Page 139 of Giovanna

The grand old desk is creaking and my body is rocked by every thrust. She curls her fingers to hit the spot inside me and I begin to fall apart. I’m begging and praying and making all sorts of animalistic noises I’ve never made before.

“Come for me, darlin’. Come, baby,” her voice is soothing and sexy. I want to spend my life on my knees and my back for this woman. She is everything I have ever wanted.

I come hard, crying out her name and she kisses me all over my face until I squirm away giggling. “I love you so much, Gio,” I whisper, not used to saying it out loud.

“I love you too, baby,” she responds, scooping me up and carrying me through the internal door to her bedroom. Our bedroom, I guess.

“No more fucking for you tonight, my wounded soldier,” she teases, dropping me gently onto the bed and climbing in behind me. “I probably shouldn’t have been so rough with you just now.”

“I didn’t mind,” I grin. “But I’m happy with cuddles now…So long as you’re here when I wake up in the morning.”

Epilogue

Giovanna

“Oh my sweet boy, I do love you, but you’re getting under mummy’s feet.” Walking into our bedroom I hear my wife talking to our toddler in the walk-in wardrobe.

“Xavier Marino!” I call out and immediately hear a little squeal of excitement followed by the unsteady pitter patter of chubby toddler legs in full pelt.

“Mama!” he shouts as he flings himself at me. Knowing exactly what he wants, I throw him in the air, catch him, and twirl him around. He giggles with glee.

“Have you been good today, son?” I ask him and he nods solemnly.

“Did you look after mummy and her big bump?” He nods again.

I look up to see his mummy, my beautiful Francesca, in the doorway to our wardrobe. She wears a deep purple fitted sleeveless dress. It hugs her stunning figure and stretches over her enormous baby belly.

Our twins are due any day now and then we will be blessed and cursed with three babies under the age of two. She always said she wanted lots of kids.

Carrying Xav on my hip, I eagerly make my way over to her, desperate for a kiss after 12 hours apart.

“Hey darlin’,” I whisper, kissing her gently. “How are you feeling? We don’t have to stay late tonight, Matty will understand.”

“I feel like a woman who has spent the day wrangling a chaotic toddler while heavily pregnant with twins,” she teases. “Tonight will be fun. I can’t wait to celebrate another Marino tying the knot.”

She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me deeply. “We might need to leave Xav with one of his uncles for a little bit though.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” I play along.

“Because mummy needs some alone time with mama.”

“Oh I see, well Mummy can have Mama whenever she wants,” I kiss her again, then pull back, sighing and looking at our little boy.

He is gorgeous and such a Marino. He is dark enough that Elio or Matty is probably his biological father, but all three of my brothers donated while we were trying to get pregnant and we intentionally don’t know whose swimmers were successful. Our son is a perfect mix of Marino and Rossi.

Matty’s wedding is beautiful and there isn’t a dry eye in the house when he tears up as his beautiful bride walks down the aisle to him. They’re such an unusual couple in many ways, but I couldn’t have picked anyone better for my stoic brother.

As tends to happen at Famiglia events, I get stuck at a table as family member after family member approaches me to show respect or let me know of what is happening in their lives. I watch my wife from afar as she works the room like the queen she is. Never have I ever met someone so graceful and dignified as Francesca Marino. Well, apart from that time she smashed up Elio’s car.

Xavier is tired. He has his little head on her shoulder and his arms around her neck. I need to relieve her as soon as possible because the little bugger is getting heavy and for some unfathomable reason Francesca insisted on wearing five-inch heels while full-term with twins.

Francesca smiles so widely when she spots me walking towards her that I’m struck with the evergreen feeling that I am not worthy of her. My angel. My wife.

Massimo beats me over to her and extracts an exhausted Xavier from her arms. He doesn’t wake as he is transferred to his youngest uncle’s chest nor when Massi plants several kisses on his forehead.

“Massi, can you watch him for a bit? I need Giovanna to help me with something,” Francesca asks innocently.

“Sure,” he grins. “I hope that G gives you all the help you need.” He winks.

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