I'm feeling generous so I gift you all a bonus chapter. You are welcome.
And no I didn't write this because I definitely don't miss Bianca and Raphael...
Maybe a little.
Bianca POV:
Exiting my room, I closed the door behind me. As I walked through the hallway, A delicious scent came from downstairs. Intrigued, I descended the staircase and entered the kitchen.
Raphael stood over the stove, stirring a pot of pasta, along with a pan filled with red sauce beside it. Tilting my head to the side, I watched closely. Trying not to get too excited over the fact that my boyfriend was actually cooking.
He rarely cooked.
Other than the couple times he made me pancakes for breakfast, I never saw him in the kitchen. I wasn't sure why, as I was almost certain that he was a very talented chef.
When I approached him, I noticed that he was wearing a pink apron... my mother's apron to be exact. She was the only family member here who owned one, so I guess he didn't have any other options.
"This thing suits you." I pulled at the apron, causing him to turn around.
"I agree," Raphael responded confidently, glancing down at himself. "Pink truly is my colour, don't you think?"
I hummed in approval. He wrapped an arm around me as he continued to stir and cook the pasta, adding seasoning when needed.
"You're cooking? What's the special occasion?"
"I wanted to try Valentina's famous recipe." He dipped the spoon in the spaghetti sauce and lifted it to my mouth. "See if I could do it better than her... was I successful?"
Gently, he pushed the spoon past my lips, allowing me a taste. The sauce touched my tongue, and I tried my best not to visibly show how good it was. Raphael's ego was already big enough.
"It's amazing." I licked my lips, smiling at him. "But don't tell my mother, she doesn't need to know that you cook better than her."
He grinned. "That's not the only reason I decided to cook for us tonight."
I stepped away, resting my back on the counter. Eagerly waiting to hear his other reason, I ran a hand through my hair. "Hmm? What is it?"
Raphael smoothed the apron over his chest, stepping towards me. He grabbed my waist and placed me on the counter, standing between my thighs.
We had a lot of sex. On almost every surface in the penthouse to be exact. Including this counter. It was highly inappropriate, but we were two very horny people. We fucked like rabbits, and I loved it.
"So, I've been thinking..." he trailed, dragging his hand up my leg, from my ankle to my hip. "We should get married."
My heart felt like it stopped beating for a moment.
Married? He wanted to get married? Marriage? Like a wedding? Was he serious?
Things were so good between us, I didn't even think about that. Commitment wasn't one of my strong suits, so naturally, I was nervous.
Marriage meant forever. And of course, there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to spend the rest with this man, but what if things went bad? What if we couldn't last? Then what would happen?
Divorce.
"Stop it." He leaned in, pressing sweat kisses along my jaw, his other hand sliding up and down my back. "Stop thinking so hard."
I couldn't.
The only example of marriage I had was my parents. Their relationship was awful. I hadn't even seen them hug within the last couple of years before my father died. The last thing I wanted was to turn out like them.
"But what if-" my words cut off as I felt his fingers linger over the top of my leggings, playing with the waistband, teasing me. "What if something happens, what if you don't love me as much as you think you do?"
"I love you more than anything in this world, Bianca." He kissed my forehead, and I couldn't help but place my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. "And you love me, don't you?"
"I do."
And I did.
Raphael was the centre of my life. I couldn't have gotten through anything without him. He cared for me even when he should have been caring for himself, and because of that, I am forever grateful.
"You know what else you love?" His hand slipped into my panties, his thumb briefly brushing over me.
I let out a harsh breath, my eyes closing for just a second. "What...what else do I love?"
"My body, and what it does to yours." Raphael kissed my neck, and I wound my fingers through his thick dark curls. "I bet you think about my head between your legs all fucking day, no?"
"No, I would never." I did. I thought about it all fucking day. "That would be excessive."
"Really?" He chuckled softly, dipping a finger inside me. "Because she says otherwise."
He was referring to the wetness coating his hand. My boyfriend loved to mock me, and I couldn't even argue because he was right. Every time we touched, it felt like my soul was leaving my body.
Raphael began to rub small circles, and I couldn't help but try to close my legs. That only pulled him closer, and I gasped once he started to pull my leggings down.
"Non ascoltarla," I stated, not fighting the fact that my pants were now around my ankles. "Lei ha una mente tutta sua."
(don't listen to her, she has a mind of her own)
"Come potrei non ascoltare?" He ignored my warning, pushing my back onto the counter and lifting my legs so he could place his head through them. "Your pussy is begging to be pleased. Come potrei dire di no a questo?"
