Page 38 of Ink

Pink dusted her cheeks, but she canted her head and whispered playfully, “Why don’t you show me how much?”

“Tutto per te, dolcezza,” I murmured before devouring her until I was full.

Then she wrapped her plush lips around my cock, and I fucked her mouth before she swallowed every drop of my come.

Still not completely satisfied, I pulled her up to her feet and flipped her around, placing her hands on the wall and tugging her ass out. Then I grabbed hold of her generous hips and fucked her from behind until we were both shouting with our release.

When we’d caught our breath, I cleaned us both up, dried us off, then carried her toward our bed. On the way, her stomach let out a loud growl, causing a deep laugh to burst from my lips.

“I want a cinnamon roll,” she announced, sounding ravenous as she licked her lips.

“Sure, baby. Anything else?”

“Ummm…olives? And…some pineapple.”

I gave her an odd look as I grabbed a pair of clean boxers and pulled them on.

“Get used to it, Matteo,” she teased. “The cravings are only going to get weirder.”

EPILOGUE

ANNIKA

Having Georgia’s best tattoo artist for a husband meant that I had more ink than I originally planned. And children who always had questions about them.

Lorenzo traced his finger over the first tattoo Matteo gave me. “This one’s for mynonnaandnonnowho are in heaven, right? Yourmammaandpapà?”

“It sure is,” I confirmed with a soft smile. “Which you already know because I’ve told you the story of how I met your father more times than I can count.”

I tickled his side, and his boyish laughter filled the air. When I stopped, he flashed me a sheepish grin. “I know, but you say all the time that I like to ask questions.”

Lorenzo had never grown out of the “why” stage from when he was three, which I lamented on a regular basis. “You have any more for me?”

“Yup.” He let the P at the end pop, his smile widening. “And this one is for the day you andPapàgot married?”

He pointed at the tattoo on my other thigh, a red heart with a heritage rose vine wrapped around it, the bloom on top, and the date of our anniversary in the middle. “It sure is. One of the best days of my life, along with when you and your sisters were born.”

He tugged at the bottom of my shirt so he could see the three dates inked on my rib cage. Poking the one on the top, he mumbled, “I know that, silly. This is my birthday.”

“And what a day it was.”

Unlike his sisters, who had stayed in my womb almost until they had to be cut out because I was a week overdue, Lorenzo had been impatient to be born. He came two full weeks before his due date, in the middle of the night, and we almost didn’t make it to the hospital in time. Which was extremely unusual for first-time mothers.

And he’d been in a rush ever since. He learned to run only a week after he took his first steps and raced his way through the rest of his eight years on this planet. Except for when he slowed down to ask questions. Lots of them.

His attention returned to my first tattoo again. “I can’t wait until I’m old enough forPapàto ink me.”

Although Mateo had no issues with breaking the law when necessary, he’d remained steadfast in his answer every time our son asked about getting his first tattoo. “When you’re eighteen.”

“So stupid,” he muttered with a frown.

“You better not be talking about yourmamma,” Matteo growled as he walked into the kitchen from the attached garage.

Lorenzo’s expression was horrified. “Of course not. I was talking about the minimum age to get a tattoo.”

Matteo nodded. “Ahh, that makes more sense.”

“It should because I’d never say anything bad about mymamma.” Lorenzo glared at him. “She’s the best.”

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