Page 26

26

Stella

“M arriage looks good on you, honey,” Mom says softly with a smile, too weak to lift her head from the pillow.

“Thank you,” I reply just as quietly as I remove my boots and lie down on the other side of her to feel her warmth. “Honestly, it’s been…different than I expected.”

“Better?” She rolls to her side to face me.

“Yeah. Better.” I reach over and press my palm to her forehead, checking for a fever, and thankfully finding none. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Could you try to eat some soup? Cami said you’ve only had tea today.”

“I just want to rest,” she replies, her eyes closing. “Tell me about the handsome love of your life while I rest.”

I smile even though she doesn’t see it. “He can be such a pain in the ass.”

My mom huffs a laugh. “That’s typical of all men, hon.”

“Right. He doesn’t ever get angry at my…outbursts, but he doesn’t let me get away with them either.” It’s impossible for me to stop thinking about how hot the sex was on the table before he put me on my knees, told me to clean up the mess, and make him dinner. Not that I did the latter. I did order in dinner for us, though.

“Good for him. You needed someone strong to put up with your tantrums.”

“Mom!” I huff indignantly when she makes me sound like a spoiled toddler.

“What? It’s true. Your father used to say you were passionate , especially when you were a smart-mouthed teenager.” I wince at the reminder of the days I was so disrespectful to my mother. “Andre won’t ever be intimidated by your vicious side. Just remember some words can pierce even the toughest armor, and those wounds cut so deep, they heal the slowest. Words said in anger can easily ruin a marriage if you’re not careful.”

“So, you’re saying just because he’s willing to put up with my shit, doesn’t mean I should take him for granted or run off at the mouth?”

“Exactly.” Blinking her eyes open, she reaches over and pats my cheek. “Now, how soon can I expect my first grandchild?”

Her sudden change in topic has my cheeks warming as I recall sex in the hotel room, on his desk, and the dinner table.

“Judging by that blush, I’m going to guess soon. Oh, I can’t wait…” she trails off, her eyes glistening, knowing she won’t be here long enough for a test to tell me I’m pregnant, much less meet her grandson or granddaughter. “Are you sure you’re ready to be a mother so soon, honey?”

“Yes, I am. It’s not like I’m getting any younger,” I point out. “And…Andre is a few years older, so that’s probably why he’s eager to start a family.”

“Of course he’s eager. He’s a made man. Family is what they live for and what they’d die for. He’ll be a good father. Protective, but not too strict.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I can tell. Just like I know you’re going to be a wonderful mother. Cami too. My girls are all grown up, taking such good care of me, when you should be taking care of your babies.”

“We still need you,” I tell her as moisture fills my eyes. “There may be time to try immunotherapy or more chemo…”

“No, honey. I’m going to spend my last days, right here, in the home I shared with my husband and surrounded by my family. I’d rather be here for a day than spend another year throwing up and miserable. Someday, you’ll understand…and forgive me,” she says before her eyes drift closed.

I lay there in bed with her for hours, waiting for her to wake up so we can talk some more. But when darkness falls outside and she’s still sleeping, I kiss the top of her head and head home.

* * *

I’m too depressed to even complain about the Franco’s Pizza van sitting outside my family’s house after I say goodbye to Saint and Cami. And instead of waiting for a ride, I go and open the passenger door, causing the interior light to illuminate the terrified, frozen faces of the two men inside. At least I still scare some men.

“Give me a ride home,” I tell them.

“Yes, ma’am,” Franco says from the driver seat this time. “Dino, get your ass in the back so Mrs. Ferraro can sit up front.”

I don’t correct the name. And I barely remember the drive to Manhattan, too lost in my thoughts.

I’d give anything to not have to think for a few hours or even a few minutes about how close I am to losing my mother. Leaving my family home actually helps a little. While I feel guilty I’m not spending every waking moment with my mother, I think the distance helps at night.

Andre helps.

And when I let myself into the apartment, he’s not sitting at the dinner table waiting for me like usual.

“Dre?” I call out before realizing I’ve shortened his name.

“Hey, baby,” Andre replies from out of sight before he strolls down the hall toward me in nothing but a towel around his hips. His dark hair is still damp from his shower. “I was worried about you, until I got Dino’s text saying you were riding home with them.”

“It’s been a shitty day.”

“Want to talk about it?”

I shake my head while biting down on my bottom lip to keep it from trembling, not wanting to fall apart in front of him.

“Want a distraction?”

“Yes.”

Andre holds out his hand and I take it, letting him lead me down the hall toward the bedroom. The view of his broad shoulders and muscular back makes me feel safe and horny all at the same time.

And when he flips on the overhead light in our room, I’m suddenly surrounded by too many reflections of my husband in nothing but a teasing towel to count.

“What’s all this?” I glance around at the variety of mirrors covering every inch of the walls. There are several freestanding, full-length mirrors as well as at least two mounted, framed mirrors larger than windows. It feels like I walked into a funhouse. “Vain much?” I ask in confusion.

“The mirrors are for you, not for me.”

“I don’t remember asking for 360 views of your hairy ass.” I grin.

Andre scoffs and pulls me toward his warm, humid body. “My ass isn’t that hairy.” He drops the towel and looks over his shoulder to the closest mirror at his backside while I admire his freed cock. “I can make an appointment to get my ass waxed if you prefer it smooth as a baby’s bottom.”

“Fine. Just don’t let them touch your chest.” I run my fingers through the hair there without thinking.

