King of Stars (The Next Generation #2)

31. Stella

Chapter 31

Stella

A s soon as our feet hit the ground right outside of the church, underneath a flower archway full of white roses and forget-me-nots, Matteo took my face in his hands and kissed me again. It was a kiss that echoed the first one we had shared as man and wife just a few minutes ago.

It was a kiss that stopped time.

My eyes were closed, my breath ragged, when we pulled apart.

“I will never see anyone, or anything, as beautiful as you are in this moment. My wife.”

I couldn’t seem to catch my breath to respond. I nodded into his embrace and let his words sink into my heart. When I finally opened my eyes, Mia was there, without either of us noticing, her camera in hand. She lowered it, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She ran to us, hugging us both.

Before I knew it, we were walking toward the reception, which was set up outside of Brando and Scarlett’s villa.

What Scarlett had planned for us was breathtaking.

The “reception” tent had thousands of flowers, the same ones that created the archway outside of the church, and they seemed to cling to it. The outside tables were filled with flowers. Bulb lights hung from tree to tree.

Nothing was as beautiful as the millions of stars swirling above our heads.

After more pictures were taken—this time by someone Pnina had sent, because it was clear to see Mia was already tired, her due date fast approaching—Matteo and I stood next to each other to welcome the guests. He set his hand on my hip and pulled me close. He introduced me to each man, to each couple, from his vast family. I expected the women to be blown away by the veil, but it was apparent the men were moved by it more than the women, who mostly complimented me on my gown, or how I made such a beautiful bride next to such a handsome groom. Some checked out my wedding rings.

Magpie hugged us both, crying, with Nonno next to her, looking so proud, I thought he’d burst out of his tux. And after Magpie had heard some of the women complimenting me, she whispered in my ear, “Whenever they do that to you, or your future children, always say…kiss my ass, or baby boy or baby girl’s ass, under your breath. The woman might be putting the malocchio on you or your family.” She nodded seriously and took Nonno’s arm as they walked toward the gathering party.

I looked at Matteo.

“Better safe than sorry.” He shrugged. “ Malocchio is the jealous eye.”

“Okay,” I said, and every time a women said something nice to me, I’d say what Magpie told me under my breath. By the time we were through with the greetings and thank yous, a lot of women were going to be kissing my ass.

Rocco and Rosaria stepped up to greet us next. Rocco kissed each of my cheeks and hugged us both. Rosaria watched, not saying anything, but when she went to walk away, she threw a snide, “Good luck, little girl; you will need it,” over her shoulder.

Before Matteo could stop me, I grabbed her wrist and squeezed, just like we were having a tender moment, even if her face didn’t hide her snarl. “You have no idea what I’ve lived through,” I whispered. “You are a sloppy monster compared to the one who had me locked in a prison. I would have killed to get out. And now I’d kill for my husband. My family. Don’t fuck with me or mine.”

She looked into my eyes, and she knew I meant it. She ripped her wrist from my hold, and after she walked ahead, Rocco stared at me for a second and then nodded.

Matteo didn’t look shocked at my action or my words. He looked…more in love with me than ever, like I’d turned him into mush this time.

“You make my heart roar,” he whispered in my ear. “You awoke the lion inside of me. I was a man before, but now I am man and animal.”

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the warmth of his breath and words wash over me. “You awoke something inside of me too. A lioness, your lioness, and I hunt for you only.”

We stepped back and gazed into each other’s eyes, then nodded at the same time.

I could tell, though, that Matteo wasn’t having any family business during our time. He didn’t seem to care who was around; his attention was on me. And when we had our first dance in the reception tent, we gazed into each other’s eyes as Nonno had another duet with a different woman, this time to “Da Stanotte in Poi” (From This Moment On), and like our first kiss, we were sealed in a moment that made the world fade and our connection fuse us together like a never-ending band.

He sang to me in Italian, and I sang to him in English.

Scarlett, Brando, Mia, Saverio, Mariano, Marciano, and Maestro surrounded us after, and we all danced together to “Stand By Me.” Right before the song ended, Brando asked his son permission to dance with his wife.

Matteo nodded and gave him my hand.

He was a good dancer, and I told him so.

He nodded. “I learned from the best.”

“Scarlett.”

“Maggie Beautiful too.”

I nodded, and after a second, he went to say something but stopped himself.

