LUCA
— 𝓈𝒾𝓍 𝓂ℴ𝓃𝓉𝒽𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝓉ℯ𝓇 —

The crown is officially mine. Mine by the blood I've shed, the blood I've spilled, the bonds I've made and family I've chosen regardless of blood.

Every scar—mental or physical—I've obtained has led me to these moments. They've come from me defending this kingdom and its people. From protecting them.

I've always wanted my sacrifices to be worth it. To mean something. And considering the look on Raven's face right now as I drive us up to the mansion—our mansion—in my old Camaro, it's all worth it.

She's worth everything I've been through. No matter how traumatic. I'd do it all again to ensure she's safe.

I pull into the circular driveway, parking directly in front of the door. Raven doesn't say anything, but I can see that she's happy with what she sees as she takes in the building.

We've spent months planning it out. Raven and I had a say in every little detail.

I couldn't allow Raven to continue living in Cain's mansion. It didn't seem fair. There's far too many bad vibes there. When it comes to our home—to the place we want filled with our love for one another—I wanted something else and I believe she did as well.

Which is why we used our newfound wealth to purchase a plot of land and design a home all our own.

Cain's mansion still exists. I can't bring myself to do anything with it because I'm so conflicted over dealing with what resides beside the pond in the garden. Instead of burning it to ash—like I'd prefer to do—I've left it standing and we now conduct business out of it.

However, I've given the office a much needed makeover.

Getting out of the vehicle, I saunter around it, offering a hand to my girl to aid her in stepping out of my Camaro. The moment she takes it, those familiar sparks erupt between us.

With our fingers intertwined, I gently unlock and push open the front door of the house and hold it for her. I allow her to enter first, following behind closely to listen as she gasps when she sees what I've had set up for her.

This is the first time she's seeing the finished house—our house—and I've had it filled with various, large displays of flowers. Calla lily's and hellebores in black, with roses and tulips in a deep, dark shade of purple.

"Luca—" her voice is breathless as she takes it all in, following the trail of flowers to the open space of the living, dining, and kitchen area. As well as the small nearby room where our billiards table rests.

After locking the door behind us, I accompany her as she walks, admiring the way the tight, short fabric of her black dress fits the swell of her ass.

The sound of her heels echoing in the space as she walks across our expensive marble flooring is probably causing the ceiling of hell to shake and tremble with each step she takes. I hope Cain enjoys dodging the falling debris.

"This is beautiful, Z. It's perfect."

No, you are.

I scan over the room, pleased with how everything turned out. The man I had choose the decorative things—shit like throw pillows, blankets, drapes, etcetera—appears to have left a gift for me as well. I see a gold-coloured glass, depicting an upside-down M that I can only assume represents my surname.

The Moreno mafia.

No longer the Brooks.

She goes to the billiards table, her expression filled with wonder and amazement as she ghosts her palm over the felt.

My heart expands and contracts with enough force to make my breath catch. I love seeing her like this. She's magnificently, indescribably, painfully beautiful. I'm more certain of us—of the fact that she's my person—than I am that I need oxygen to breathe.

When she turns to look at me, I'm leaning up against the nearby wall. At this point, I've rolled up the sleeves of my black dress shirt and I'm absentmindedly running the tips of my fingers over the stubble on my jawline as I observe her reaction.

I close some of the distance between us. I can't help it. Our skin is practically magnetized.

"There's only one problem," she points out, stepping towards me to place a palm flat to my chest.

"Yeah? What would that be?"

She cracks the tiniest smile, "I might've forgotten to wear panties."

"Forgotten?" The sound of that has my desire for her burning hotter than a forest fire within my chest.

She gives me a faux innocent expression.

"And what would you suggest to remedy the problem?" My eyes drag down her body, admiring the dress she's in. It's tight to her curves, displaying every bit of her I love so much. It has an open space just below her breasts—a triangular shape that exposes her navel, as well as the bottom swell of her breasts.

She's also wearing this decorative piece of jewelry—is it jewelry? I'm not sure. It's a silver-coloured piece that sits below her tits, depicting a sparkling crown directly between them. It seems fitting, considering she's now the queen.

With her long hair flowing in waves over her shoulders and minimal makeup, she's stunning. But she always is. It doesn't matter what she's in, she never fails on being the most gorgeous woman in the room. I'll only ever have eyes for her.

"Bend over the edge of the pool table, my love."

That's my suggestion to remedy this situation.

She quirks an eyebrow.

"I want to have my first meal in our new home."

Her eyes light up at the sound of that and after leaving a lingering kiss on my lips, she spins to do as I requested. As she does so, I move to seat myself on the nearby sofa, positioning myself so I'm able to observe.

She leans her elbows on the top, turning her head to glance back at me, slightly confused.

