Page 83 of Twins for the Mafia Heir

Emma wraps her arms around my neck and begins to roll her pelvis into mine, grinding her clit against my erection. She whimpers, pressing her forehead against mine. I breathe in her sweet scent, memorize the flutter of her lashes against my skin. Her body coils against mine as she chases her pleasure. My hands squeeze her ass, pulling her closer, forcing her legs open wider, running her clit up and down the full length of my cock until we’re both moaning. When I feel her slick lubricating me, when I feel like her orgasm is about to break, I lift her up and plunge myself inside her.

Emma screams, her back arching as bliss explodes through her. Her nails dig into my back, clutch at my hair. I bury my face in her sternum and pound into her hard and fast, dragging out her every sensation until they spill over into another orgasm.

I need to be deeper. I need to slap against her harder. I need more than I’ve ever had before.

Cradling her head in my hands, I tip her back onto the bed and lift her legs up over my shoulders. She’s limp with pleasure and complies with every tug of my hands. And when I slam into her anew, she screams like she’s never been fucked before. Gravity bears me down, driving me deeper and deeper into her pussy. I’m ready to cum, but I’m not ready to stop. It takes all my concentration to maintain my punishing rhythm without giving into my own pleasure, but I have to hold out. Just another second longer-

My body releases, my cum spilling into her body as I thrust home. White hot revelry shoots down my spine, leaving my fingers tingling, my arms and legs trembling. For a moment I stay where I am with Emma beneath me, her legs still up overher head, just soaking in this moment of ecstasy. Her grey eyes are locked onto mine, her cheeks flushed, her skin dewy with sweat.

She’s gorgeous, and she’s here, and she’s mine.

Slowly, carefully, I bend her completely double as I lower myself to tenderly kiss her lips. Emma hums into my mouth, a gorgeous little sound I’ll chase forever after. Then I pull out of her and collapse by her side.

We lie tangled together and gasping for air, and for the first time since we’ve met I feel like we aren’t pressed for time or haunted by uncertainty. This is the beginning.

And because I’ve never actually asked her the question, I do it now.

“Will you marry me, Emma?” I whisper into her hair.

She laughs against my skin, sleepy and sated. Her face tips back so her eyes can meet mine. When she cups my face in her hands, I feel the metal of her wedding ring against my cheek. “Yes. I will, Achilles.”

Epilogue

Emma: One Year Later

The crowd in the church is a small one, but it’s a friendlier sight than a gloomy drawing room manned by a single priest and some paperwork. There aren’t huge flower arrangements or banners or even a color scheme. Still, this is more than I ever dreamed my wedding would be like.

Paul walks me down the aisle. His eyes haven’t been dry all morning, but he manages to keep himself together long enough to get me to the altar. When he hugs me at the foot of the shallow steps, I bury my face in his shoulder, more grateful than I can ever say, not just for today, but for his love and guidance since the day we met. He’s been more of a father to me in the short time I’ve known him than mine ever was.

Then I just have to climb up three steps, and I’m face to face with my husband- my groom- Achilles Ashwood. The irony of being handed off to my groom by the man my groom once shot in the arm isn’t lost on me, but neither of the men hold grudges against each other. In fact, Achilles holds nothing but respect for Paul now, especially after I shared my real past with him.

My groom has never been more beautiful than he is now, dressed in a white suit with black lapels, a burgundy rose tucked into his breast pocket. The most gorgeous part of Achilles, ofcourse, is his smile, bright and uninhibited and awakened just for me. He’s been through so much misery in his life, but when he looks at me, I know he’s found the strength to begin again.

I hand my little bouquet to my maid of honor, Raleigh, who’s beaming from ear to ear and looks stunning in a little green dress that matches her eyes. I hope that everyone in the church appreciates the humor of having the woman whose name I stole for a month, the name Achilles first knew me by, standing on the dais butnotbeing the bride.

Raleigh certainly does. She laughed about it during our entire bar-hopping extravaganza last night.

The priest begins his speech, but I know this song and dance and don’t bother to listen. I’m too busy smiling at my past and future husband, and all the friends who loved me enough to come join me on this big day. Paul is sitting down next to Iris, who shocks me by looking a little misty-eyed herself. Clara and Thomas Warwick are here, along with Derrick Lindman and baby Roman Lindman. The Ashwoods who helped liberate us from Wesley Hall have all turned out in their best looks too, including Skylar Ashwood, who ended up making a full recovery.

And looking like a fairy tale princess in her little pink dress, Sidony sits in the front row with a blinding smile and eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Beside her, sleeping soundly through this entire affair, are her new baby brothers, Simon and Jamie Ashwood, the most beautiful and healthy twins I could ever hope for.

At first, Achilles and I had been eager to be officially married. But I didn’t want to make the mistake of taking for granted all the people who cared about me a second time. Raleigh and Paul, Iris, and even Thomas had worried for me while I was gone, had even been ready to come rescue me. I wanted them here to celebrate the happy ending of it all, and that would take a little more pre-planning than our drawing room wedding thefirst time around. And once schedules started to clash and my morning sickness ramped up, we decided it would be better to wait until after our babies were born to nail everything down.

If I hadn’t had Achilles and Sidony at my side every moment supporting me, I don’t know how I would have made it through. Sidony helped me pick out extra baby clothes for her new siblings, Achilles had one of the rooms in Ashwood House renovated into a gorgeous nursery that he surprised me with, and the Lindmans even flew out to stay with us so Raleigh could be with me for the birth of my babies.

When I held their two tiny bodies in my arms, despite all the pain and fatigue, I wept with a happiness brighter than any I’d ever felt before.

The priest prompts us to exchange rings, and Achilles’s best man, his cousin Harper, holds out the two bands for us. He’s doing the job of the one person missing from this perfect moment- Piers, who disappeared the day Achilles put Fantasia on a plane out of London, and who hasn’t returned since.

Curious.

We’re still wearing our first set of wedding rings, our matching moss agate rings that we’ve never removed. We didn’t want to replace them, since for us they symbolize all we’ve been through together, but reusing them for this ceremony didn’t feel right either. So we picked out a second set of rings, two bands of yellow gold engraved with a braid pattern, a symbol of our fresh start.

Achilles slips my ring onto my finger, and I put his ring onto his, a year to the day after we exchanged our rings for the very first time in that little shop in Edinburgh. The priest prompts us, and Achilles lifts me off my feet and kisses me. Our little audience cheers, but he’s all I know.

Two days later, Achilles, Sidony, the twins, and I are sprawled on the beach of Jost Van Dyke, the Caribbean sun warming our skin. Despite the tropical weather of our family honeymoon, we didn’t forget that today is Christmas. The entire morning was spent opening a mountain of presents in our private beachside bungalow, which included toys and books and dresses for Sidony, and about a thousand new clothes for Simon and Jamie, who are already growing too fast.

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