I cleared my throat. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it. Matteo is teaching me that. That sometimes words are hard. I know what you’re trying to tell me, Papà Fausti. That you’re happy I make your son happy, and that I’ll always take care of him.”

We stopped moving and he just…stared at me. Love and appreciation were so strong in his eyes, the combination was making my eyes water.

He lifted my hand, placing a warm kiss on it. “It pleases me that you and my son will take care of each other, like Scarlett and I have taken care of each other. Thank you, Stella. Thank you. You give my wife and I a reason to be thankful.”

With that, he left me staring after him on the dance floor, having taken Scarlett’s hand and leading her to a darker part of the party. Maybe to compose himself?

Matteo wrapped me in his arms and kissed my cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling through tears. “Your father just gave me something that would blow a hug out of the water.”

He smiled against my skin. “He’s known to do that from time to time.” He took me by the hand and led me toward the tables where the food would be served.

Matteo fed me bites of everything, refusing to let me feed myself.

It seemed like the party was just getting started, couples dancing, and I decided to change into a second dress. I wanted Matteo to be surprised again, so I asked him to wait for me while the women helped me into the new gown.

He was waiting for me when I walked outside.

He brought me close to his body, making me gasp from the power in his hands, and whispered in my ear, “No man but me touches you in this dress.”

It was ivory and flirty, landing just past my thighs, with a big bow on the back, the ribbons almost touching the floor. The high heels sparkled. My shoulders were bare, and he kept kissing them, my neck too, making me shiver.

He’d meant his words too. He kept me pressed to him the entire night.

We danced.

We laughed.

We ate some more. This time I fed him bites of cake, refusing to let him feed himself.

We drank some more—water and one glass of champagne for me.

We danced even more.

I cried happy tears.

We laughed even harder.

And as our guests saw us off with sparklers, I held tight to my husband— my husband! —as we left his parents’ villa, the horses and carriage trotting along toward our Tuscan castello . Matteo had his arm wrapped around my neck, our hands entwined, both of our left hands sparkling with new promises.

He gazed at me. I gazed up at the stars.

Nothing seemed real. It almost felt like the air was made of helium, and I of something other than flesh, blood, and bone. Something that could just float.

The weather was beautiful—tepid and breezy, and I felt like I could just melt into my husband, this night, refusing to move forward. But there was so much to look forward to, I knew this was only the beginning of nights like these for us.

Maybe this was how the stars felt when they settled into a dark sky to shine. They had a promise of now and forever to look forward to.

I started to hum our first-dance song. Matteo filled in the gaps with the lyrics, singing just like Nonno had. Nonno’s voice was deeper, but I had a feeling that, as Matteo aged, his voice would too, but like a fine bourbon. When we both grew quiet, no sound other than the clack , clack , clack of the horse and the wheels of the carriage, I sighed, and he sighed.

We both laughed, and then, setting his hands on each side of my face, as gentle as the wind, his skin as warm as the weather, he leaned in and kissed me.

He kissed the sense straight out of me, because I had no clue we had arrived home until he whispered against my lips, “Ready, Mrs. Fausti?”

“For what?” I breathed.

“Forever.”

“ Sì, sì, sì, ” I whispered against his lips.

He stepped out of the carriage, put his arms around me and lifted me off my feet, carrying me over the threshold of our castello , just like he’d done the day he bought it for me. He didn’t set me down until we were in our room.

“Who did this?” My voice was a mirror of what it was outside. A breathless whisper.

Someone had come in and lit candles from one end of the room to the other, a rose between our pillows, petals scattered on the comforter. The scent of the room…I’d never forget it. It smelled like someone took his cologne and mine and created candles out of them. Together, they created a sensual scent that took our essences and made them one. The candles flickered, giving the room such a romantic glow.

“Magpie, mamma, and Mia, I expect.” His hold on me grew tighter, and my breath felt even shallower.

My heart felt like it might pound hard enough to break a rib, and my knees didn’t feel solid. A cool bead of sweat ran down my neck. I was nervous as all get out. The way my new husband kept looking at me all night was like I was a meal he’d been starving for all his life.

He turned me around and touched the big bow on the back of the mini gown. “You wore this for me.”

He didn’t truly ask, but I answered like he had. “I did,” I breathed out, looking over my shoulder at him. “I want you to unwrap me.”