"What—" she stutters on her words, her voice airy as she asks, "What are you doing?"

I tip my head to the side, twisting one of the few rings on my fingers as I smirk at her reaction, "Sitting here. Enjoying the view of my girl spread out and wet for me."

As I observe, my hand wanders south to rub the bulge that now strains in my dress slacks as I attempt to relieve some of the pressure of my hard-on.

She moans audibly, shifting to press her thighs together. Unbuckling my belt and unzipping my fly, I tell her, "You'd look so good covered in my cum, angel. It slathered over your luscious tits. Dotted across the spanked red skin of your ass."

She tilts her head to lay her cheek on the soft felt of the pool table and I see her bite down on her lower lip at the sound of my filthy mouth. "What?" I question in a tease, "You like the sound of that?"

"Yes." I barely hear her answer.

"Reach back," I demand.

She hesitates.

"Moonlight," I warn with a low husk. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you, yeah?"

Slowly, she puts both hands over the swell of her ass.

"Pull up your skirt for me. Show me what belongs to me. Show me what's mine."

She begins to, but pauses, wiggling her hips ever so slightly. However, she doesn't immediately do as I've asked, so I add, "Now," in a stern tone.

At this point, she's dragging it out as a way to tease me. My thought is confirmed as she leisurely pulls the hem of her skirt up, revealing that she was honest in her admission of not wearing knickers and muses, "You mean like this?"

"Just like that," I husk, spreading the open zip of my slacks to yank down the front of my boxer-briefs and pull my hard cock out. I wrap my hand around it to give it a squeeze as I growl, "You're being such a good girl for me."

She whimpers, arching her back further for me. In her tall pair of heels, it accentuates her legs and I drool at the sight of her thick thighs. "Spread your legs, Raven." I fist my cock, groaning audibly as she does as I say.

She whines my name, adjusting her stance in anticipation. It causes a flicker of light to hit the apex of her thighs, proving how much she's glisteningly wet for me. "Touch yourself."

With delicate fingers, she places her hand between her legs and with the first stroke of her index finger over her clit, her right leg trembles. I stroke my cock as I watch and when she moans my name, it's the equivalent of her mouth being wrapped around my dick.

I let her set her own pace, pleased when she slides two fingers shallowly inside herself, using the heel of her hand to brush against her clit with each thrust. Her free hand grips the edge of the billiards table—to the point where her knuckles go white.

"That's it, my girl. Show me you belong to me."

Fuck, she's stunning. She's the first thing I've ever looked at that actually physically hurts to look at. She's far too beautiful for this earth.

"Harder," I demand. I can see with the pattern of her breathing that she's close to cumming. She's my little exhibitionist. She's getting off quickly at the fact that I'm observing everything she's doing.

Without me instructing her to do so, she turns her body over, resting her one elbow back on the top of the pool table, never removing her fingers from her pussy. "Luca, I—" she gasps, leaning over the edge of the table like a painting of a cresting wave, getting close to orgasming.

"Don't you dare cum, Raven." She mumbles a sound of annoyance, but I add, "The only way you're getting off is on my tongue or my dick."

"Please—" she whimpers, bucking her hips up into her hand. "I need you. Come and kiss me," she begs. "Touch me. Please."

Standing from the sofa, I begin to walk towards her. "It's not your mouth I'm gonna' kiss," I assure her. "I'm gonna' kiss your wet little pussy until your thighs tremble, and you wet my beard."

Her eyes are like sea glass as they rake up my body.

Without warning, I close the distance between us, bend to hook my hands at the backs of her thighs and lift her to place her ass on the table. She squeals with excitement, laying back on the felt in anticipation.

I bend before her, wasting no time in burying my face between her thighs. The second my tongue swipes over her and I'm able to taste her, I groan. "My tongue was made for your pussy, Raven."

"Fuck," she curses, dragging out the sound of the vowel. She threads her fingers in my hair, gasping as her legs tighten around my head.

Thrusting two fingers inside her, my tongue licks at her clit—sucking the sensitive nub between my lips. I reach my other hand up, dragging over the exposed skin of her stomach to reach for the fabric that covers her tits. I pull it aside, pinching the barbell in her one nipple.

I curl my fingers inside her, hitting the spot that makes her toes curl. "Too much—" she gasps, "I'm gonna'—"

Quickening my pace, I suck and lick at her clit until she's writhing beneath me, crying out my name as she cums on my fingers and tongue. It knocks the air from her lungs, her nails digging painfully into my head in such a way that it only turns me on more.

I have my fucking head tattooed. I think it's fairly obvious that I have at least some sort of pain kink.

Either that, or I'm fucking mad.

I move to seat myself back on the sofa, my eyes raking over her disheveled appearance with lust-filled eyes. I stroke my cock with one hand, making eye contact with her as I tease, "Does your pussy ache for this?"

