Cara looks too fucked to move, but after a beat, she pulls herself up the bed and settles right under my arm. I curl it around her shoulders and pull her close against me, shuffling until I’m spooning her from behind. She’s nestled against my chest where she belongs, her ass pressed against my, now, limp cock. Her breathing is still a little ragged and I cuddle her close, pressing my lips to the heated skin at the back of her neck.
“I know you enjoyed that,” I murmur, writing the words into her skin with my lips, “there’s no shame in it. Your mind might try to deny it, but I can feel you enjoyed it.” Cara remains silent, and I slide my left hand up to her breasts, squeezing a handful and drawing a muted moan from her lips.
“Itisshameful. I’m not a fucking doll,” she mutters into her pillow. I slide my hand down her abdomen, tracing the curves of her body down until I can press my hands between her thighs and cup her heated mound, sticky with our combined seed.
“No,” I correct, “it’s kinky. You can’t deny how much you enjoyed it. Like I said, not all sex is rainbows. Doesn’t make it any less pleasurable.” I slip a finger through her folds, the touch almost burning me from how hot her body runs, and she moans faintly, squirming against me. She must be so sensitive after tonight.
“Whatever,” she groans and I catch the slight breathlessness in her voice. “I need to shower.”
“No,” I say and my left hand skims back up to her abdomen, coiling around her like a snake and holding her against me. “Tonight we became man and wife. You should bask in this. This is your new life. Yourtruenew life.” A shudder moves through her, and I curl around her body tighter until we’re tucked together; it’s as if we are one.
“I still want to shower,” she murmurs and her voice is thick, exhaustion quickly catching up and mingling with the alcohol in her blood.
“Enjoy it,” I whisper, bringing my lips around to the shell of her ear. “It’s just you and me now.”
She doesn’t voice another complaint and I close my own eyes, breathing in our mingled scents. I’m more at peace than I have been in a long time. Distantly I hear the noise of notification from my phone. Yet, just as I contemplate getting up to check it in case it’s important, Cara presses back into me, and my desire changes. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.
* * *
Morning arrives with a dry throat, a stiff shoulder, and a chill over my skin. I’ve spent the night with Cara asleep in my arms. We’ve never done that before. We’ve slept in the same bed but never tangled up together like this. I lift my head, rubbing sleep from my eyes with my left hand as my right is still under Cara’s sleeping form.
God. I’m a married man now. Cara is mywife.
I lay there for a few moments, enjoying her warmth next to me, until my bladder alerts me of a pressing issue.
Sitting up, I slowly pull my arm out from underneath Cara. I don’t want to wake her; she’s earned some sleep. But I realize I’ve failed the moment a soft moan escapes her, so I pull my arm free quickly.
“Killian?”
Oh. Her sleepy, just awake after being fucked all night voice is adorable.
“I gotta take a leak,” I offer in the way of explanation as I climb out of bed, then I pause and reach for the duvet and pull it up to drape over her naked form.
“Mhmm,” she moans in understanding, wrapping her arms around the nearest pillow and pulling it towards her body as she stretches. It reminds me of a cat. I pat her hip and head for the bathroom, relieving myself and taking a quick shower, before dressing in a pair of blue jeans and a light grey t-shirt. As I rejoin Cara in the bedroom, I see she’s fully awake now, yawning and trying to tame the rats' nest atop of her head.
A smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“Take a shower,” I instruct, “I’ll make breakfast.”
She yawns once more and sticks her tongue out in response to my request as I rummage through my suit jacket, locate my phone and leave the room. Alone in the hall, my smirk grows into a smile. I linger outside the bedroom door until I hear the shower being turned on, then I head downstairs to figure out some breakfast. I’m not that great a cook, but I’ve said it now, and I’m a man of my word.
Several texts and voicemails fill my phone and I skim through the messages as I head to the kitchen. Most are messages of love, support, and congratulations that I ignore. There’s one from Dante restating how proud of me he is and one from Sienna with a picture of Emilia stating that she misses me. My heart swells slightly as I open the voicemails and hit play, setting the phone down on the counter.
The first voice mail appears to be from a drunken Tony, who seems somewhat distraught that he can’t find me or the car, then remembers that he’s not driving tonight. I chuckle to myself as I rummage through the cupboards, eventually locating some box waffles.These will have to do.
Maybe I should take her out for breakfast?
I rip open the box and pull out two waffles, shoving them into the toaster. They immediately pop back up. I push the slider down again, and again they pop back up.
“Fucks sake.”
As the second voicemail rings on to what sounds like a drunk butt dial from someone, I investigate the toaster until I locate the chord that’s hanging down the other side of the counter.
It’s not even plugged in.
Luckily the mafia doesn’t rate members on their kitchen appliance skills. I plug the toaster in and shove the slider down once again, and this time it remains down.
Turning to the coffee pot next, I check the state of the beans as the third voicemail fills the kitchen with Archer’s voice. He sounds a little breathless as he speaks.