He turned me so fast, I gasped, but he only seemed to inhale and steal it for himself as he walked me backward to the wall, pressing me against it. He was a rock in front of me. His eyes searched mine—so deep, he was invading me in a space he’d never been before. A place I had never felt before inside of me.

“What?” I barely got out, not able to take the intensity in his eyes. There was a storm behind those dark irises.

“You made vows to me on sacred ground.”

“I did.”

“In front of God and our family.”

“I did.” Another bead of sweat rolled down my neck, and leaning forward, he licked it up.

I shivered.

We gazed at each other, so deep, it was like I was looking at the dark sky, and he was looking at a star—me. I ran my hands underneath the lapels of his tuxedo jacket.

“I know what you’re saying to me without saying a word,” I whispered.

He lifted a thick eyebrow. “Speak for me, my wife.”

I cleared my throat and entangled the expensive fabric of his tux between my fingers, just like I wanted to entangle myself with him between the sheets. I didn’t try to mimic his voice but echo it. “I claimed you the moment I saw you, but tonight will be different. You are my wife , and I’ll be so deep inside of you, I’ll be inside of your soul. There will be nowhere to run to, because I’ll be in every muscle, every bone, deep inside your heart, rushing through your blood.”

He closed his eyes for a second, like he was breathing me in, and then opened them. My heart rate spiked, and it was like he’d heard it. I didn’t think it was possible, but…his pupils had dilated, and the intensity in his eyes was at an incomprehensible level, yet he ran his knuckle tenderly down my face. So wild, yet so controlled. “ Perfetto ,” he whispered, taking my hand and running my wedding rings underneath his bottom lip. He’d paired a band with the star engagement ring.

“Your eyes, Matteo,” I whispered. “The rest of the world can’t see what’s underneath their depths, but I can.”

“That’s because you’re my light,” he said, his voice almost hoarse.

“I’ll always be your light,” I whispered, and this time, when I went to touch his face, he stopped me by wrapping his hand around my wrist. Instead of my heart pounding against him, my pulse did.

He looked so deep into my eyes, I could feel him where he’d said he was going. My soul. “You are so beautiful, la mia stella . The most beautiful woman to me .”

This time, I met his stare and tried to challenge it with the truth in mine. “You’ve said that to me a million times tonight, Matteo.”

His eyes narrowed. “I haven’t said it enough.”

“You have,” I said, wriggling my wrist free and touching his face. “Your eyes. Your eyes speak the truth to me. They make me feel everything, and it’s like a secret, a secret between us. Secrets that the world has no business knowing. These secret things are between us.”

He slid his hand underneath my hair, pulling my lips to his, and we started to kiss. It was a kiss that made me close my eyes and fade away from the real world.

In this world he brought me to, it was just the two of us.

As we kissed, we undressed each other, and I thought Matteo Fausti should have come with a bow bigger than mine.

He was his father’s son. His grandfather’s grandson.

He’d inherited all their sharp lines—a bone structure most models would be jealous of, but he was more rugged than that. Wild in a way that wouldn’t work on a catwalk but would out in the wilds of his life. He was tall, much taller than me, well over six feet, and wider than me, but with well-defined muscles in all the right places. Broad shoulders. Thin waist. Muscular arms that seemed to match all the taut ripples in his stomach. He had a deep V that I traced with my fingertips, loving that he couldn’t control his reaction to my touch. A shiver ran through him.

His skin was dark olive, and not entirely flawless. He had scars that had come from his lifestyle. A nick here and there from sword fighting with his family. The time a man tried to shoot him, and the bullet had grazed his shoulder. He had tattoos that told a story of who he was. What he stood for. And, as I traced my fingertips over the star tattoo, feeling him shiver again at my touch, who he would always love.

Me.

His irises were mahogany, and when he looked at me, I was the brightest thing in them. His stella. And I loved that no matter if he was a million feet away or this close, I would always be able to know his thoughts.

His hair…as inky as the night sky, and as glossy as dark water underneath moonlight.

His lips were soft but somehow firm when they kissed me.

Inhaling, I breathed him in, thinking his scent was like a drug to me.

I couldn’t have chosen a favorite part of him if I tried—if my life depended on it—because altogether, he was more than I could have ever dreamed of.