(how could I not listen? How could I say no to that?)
His mouth closed over me, and I tried to suppress the moan that was building in my throat. He dug his nails into my thighs, causing me to squirm from the sting.
"Fuck..." he drew the words out of me with every flick of his tongue, fully indulging himself in the taste of me. "Please-"
"Quiet, princess." He lifted his head for just a moment, reaching one of his arms up my body so that he could squeeze my breast. "Your family is home. Do you want them to hear?"
I didn't want them to hear. But I also didn't want him to stop. There was a low curl in my stomach, meaning that what he was trying to accomplish was proving to be successful. He made it look so easy. He knew my body well.
"Raphael," I whispered, attempting to prop myself onto my elbows, although he forbid it. Keeping his hand in the centre of my chest, continuing to press my back to the cold marble counter. "We should stop. They could come downstairs any moment."
"Marry me." He demanded, his tongue lapping at the wetness collecting between my thighs. My legs wanted to move but they couldn't. They were trapped by the leggings that remained around my ankles. "Say yes and I'll stop."
My hand tangled through his curls once more. I moved my hips towards his face, chasing the feeling that spread throughout my body, from my head to my toes.
"Raph-"
"Say yes."
The sounds I tried so hard to hold back came out, and I screamed so loud the whole penthouse could probably hear me. "I'm close. I'm so close, keep going."
His bright and beautiful grey eyes lifted to mine, causing another jolt of pleasure to roll through me. "Say yes and I'll let you cum."
An image of me and Raphael flashed through my mind. We were on the beach with the sun setting behind us, standing under a wedding arch, holding hands while he dressed in a sleek white suit. He smiled so wide, I believed his face could stay like that forever.
Mr. and Mrs. Vitale.
I could get used to that.
"Yes," I cried. "Yes Raphael, I'll marry you."
He groaned in response, not wasting any time while his thumb pressed down on my clit, and he sent me over the edge as promised. My legs grew weak, resting on his back as he made sure I came as hard as I always did.
With the same wicked grin I saw every time we did this, he removed his face from between my thighs and yanked my leggings back up to my waist. Dragging his thumb across his bottom lip, he eyed me with pure amusement.
"Ti arrendi così facilmente." He laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
(you give in so easily)
"And you are incredibly annoying." I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest.
"You mean, I am incredibly handsome and charming, and have indubitably amazing persuasion skills."
I frowned. "That's not what I mean-"
"Cosa stavate facendo quaggiù?" Lorenzo entered the kitchen, leaning against the doorway. "You know what? Forget I even asked. Please, spare me the details."
(what were you guys doing down here?)
"Bianca and I just had a very thoughtful discussion..." he sent me a dirty look over his shoulder, causing my cheeks to warm. "We have decided to get married."
"Well, that's lovely." My brother walked a little closer, scrunching his nose when he looked at the stove. "But maybe you should take care of this...whatever this is first, I could smell the burning from upstairs."
"Shit!"
Raphael scrambled over to the stove, hopelessly stirring the now-burnt spaghetti sauce that had bubbled over the top of the pan. When he picked one of the overcooked noodles out of the pot, it immediately broke in half and dropped back into the boiling water.
Lorenzo moved to where I was sitting, the left side of his lips tipping up and he covered my mouth with his hand, suppressing the loud laughter that was about to come out of me.
"Are you two fucking laughing right now?" He spun around, firmly gripping the wooden spoon and pointing it at us. "This isn't funny."
"It is though." Enzo retorted, brushing the light brown messy curls out of his face. "You are a shit cook, my friend."
My fiancé launched himself forward, heading right for my brother. Lorenzo jumped out of the way, running past me and to the other side of the counter. Raphael chased after him, and the boys went round and round in circles.
"Aren't you going to ask me to be your best man?" Enzo questioned, hiding behind me as Raphael swung the spoon in his direction. "I feel as though I deserve that position."
"Yea I will," Raph responded as he caught my brother's shirt, pulling him back so he couldn't run any further. "After I beat your ass."
I laughed now, watching the two fight some more before racing out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Making my way to the fridge, I opened the freezer and settled on a tub of cookie dough ice cream for dinner instead of Raphael's burnt pasta.
Smiling like a little girl, I sighed, thinking about what I just agreed to.
I'm getting married.
***
A/N:
Go read the next book on my profile!!!
Ria:)