Epilogue

"Stella, what do you think of this color?" My mother-in-law shows me a swatch with three colors, pointing to the middle. I love it, but I'm still not sure. Damiano has given me way too much control in the house, something I've never had before, and it's overwhelming. Tears fill my eyes, and I leave the room.

I rush to our bedroom and close the door, hating my reaction because I've just embarrassed myself. The quick movement of my husband's expensive shoes across the hall and into our bedroom startles me. He sits on the bed and reaches over to tip my chin. "Angel, look at me."

"Damiano, I can't." With my stepfather, I never had any choices in a single thing. After three months with my husband, there isn't a thing he doesn't allow me to do when it comes to the house. The chef comes to me about meals, any possible changes, and so does the housekeeping staff. It's crazy how much power I've been given. Even my new cell phone has every bit of capability as anyone else's. Not that I know what to do with most of it. Reading and texting Gracie and Damiano are my biggest uses of the device.

"Is my face hideous now? I mean, I can't do this. I'm not good at this much responsibility." I'm so overwhelmed.

"Wife, enough." I'm on his lap with a gasp. "Don't doubt yourself. You're fantastic at everything you've tried so far. You're only picking colors for the baby's room."

"But this is the third time I've changed my mind, and I'm probably driving your mother insane."

He chuckles, "Sweet angel, the only thing she cares about is that you're healthy, and that little one coming out so she can spoil him."

"But the painters…"

He presses his hand to my lips. "Can do whatever the fuck I tell them to do. They work for us, and if they've said something to you, you better tell me and I'll take care of it."

"They didn't, but…"

"No more buts. Although this one is very nice," he growls, rubbing my ass on his growing length. "Enough. I have some matters to deal with, so you can just relax, or you can go back and play with all the pretty palates and eat. I don't want you going without lunch."

"I love you, Damiano."

"I hope so. I live for those words now." He stares into my eyes, and then it's his eye color that has grown to be my favorite. We share a deep, passionate kiss. When we break apart, I say, "Walk me back down. I'm ready to go back and redecorate."

"That's my good girl." I love being his good girl and his bad girl, which he enjoys as well.

By the end of the week, the room has been completed and it's time to show him what I picked. "So let's see what you selected." He opens the door, and his mouth drops open. "Wow, it's perfect. That's a beautiful gray."

"I hope he loves it because it's the color of his daddy's eyes."

He turns to me and smiles. "My eyes?" A glint sparkles in those devilish grays that have enchanted me since we met.

"Yes. They've always captivated me, Damiano. I find comfort, love, and desire in them," I confess.

"Darling, beautiful wife, you couldn't have made this room any more special except when we settle our little son's head down to rest for the first time. I love you so much." He sweeps me into his arms and cradles me, bringing my lips to his. "I think we should christen this room to celebrate—on the lounger?"

"How about against the wall for a true color match?" I questioned.

"Fuck, baby girl. This is going to be hard and fast." He snarls and grunts, carrying me over to the wall, pinning me with his body as he lifts up my dress, tossing it over my head. "Wow, your tits are spectacular. Soon they're going to be bigger and full of my baby's meal, and mine." His mouth goes straight to my chest, sucking on my flesh. I throw my head back and cry out. They're so tender that every suck goes to my pussy like a nice jolt of pleasure. My thighs are flexing around his hips, grinding and trying to get my fix.

He's quick to adjust his hips and unleash himself. With a grateful sigh, I moan as he pushes inside me. "So damn tight," he grunts, slamming into me with force, rattling the new hanging frames on the wall.

"If anything breaks, I'll have it repaired, but I'm not stopping until you're screaming my name, Wife."

I cling to him as he violently thrusts into my core, wrecking my heart and soul with his need. Our mouths connect, tasting and kissing in pants and moans. Breathy cries follow every pump, and then I shatter in an intense orgasm. "Damiano," I shout, clawing his back and probably ruining his expensive dress shirt.

"Stella, Stella. Yes, come on my cock. Soak that fucker." He pumps into me, filling me up until there's nothing left, and drops his head on my shoulder with his hands pressed firmly on the painted wall behind him. When I finally catch my breath, I grab his cheeks and lift his head. Those sexy, satiated eyes meet mine and I say, "Yep, it's a perfect match."