“I know how much you like my hairy chest.” Andre grins, covering my hand with his when I start to pull it away. “But back to the purpose of the mirrors…there’s no pressure. I just thought that maybe if you could see me at any given point in time, you might be more willing to try a few different positions with me.”

Oh shit.

I can’t decide if it’s sweet of Andre to try to help me work through my issue, or if he’s a giant hairy ass for being so damn determined to take me from behind.

“I haven’t heard any complaints from you during missionary or when I’m riding you,” I remark a little defensively.

“I don’t have any complaints, mia dolce vipera . I love when you ride me and when I bury myself between your legs.”

“The new assemblage of half a dozen mirrors says otherwise.” I wave my hand toward the ones on the wall next to the bed.

“Stella, baby,” Andre says softly in his husband voice. “Why don’t you want me behind you?”

I swallow around the lump in my throat as I debate how to respond to his question. There’s no way I’m going to tell him the truth. And there’s no snide remark that comes to mind.

Besides, he’s not wrong.

The mirrors are a practical solution for the problem of needing to be able to see who’s fucking me at all times.

I guess I could give it a try, since he went to so much trouble hauling all the fragile mirrors up. If I can’t tolerate it, then I’ll just…roll over.

While I may not know my husband very well, I know he wouldn’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do, if for no other reason than he wants to stay on my good side to keep fucking me.

So, to end this uncomfortable discussion, I grab the hem of my red dress and pull it over my head, leaving me standing before him in my knee-high black boots, black satin bra, and matching panties.

“Goddamn,” Andre mutters. “I love seeing you naked, but I think the boots are becoming a new kink of mine.”

Running my finger down the center of his chest and lower through his abs, I tell him, “Get me good and wet with your tongue, and I’ll bend over anywhere you want.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever fucking received.” He lightly grips my chin between his thumb and finger, lifting my lips so he can claim them.

While our tongues tangle, Andre walks me backward until I’m at the edge of the bed. I climb on, then slip my panties down my legs, watching my husband’s hungry face the entire time. Well, his face and his dick which quickly springs up hard and long in need of relief.

Rather than drop to his knees, he grabs my thighs, lifting my hips off the mattress and to his mouth, so I can watch as he devours me.

The first stroke of his tongue is heaven. And just like all the other times I’m with him, the rest of the world disappears. Nothing matters but me and him in this moment. I hate that I crave this man the way I do, but I love it at the same time.

“Please,” I beg when his tongue lazily penetrates me, teasing me, tasting me rather than pleasuring me. I don’t have to ask twice. His amber eyes stay on mine as the tip of his tongue circles my clit while his fingers thrust into me, getting me ready to take him.

The way he’s holding my hips off the mattress means I can’t grind against his face like I need to, so I grab his hair and wrap my legs around his neck, pressing him closer to my body. My boot heels dig into his upper back making Andre growl and lick me faster, sending me over into that freefall of ecstasy.

“Yes! Oh, my god, Dre! Don’t stop!” I beg him as I buck in his grip, my back arching off the bed while I ride out the waves of pleasure. My inner walls clench around his thrusting fingers.

When the spasms ease, Andre slips his fingers out, making me whimper a second before his tongue replaces them. He laps up my arousal as if he can’t get enough.

Behind him, I catch his reflection in one of the mirrors. This huge man’s beautiful naked body is so big, all I can see of myself are the bottoms of my boots.

Lowering them from his neck, I push myself up on shaking arms and roll over, giving my husband what he’s so desperate for — all of me.

Pressing the side of my face to the mattress, I fist the comforter while lifting my ass in the air in offering, watching us in the various mirrors beside the bed the entire time.

Andre’s eyes are on me, his palm gentle as he strokes from the top of my spine down to my ass. He leans over, tongue swiping through my cheeks, as if going back for more.

“Fuck me,” I order him.

The bed dips behind me, and I watch as he kneels between my legs. His knees spread my thighs farther apart, making my breath hitch. Large hands grip my hips, and I brace myself for him to enter me. But he doesn’t, not yet. His warm hands smooth up my sides, lifting me from the bedding. As he cups my breasts, I lean back, flush against his hard chest and able to watch us in the closer mirror at the head of the bed. I look delicate compared to the size of him towering behind me.

His eyes are on mine. It’s so damn hot to see his big, strong hands unfasten my bra and remove it, then squeezes my breasts while his thick cock presses against my ass. When his right palm slides over my hip and down my stomach to that sensitive place between my thighs, I moan in pleasure as soon as his fingertips brush my clit. My head falls back onto his shoulder as I begin to melt, to relax against him.

Growing impatient, I arch my back, rubbing myself on his shaft and making him groan.

Placing a kiss on my shoulder while watching my face, he asks, “Do you still want me to fuck you like this?”

“Was my ass grinding on your dick too subtle?” I ask to lighten the mood, avoiding the question he’s really asking — do I trust him enough to try this?

When he chuckles but doesn’t move, I cover his hand between my legs, pressing his fingers harder as he circles me until I shudder and cry out as I come apart again.

Finally, Andre caves. His left hand releases my breast to line himself up, then he slowly thrusts into me, as if he’s still worried I’ll change my mind.

And while it feels good, I know he’s trembling from holding himself back. I take matters into my own hands. Keeping his hand on my clit, I bend forward and press back, burying his cock so deep we both shout in surprise.

Andre snaps and slams in and out of me hard and fast, as if the fate of the world depends on us both coming again.

The entire time, though, he holds my gaze in the mirror, like he’s worried that if he closes his eyes, I might disappear.