Our hands seemed to be directed by our hearts, which were beating like we might die in the next second if we didn’t find life in each other. It was like we were clawing, trying to get so far underneath each other’s skin to find what we both desperately needed.

The connection that sucked me toward wherever he was, and he wherever I was, felt like the warm air circulating around our room. I could feel it between us. It was making me hot, breathless, needy for all of him.

He leaned closer and whispered against the pulse in my neck, “I need you now, my wife. Need to be inside of you more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he lifted me up, carrying me over to our four-poster bed. It had a real fancy gold princess canopy that shielded our bed from the world. Matteo set me down on it, and his tongue started to make slow work of my skin.

“ Mmm matteo,” I almost whimpered. It seemed like he was going over my skin, his tongue refusing to miss an inch. The way he was flicking his tongue, caressing with it, biting a little… I was starting to squirm. I wanted him inside of me— now.

He said something in Italian, but the words were like another note in a symphony. I registered it, but I was too focused on the entire song.

His hands came over my hips, pinning me down some. “Still yourself, my wife,” he whispered against my heart. “Let me enjoy what’s all mine.”

I didn’t even bother trying to tame my breathing. I was too far gone. Especially after he started to whisper words to me in Italian—all over my skin, puckering it. And when he blew cool air against my nipples, I started to buck my hips, desperate for him to fill me up. He stilled me with his hands again, but this time, he took my leg and wedged it up. His cock was so close to my entrance, and his eyes were on mine.

“All that I am, I give to you,” he whispered, his voice like pebbles rolling across my skin. “All that is mine is yours. You are my life. My wife. And I serve your body only.” And with that, he pushed into me for the first time as my husband.

He closed his eyes and groaned.

I watched his gorgeous face and whimpered.

Neither of us could control the need for each other.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me again. Who am I to you?”

“My husband,” I barely got out. He was pushing into me so deep, I needed to hold on to something, claw at something, sink my teeth into something. My hands came to his back, and my nails clawed at his skin.

He hissed, but pushed even deeper into me, groaning deep in his throat as he did. “Whose body serves yours and yours only?”

“Yours,” I whispered.

He pulled almost all the way out, and coming back with a harder thrust, almost sent me into the headboard, but he was too in control to let my head hit it.

“Tell me again,” he said.

“Yours,” I said louder.

“ Mine ,” he said, melting into my skin, sliding into my bloodstream, going straight for the place he vowed to me he would. My soul. We were already tangled, and whatever we were doing—something that felt more intense than making love—was making sure we would never be able to unravel.

“Yours, yours, yours ,” I whispered, and instead of clawing him, I used my fingertips to glide along his ribs.

“What you do to me, my wife,” he said through pleasurable noises. “What you do to me…I can’t even put into fucking words.” He stretched me, pushed even deeper, and I almost wanted to open my legs wider, lessen the pressure that was building in my uterus. I couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t escape him. But I realized. He wanted me there. He demanded that I feel what he was and not run from it. Lessen it. Feel it deep inside of my soul.

That was what this was.

A finalization of the vows we’d spoken earlier.

A fusing together of two people into one.

He started to move faster, even deeper, and as he did, our eyes were locked, our mouths whispering what we felt.

“ Ti amo .”

“I love you.”

I couldn’t stand the pressure for another second and called out his name. He called out mine, and we seemed to crash into each other at the same time. He rested his forehead on mine, and we breathed each other in, the silence in our room suddenly seeming so loud. But it didn’t lessen the peace that washed over my heart and soul.

I used my fingertips to caress his sides, and he sighed.

“Matteo?” My voice sounded rough, like I’d been screaming, but I hadn’t been. Not that I could remember.

“Yeah, baby?”

“All that I am, I give to you. All that is mine is yours.” I cleared my throat. “I hope you felt that just now.”

He lifted some, gazing at me. “I feel that every time you look at me.” Leaning in, he kissed me between the eyes, and then his hands started to move, and I settled into the feelings that were overtaking me again.

For the next few seconds, all I could think was…everyone lied. We’re not made of anything solid, but helium. I could float. Float straight up and touch the stars.

Then…

Matteo.

All Matteo.

He brought me higher, higher, higher, all night long, until I could have sworn I was really a star burning in his vast, dark, dark, dark sky.

For him only.