip in anticipation.

There was never any doubt in my mind that I turned him on when we came together.

Every glance, every line of his body consistently showed me that I did.

He had helped me make significant progress in my confidence.

Crouching between my thighs he ran his fingers up against the silk gusset that covered my pussy. “You are wet,” he groaned. “Dripping.” Even his words were coated with approval.

My corset pushed my breasts to new heights so they spilled over the top, but I made no move to stop him as he pushed the thong aside and shoved into me.

It was exactly what I wanted—Angelo raw and unfiltered.

Angelo had varied moods when it came to sex, but he always made sure I was ready first and always left me satisfied.

I’d learned that I would take him anyway he wanted me.

We were already starting to splinter on the second thrust, my head thrown back, my nails raking a path down his back as he pounded his release into me.

“I got you a wedding present,” I said as he cupped a hand over my pussy sliding his fingers into his come and pushing it back into me. The habit always made me hornier than ever, making me want to go another round even when I was tender and sore.

“This seems like a very satisfactory present. I’d give it five stars, “ he smiled at me.

“You’ll like this present too.” In fact, he’d love the present I got. “It’s in the bathroom. Go look.”

He gave me another lazy squeeze, those calloused fingertips swirling around my clit. “Okay. I’ll be right back, but I have plans for you.” He leaned in for a kiss.

Wiggling out of the corset and the soaking panties, I slipped beneath the sheet before he came back, standing stunned in the doorway holding the pregnancy test in one hand .

“ Piccola? Does this mean what I think it means?”

“If you think it means we’re going to be parents, then you’re right.”

He threw the stick onto the bed and cradled my face, staring hard at me. “I’m going to make you happy. I swear it. I’ll be the best father I can be. One that our children deserve. The man you deserve.”

Finally, Angelo Santelli was mine.