Page 239 of Bitter Poetry

My jaw locks.

Christian grips my hip and fucks slowly into me. I’m quivering where he fills me. So close, like my denial of the pleasure makes it twice as potent. So many times I’ve tried to convince myself this won’t work, that I can live without them, but the truth is that I can’t.

Will I still be furious if they’ve done what I suspect?

Damn right I will be. “I’m pregnant.”

Christian groans and stills with his cock buried deep inside me. “Fuck, just her saying that is hot.”

“Which one of you changed my birth control?” The words are out before I can second guess my decision to ask the question.

Do I want the truth?

And what will I do with it if I have it?

“Me,” Dante says.

I wasn’t expecting it to be him, nor for him to admit it so readily.

“I gave him the replacements,” Christian offers from behind.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that. You had no right to?—”

Dante slants his lips over mine, swallowing up my protests. And I let him. I want to hate him. I’ve hated them both plenty of times, but I don’t have more hate in me. And I definitely don’t hate the child I’m carrying… Nor the feel of them touching me, loving me, as twisted as this loving might seem.

I told myself a long time ago that no ordinary man would ever be enough to eradicate someone like Ettore.

I used to worry about Christian’s wildness. But, as I’ve come to discover, they’re both one and the same. Aligned, it would seem. How else could they do this? Share me?

“We’re happy—fucking ecstatic,” Dante says, lifting his lips from mine. Christian begins to move, slow fucks that wake up every nerve the length of my channel. “We’re getting married. Christian is going to be the godfather. But as far as us and anyone close enough to care is concerned, you’re ours and your child is ours—both of ours.”

“I’m going to nut,” Christian mutters.

“What will people say—oh, God!” My body coils. They represent a forbidden dream, one I cherish all the more when I consider the long and painful road to get here.

“Come for him, baby. As soon as he’s done with you, I’m going to fuck you. And, seriously? I couldn’t give a fuck what anyone says. You think either of us could let you go, now or ever? Not a fucking chance. I have a lot of fucking regrets—that I didn’t save you soon enough, that I left you with that bastard even for a second—but you carrying our child is not one of them.”

“I’d kill to keep you safe, Carmela,” Christan says. “Bleed for you. Tear the fucking world apart if I had to. We both would, without hesitation. You want to know why we did it? We’re both fucking obsessed with you. And we couldn’t help ourselves.”

A sob tears from my throat. Dante swallows up the sound in a hot kiss. My climax sets me soaring. My pussy clenches lovingly over Christian’s cock and he groans into my neck.

I’m still catching my breath when Dante drags me up and positions me on my hands and knees in the middle of the bed facing where Christian is lazily reclining. “Clean my brother up like the filthy girl you are. Worship him while I fuck this perfect pussy.”

I fall onto Christian’s cock. Dante fucks into me from behind. Here, right between them, carrying their child, is where I was meant to be.

EPILOGUE

CARMELA

Charlotte Monica Barone is welcomed into the world nine months later.

She has her daddies’ eyes.

She has my hair.

She has a smile that is all her own, one that melts hearts.

She also has a set of lungs on her when she’s not happy, but we won’t linger upon that.