She presses her thighs together, but remains silent.

"What do you want, Raven? Tell me. Let me know."

"You," is all she answers.

"Then have me. Come and sit on your throne, my love."

She licks her lips in anticipation before she begins walking to me—swaying her hips sinfully as she does so. As she nears, I hold out my hand to aid her as she carefully moves to straddle me. When she's finally got a lusciously thick thigh on either side of mine, I grip the home of her waist as she settles.

She draws her palms down my chest, and then begins undoing the top few buttons. But then she suddenly digs her manicured nails into the fabric, grips it, and yanks as hard as she can, which sends buttons flying all around the room.

When my bare chest is revealed, she digs her nails into my bare skin, over the tattoos that litter my flesh. "That was an expensive shirt," I tease.

She smirks, "We'll buy you a new one."

With my hands groping her ass, I lift one to bring it down in a spank. "Now ride my dick and make yourself cum. I wanna' watch you."

As she sinks down onto my cock, a shudder tears down my spine at finally being connected to her again. She moans, securing herself by placing her hands back on my chest. When she stills, I squeeze her ass, encouraging her, "I can go deeper than that. C'mon, just a little more, yeah?"

She does as I instruct, throwing her head back in a quiet moan, her back arching to shove her tits in my face.

"Let it out for me. Let your voice echo my name down the halls of our home, Raven."

As she begins riding me, she takes it slow at first, getting used to my size. She anchors herself by placing her hands on my shoulders, beneath my opened shirt. I aid her by putting my hands on her waist to help as she bounces on my lap.

"Oh, fuck, Luca," she cries out and the sound is music to my ears.

I reach a hand between her thighs to play with her clit as she continues.

She squeezes around my dick and it nearly causes me to blow my load instantaneously. "Angel—" I try to warn her, but the feeling is so exquisite that I can't seem to get the words out. "Don't fuckin' do that."

She continues riding me at her pace, the tips of her nails digging into my skin as she does it again. With a wicked smirk, she muses, "You mean this?"

I growl with playful annoyance, securing my hold on her as I flip our position. Without ever disconnecting from her, I move us so that she's on her back on the sofa, listening as she releases a surprised, but excited gasp.

"I'll fuck the disobedience out of you, baby." I latch my mouth onto the curve of where her shoulder meets her neck and suck, marking her. "If I were you, I'd hold onto something."

I barely give her that warning—she's barely able to find the time to grip onto the edges of the sofa—before I begin fucking her at a hard and fast pace. She cries out my name, knuckles going white and back arching off the cushions beneath her. The sounds we're making echo in the space, making me glad no one else is in the house today.

I don't want anyone else to hear her cry out for me like this. She's all mine and selfishly, I don't want to share the intimate aspects of her with anyone.

My hips slam into hers repeatedly and I shift my weight to one arm, using the free hand to apply pressure to her pelvis. I feel around with the tips of my fingers until I know that I'm massaging her g-spot from the outside—creating double the sensation as I stroke it from the inside with my dick.

She writhes beneath me once I do, confirming that she's overwhelmed with pleasure. I lean my face close to her ear as she crests on the wave of another climax, whispering in her ear, "I love you, my Moonlight."

Her cry of euphoria hits my ears and she reaches around to drag her nails down my shoulder blades and she says it back, "I love you, Z."

When my hips meet hers, I still as my orgasm hits me, filling her with my cum. She presses kisses to my neck, but I grip her jaw to reunite our mouths until I'm forced to retract from her.

She's clearly spent. I've messed up her hair, her dress is array, and as I glance down at her thighs, my cum is leaking out of her pussy. Nevertheless, she looks gorgeous.

Reaching out for her, I pick her up bridal-style and begin to carry her through our house. She keeps her face tucked to my chest, but observes the interior as I go. I know her well enough to know she's curious what the rest of the house turned out like, but she has time to look another day.

We have forever together.

Tonight is only one night.

I saunter into our master bedroom and head straight for the bathroom where I delicately place her on the massive vanity. She squeaks when her bare ass hits the cold surface, but she stays put.

Grabbing a wash cloth, I run the water at the tap beside her until it's warm, dunking the small towel under the faucet until it's damp. I squeeze out the excess liquid and urge her to spread her legs, using it to clean her carefully.

After discarding the soiled cloth, I move to begin filling our tub with warm water. I help her off the vanity and then aid her in stepping out of the dress, including the decorative silver piece of jewelry that rested below her breasts.

"My queen," I comment, my fingers ghosting over the crown.

She cups my jawline in her hand, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips, "My king."

The endearment is a representation of many things. Not only is it my surname, but in Cain's death, I've become the king.

