Tales of Darkness & Sin - Pepper Winters Page 0,49
than beautiful.
Exquisite.
She bent slowly to retrieve something from the chest of drawers, thin thighs spread, plump ass tipped to the sky, so I could see the dark shadow of her sex even from a distance.
My cock was hard as a steel pipe.
I watched with my heart in my throat as she shimmied into a pair of black underwear that barely covered her ass. As she moved to the side of her bed, I noticed, with a shock like ice water dumped over my head, she had a vase filled with lilies.
Mind numb, I watched as she plucked a bloom and laid back on the bed to trail the silken petals over the small swell of her breasts, then down, down to her pussy, where she swirled the petals the way I was sure I’d once swirled my tongue.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed and stood up so abruptly my chair fell over and my flask dropped with a clang to the rooftop.
As if drawn by my expletive, the woman named Capulet, the woman I knew more intimately than God, rolled over on the bed so her face was in full view of the window.
Lily in hand, smile affixed to a face that had somehow grown even more beautiful, Liliana Vitali locked eyes with me across the street, across three years and a lifetime of regret, and erased all of it with a single wink.
Lily
Six Years Later
This was probably the last scene my husband would expect to come home to—homemade food spread across our kitchen island like I was some sort of domestic goddess. He would call bullshit, and he’d be right.
Lucy Black had made it.
My twins were on the balcony, fighting over the attention of her son. She stood in front of the oven, adjusting the temperature, wearing the apron neither I nor Frankie had ever worn in the six years we’d owned this Central Park brownstone.
(In my defense, New York take out is the best. Hands down.)
I cocked my hip against the island and watched her. “Smells good.”
“It’s lasagna.” She moved to the stove and tasted the sauce simmering in a pot. “Asher’s favorite.”
“I should’ve added pasta con le sarde to our menu.” A smirk curved my lips upright. “It’s Frankie’s favorite.”
Lucy scrunched her nose. “Ew. Pasta with sardines? Really? Sounds like cat food.”
“Well, he does like pussy…”
She swung to face me, jaw a little slack, before her head pivoted to the open balcony door to make sure the kids hadn’t heard. “Damn it, Lil! This is why I made the kids play outside!”
I tipped a shoulder up and nodded at the empty wine bottle. “I thought it was because you wanted to day drink.”
She erupted into giggles. “That, too.”
When I’d landed in New York, Renata had hooked me up with the Romano family. They were my suppliers, while I was one of their top distributers. An added bonus—I’d met one of my best friends Lucy. She was married to their former fixer, billionaire real estate and tech mogul Asher Black.
Frankie and I had carved out a nice life in New York, better than we could have ever imagined. He worked for the Salvatore family. I worked with the Romano family. And every night, we came home to our kids, barely able to keep our hands off one another long enough to feed the girls and help them with their homework.
The front door creaked open. At the sound, the kids sprinted to the entryway. If they could hear the door open, they’d probably heard my pussy comment. In my defense, Frankie wasn’t any better at keeping it PG.
“A pussy is a cat!” I yelled out, just in case my kids decided to Google it.
Lucy groaned at the same time Asher said from the hallway, “Did she just say what I think she said?”
My husband, my dearest defender, replied, “Probably.”
“We’re in here!” I shouted out, stealing a red velvet macaroon from the counter.
Frankie entered, followed closely by Asher. He eyed the spread and nodded at it. “Thanks for the lunch, Luce.”
“Hey, I helped!” I picked up a Himalayan salt shaker, thought better of ruining one of the dishes, and gave up on proving my point.
“Sure, you did.” He plucked the shaker from my fingers and tossed it on the counter. Then, he folded me into his arms, copped a feel of my ass, and whispered in my ear, “Liars get spanked.”
I tipped my head up, rested my chin on his chest, and quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you think I lied?”