Page 84 of Forgive Me, Father

I exploded and after that, everything became a fucking blur of screams, more euphoria, and a lot of cussing.

It was the first time Alfonso ever fucked me that hard.

Multiple orgasms rolled through me and the only thing I could say was that it was chaotic and everywhere.

I only snapped out of it when he released deep inside of me and then somehow discovered we were inside the shower.

He spoke a string of words in Italian, which made me laugh as I didn’t understand a single one of them, but I knew the tone all too well.

We still had this fucking pull.It was a passion that burned more as a need than a simple want.

Our lips met, and he growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating between us.

He chuckled against my mouth.“Finish your shower, then come eat the food I made for you.”

A smile tugged at my lips as I watched my husband step out.And just like that, I felt like myself again.Whatever had happened in that place was already fading into a distant blur.

A soft smile played on my lips.My mother had been right—Icoulddo this.

The sun finally broke through the heavy clouds that had shadowed me all week, and for the first time in days, its warmth finally reached me.

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur.My husband had returned to his usual self—calm, confident, in control, and we were screwing each other’s brains out every chance we got.

Today we were flying home, his home, and the nerves were starting to settle deep in my stomach.The thought of turning it into mine made me more anxious than I wanted to admit.

Just before we boarded the plane, I called my dad.He answered with his usual teasing warmth.

“All honeymoons have to end sometime, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

I giggled softly.“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course you can, angel.”

I hesitated for a beat.“Is there a way I can speak to Mom?”

There was a pause on the other end.Heavy and telling.Everyone in the Santore family knew my mother and I rarely saw eye to eye.But these past few weeks, this marriage, I’d started to understand her in a way I never had before.I was beginning to see the strength behind her coldness, and I had a new respect for it.

“Just hold on,” my dad said quietly.

The silence stretched, and I could feel Alfonso’s gaze on me as he waited by the steps of the plane.Still, he didn’t rush me.

“Camilla,” my mother’s voice came through the line, uncertain, almost cautious.She sounded as surprised as my father had been.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“For what?The last time we spoke, you chased me away.”

“I know,” I admitted.“But you were right about so many things.And I just wanted to say… if it weren’t for the lessons you taught me, I wouldn’t have survived any of this.”

There was a long silence.I imagined her somewhere in the house I grew up in, clutching the phone with that unreadable expression she always wore when emotions got too close.

“Is he good to you?”Her voice dropped, gentler now, as if she didn’t want to be overheard.

“He is,” I said without hesitation.“More than I ever expected.I’m… I’m good, Mom.”

“I’m glad.”Another pause.“When are we going to see you?”