Raw Bloody Power

Epilogue

Rio

Almost two years later…

There’s a knock on the suite door as my dad finishes doing up my bow tie. One of my brothers answers it, and through my peripheral, I catch a flash of bright red amble into the room.

“Oh, brother-in-lawww,” a sing-song voice chimes.

I turn in time to find Lucia strutting toward me with a smirk on her crimson stained lips and a small envelope in hand.

One she passes my way, a mischievous gleam in her brown eyes. “Your wife requested I give you this before the ceremony.”

Before I can take it, curious as all hell, she pulls it out of reach and tips her head in warning. “For your eyes only, understand?”

My brow arches at that last bit, but I nod regardless. “Yes, ma’am. ”

Placing it in my hand, she rushes over to her husband—who’s taken residence on the chaise with a glass of whiskey—and pops a kiss on his lips.

“You look beautiful, Mrs. Belucci,” he hums appreciatively. “Hope you’re ready ’cause we might be trying for that boy tonight.”

My brothers laugh. Everyone does, really. Everyone except me, as I’ve stepped into the bathroom and ripped open the envelope.

The envelope containing a wallet-sized photo of Ivory.

Ivory in a red lingerie set, her head elegantly hanging off the edge of our bed, hair cascading to the floor in lustrous curls. Legs bent and crossed at the knees, she’s giving the camera those eyes—the fuck me eyes I can never resist. I’m surprised the photo doesn’t go up in flames and disintegrate to ash. That’s how hard I’m inspecting every detail, my mouth watering, cock jumping in excitement.

When I flip it over, I find her feminine script staring back at me:

Dear Husband,

This is the first of a few photos you’ll receive throughout the evening. Put them in your wallet and let them serve as a reminder that you’re no longer a single man who can act as recklessly as he pleases and put his life in danger.

Your wife expects you home every night.

I love you

I’m grinning like a fool.

But you know what? I do as I’m told, fishing my wallet free from my pocket and carefully laying the photo inside.

I can’t wait to see the next one.

Just when I thought Ivory couldn’t possibly be any more beautiful, she walked down that aisle. Took the breath right out of me, and I won’t even lie, big, fat tears welled in my eyes. I don’t know what I was expecting of her wedding dress, but it certainly wasn’t the all-black number clinging to every curve of her hourglass figure.

The lace sleeves starting just beneath her shoulders gave off the illusion of tattoos and I swear if I wasn’t standing on the altar in front family and friends, I might’ve done something very inappropriate while in the confines of church. Lifting the black lace veil and getting my first real peek at her heart-stoppingly gorgeous face was my favorite part.

Well, second to the moment the reverend announced us man and wife, that is. That monumental morsel will live rent free in my mind for the rest of my life.

“Husband, can you get me another drink?” Ivory asks, as we enjoy our first meal with all of our guests.

I glance over at the tumbler she’s holding out to me and mentally backtrack to how many trips I’ve taken to the bar thus far. “That was number three. I’m capping you after this one for at least an hour.” I take the proffered glass and set a kiss to her painted lips. “I want you coherent and fully functioning when we make it up to our room.”

A devious grin appears, followed by the beginnings of those fuck me eyes as she leans in closer. “Wanna know a secret?”

I nod. “Spill the tea, wife.”

“I have smelling salts in my purse,” she whispers. “Even an Ambien couldn’t keep me away from my cock tonight.” Her claws gently rake over said cock, grinding my jaw in the process.

Fucking. Hell.

“Keep it up and we’ll go upstairs right now,” I warn. “I don’t think our guests would appreciate us disappearing for the rest of the evening.”

Ivory chuckles and pecks my lips. “My drink, Mr. Guerra. I’m waiting.”

As much as I want to tell her to watch herself, that I’ll happily spank her right here for everyone to see, I keep my comments to myself and head for the bar. While I’m waiting for her drink, my mom bounces up beside me, drunk off her entire ass, and hands me another envelope. I wait until she’s out of sight—barely—before ripping the damn thing open. My jaw hits the floor.

I’m gonna nut in my fucking pants.

She’s naked, not a stitch of clothing aside from sky-high heels, on my bike, on the roof top. Our spot. A clear, night sky for the background. With her back pressed to the gas tank, the stems of her heels dig into the back seat, showing off the curves of those legs.

Jesus Christ.

I flip it over in my palm and read the note:

Don’t ask me how I got the bike on the roof.

That’s my little secret.

Once you’re done drooling, I need you to do something for me. Unlock your phone, scroll to your second page of app folders, and click on the last one titled “Mrs. Guerra.” Open up the app and when it loads, hit the middle button. Then find me.

Really hope you’re ready to not sleep tonight.

xoxo

Is she… No, she can’t be .

Following her instructions, I whip out my phone and tap my way into whatever scheme she has up her sleeve. When I risk a peek in her direction she’s already watching me, giving me a subtle bob of her head. Without looking at my screen, I click on the aforementioned button and her eyes roll softly, hands gripping the edge of the table for the support.

She is. She’s wearing a fucking remote controlled toy—at our wedding reception!

I flash her a devilish smile and nod in understanding.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

The third envelope comes from her mom, who’s also a bit past her limit when she sashays over to me and lovingly pats my chest. “I’ve got one word for you, son. Hydrate.” Her lips spread in a smile I’ve seen Ivory give me one too many times, and I instantly realize where the little minx gets it from.

She might be Daddy’s Little Princess, but she is most definitely her mother’s daughter.

I tip my head and slip out of the ballroom, nearly tearing the envelope to shreds. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, or edging Ivory for the last two hours, or these little presents she’s been giving me all night, but I’m solid as a goddamn rock in seconds flat.

There’s no way a photographer took this one, not with how obscenely intimate it is. A close-up of her on the floor, leaned back against our bed. From the chest up, it’s blurry, the clear focus honed in on her pussy and the way she spreads it with those perfectly manicured fingers, her engagement ring on full display. The note on the back doesn’t help my cause:

The one and only pussy you get to enjoy for the rest of your life.

- your wife

I’m gonna explode, hellbent on getting back to her and dragging her upstairs when I’m pulled into the dark alcove just before the ballroom doors. My back hits the wall, an ‘oof’ tumbling off my lips as Ivory comes into view.

“Mom told me she gave you the last envelope,” she purrs, walking her fingers up my chest. “You like?”

A feverish growl rumbles in my chest as I snatch her wrist and pull her arms around my neck. “No, I love. Every single one of them.”

“I’m glad ’cause there’s a whole album of them for you upstairs.”

“An album? You’re trying to kill me,” I groan, melting into her as she claims my lips. “I’m two seconds away from saying fuck this party and dragging you to our room.”

“Then it’s a good thing I told my mom I was going up there to change. We can pre-game and then come back down.” Waggling her eyebrows, she sets another lingering kiss to my lips.

Yep, my interests are piqued. “Define pre-game.”

“Your cock.” Kiss. “In my mouth.” Another kiss. “While you flip through that album.”

“Yes,” I blurt, nodding enthusiastically. “Right now, let’s go.”

Ivory chuckles and peels herself off of me, hauling me toward the elevator banks not far away. A few vacationers offer congratulations and well wishes as I smash my thumb into the up arrow, but my focus is purely on my wife.

My wife.

I don’t think I’ll ever tire of saying that.

Said wife spins in my hold just as the doors slide open and walks us back into the empty cart, locking her arms around me. “I love you.”

“I love you more, Mrs. Guerra,” I vow, completely marveling at how much we had to go through to get here . “Today, tomorrow— forever.”

THE END