After Raven and I rid of Cain's body, we had to tell other people that we murdered him. It might seem stupid—and I'm sure there are moronic aspects to it—but it seemed like the best option. There's no way that people wouldn't notice him missing. We chose to take public ownership of his death because it would give us a sense of authority.

Plus, with the way everything went down, I truly think his men would've been suspicious if I hadn't owned up to it.

I even had to keep my distance from Raven for a few months afterwards. I didn't want them thinking she was the reason Cain was dead. If they assumed I was with Raven before his death, they'd jump to the conclusion that I was disloyal to him and murdered him to keep her.

I mean, it's the truth—not all of the truth, but a majority of it—but I believe it's best for that to not be the overwhelming belief.

No matter how much his men hated him, they would not take kindly to a disloyal man. Loyalty is fucking everything in this world and they'd rather you kill someone—which, oddly enough is fairly disloyal, in my books—because the person was bat shit fucking crazy and own up to it, rather than hide behind lies and be a coward.

That means that Raven and I continued to meet in private until we'd decided enough time had passed that it wouldn't be completely suspicious.

A lot of the men who Cain lost over those last few weeks had already somewhat looked up to me. So, when they'd heard that I alone was the reason for Cain's sudden absence, it created a sense of power for me. Considering Cain's behaviours and their lack of trust in him, they respected it.

We kept Raven's name out of it. I allowed her to be the one to kill him. I stood by and let her do what I think she needed to do, but I didn't want everyone else to know that she was the one to do it. It wasn't because of some sense of ego inflation, but I think if she admits that she took his belt and wrapped it around his throat, that it'd potentially put her in great danger.

That being said, I put my foot down. I'll do anything for Raven. Absolutely anything she wants. But I refuse to put her in any situation that isn't safe for her. I simply won't do it.

Luckily for me, she agreed.

In Cain's death, Mariposa fled. I can't be entirely sure why. It's possible she thought I was coming after her. It's also possible that Cain wasn't exactly too nice to her and she fled to freedom. It's also plausible that she's the exact same as Cain and went to go scheme elsewhere.

I have no fucking clue. I have people attempting to track her down—simply for safety's sake—but they haven't found anything as of yet. I can only assume she had false identification made years ago and we may never find her.

As for Dove, she also fled in a way. When I became Don, Raven and I gathered some money and have securely sent her to live elsewhere. Raven wasn't entirely thrilled with it, but it was Dove's decision. She's had enough of this life and all she wants is to raise AJ in peace.

I think it's for the best. I have people frequently checking in on her and we send her money to make sure she's accounted for. We visit her every once in a while, but it's a process to do so because we take every precaution to make sure she's safe.

Fuck, do I still miss Adiv though. I wish he was with us to see all of this. To meet his son and hold him. Teach him the lessons of life.

I miss far too much about my brother—from his kindness, to the unique sound of his laughter, his shockingly good advice, and his terrible gifts. There still remains a gigantic hole in the world with the loss of his spirit.

One that I'm not sure I'll forget. One that I reckon will follow me until the end of time.

Raven cups my face in one hand, bringing me back to the present. When I meet her eyes, she's giving me a look of concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah," it's not entirely a lie.

"You get this expression whenever you're thinking about him. About Adiv." After a pause, she adds, "You sure you're okay?"

"I miss him," I admit.

"Me too."

"But there isn't much I can do about it."

"There's nothing wrong with missing him. He shouldn't be forgotten."

"You're right, he shouldn't. He won't be."

Cain, on the other hand, will be. I've heard whispers in the halls, of people speaking of how he went crazy in his final days.

Whatever mystery and darkness that once shrouded his reputation has been tarnished. It feels good, in all honesty.

Raven and I finish getting undressed and I move to stand in the tub, offering her a hand to help her follow me. I sit and she places herself between my legs—her back to my chest—as we relax in the warm water.

I need to see Diablo soon, as well. It's been six long months since Cain's death, but we've purposefully kept our distance. I snuck a message to him after Cain's murder to inform him, but we agreed it wouldn't be best if we were to be seen together quickly after the event.

Again, I happen to believe my men would see it as disloyal. It'd raise eyebrows if I was best mates with Diablo Cardoso out of the blue. Especially considering that in Cain's last days, Diablo was his sworn enemy.

There are a million and one thoughts swirling in my brain, but that seems to be the norm these days. It's only when Raven nuzzles her backside into me and draws her fingers up my arm that I'm brought back to the present.

In all of the chaos, she's the one who keeps me grounded. Everything else simply becomes background noise whenever she's around.

I can admit, this isn't where I imagined myself when I first met her, but I don't think I'd change any of it. Each step led me to where we are now—in our home, with her wrapped safely in my arms.

Ignore this house. Ignore the money. Ignore the power.

She's the only thing that's irreplaceable.