Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 124

Chapter 124

Aria’s POV

I wake slowly, like I’m drifting up from the bottom of a warm, quiet ocean.

My limbs feel heavy, boneless. There’s a deep, satisfied ache in every part of me–between my legs, across my thighs, in the curve of my neck where one of them kissed me too hard. I should feel sore. I should feel overwhelmed. But instead, I feel… held. Cherished.

Safe.

The bed is a cocoon of tangled sheets, heat, and skin. I don’t even know where I begin and they end. A leg is thrown over mine, warm and muscled. There’s a steady heartbeat against my cheek, rising and falling with each slow breath. Fingers drift over my hip, tracing circles so light I wonder if I’m imagining it.

I blink my eyes open. Soft light filters through the curtains–golden, morning light. The kind that makes everything feel still. Holy. Like the world outside doesn’t matter right now.

They’re still here.

Dante is the one holding me from behind, his breath brushing the nape of my neck. His arm is tight around my waist, possessive even in sleep. Enzo is in front of me, his face buried against my collarbone, lips slightly parted. And Matteo sits up against the headboard, one hand stroking gently through my hair as if he’s been awake this whole time, watching me.

“You’re awake,” Matteo says, voice low and hoarse with sleep.

I nod, but my throat is too dry to speak. I just blink at him, and he smiles softly, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “You feeling okay?”

My lips part. “Sore,” I whisper.

His expression shifts, guilt flickering in his eyes, but I reach for his hand, lacing our fingers together. “Good sore,” I add. “I… I liked it.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth–satisfied, dark, but still gentle. “You were perfect.”

Enzo stirs against me, his lips pressing a lazy kiss to my chest. “She was more than perfect. She was made for us.”

Dante makes a low noise behind me, something like agreement, and nuzzles closer, his voice raspy in my ear. “You’re ours now, baby.”

The words melt into my skin like sunlight. I can’t even bring myself to question them.

Their hands move slowly, exploring again–but softer this time. Reverent. Worshipful. Enzo’s fingers drift down the curve of my thigh, barely touching. Dante’s hand slips under the hem of the shirt I’m wearing–his shirt–and rests on my stomach, palm flat, possessive. Matteo leans down to kiss my forehead, then my temple, then lower… his lips brushing along my cheekbone like a silent vow.

“I’ve never seen anyone look like you,” he murmurs. “Not like this.”

My skin tingles from the praise. My heart races. I should feel shy naked even though I’m not. But their eyes don’t see me like something broken or small. They see me like I’m… precious. Something to be kept.

I don’t know what to say, so I let them move me. Lift me.

Matteo picks me up again, like I weigh nothing, carrying me to the kitchen. The shirt slips up my thighs, but I don’t pull it down. I don’t need to. Not with the way they look at me–like I’m art they made with their hands and mouths and teeth.

They set me gently on the counter. I swing my legs, a little dazed. Everything feels dreamlike.

1/3

Chapter 124

Enzo hands me a mug of warm coffee. Dante cuts strawberries and feeds me slices one at a time. Matteo leans against the fridge, watching while

crooked smile like this–me, here, with them is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

“You should eat,” Dante says, brushing my hair behind my ear. “You’ll need the energy later.”

The heat that pulses through me at his tone is almost embarrassing.

“You haven’t seen yourself,” Enzo mutters, voice low, finger tilting my chin up. “Still glowing. Still marked.”

My thighs press together. I can feel it–how tender I am, how raw. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel untouched again.

And I don’t want to.

They bicker like boys, not men who just made me feel like I was on fire a few hours ago. Enzo stands at the stove trying to flip pancakes, but his technique is questionable at best–his abs flex every time he jerks the pan, and he’s wearing nothing but black sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips. “You’re going to burn the whole place down,” Matteo mutters, clearly unimpressed, as he leans against the counter sipping coffee, his toned chest on full display, every inch of him carved like marble and smug with amusement. “Says the guy who couldn’t figure out how to use the toaster yesterday,” Enzo fires back. Dante chuckles from where he’s drying dishes, shirtless like the others, tattoos peeking out over his shoulder and along his ribs, like shadows on sun–warmed skin. “You’re all hopeless,” I say with a small laugh, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. Matteo raises an eyebrow at me, walking over slowly, his eyes playful. “Hopeless, huh?” he says, taking the mug from my hands and setting it aside. “You weren’t calling us that last night.” Heat floods my cheeks. “That was different,” I mutter. “That was survival.” Enzo grins over his shoulder. “Pretty sure she screamed Dante’s name the loudest.” Dante shrugs, feigning innocence, but there’s pride in his smirk. “She bit me,” he says, pulling down the waistband of his sweats just a little to show the faint red mark near his hip. I cover my face with both hands, groaning, but I’m laughing, full and real, and the sound bounces off the walls like light. I’ve never felt so ridiculous. Or so loved.

Matteo steps closer. His fingers graze the inside of my knee, slow, teasing. “No one else has ever made you feel like this,” he says softly, voice all silk and promise..

I shake my head, lips parting. “No one.”

He hums, pleased. His hand slides higher, but not far enough. “And no one else ever will.”

Just as I start to lean forward, like I’m giving in again–ready for more, for them–a soft knock echoes through the apartment.

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