Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Ginni
Iwake up softly. Gently. Like floating to the surface of warm water, consciousness returning in gentle waves rather than jarring interruption. There’s no sudden panic clawing at my chest, no racing heart hammering against my ribs, no flood of anxiety washing away the remnants of dreams.
Just pure, crystalline contentment, because I am waking up in Carlo’s arms.
Well, not technically his arms, since they’re still secured to the headboard with restraints, but the intention is what matters. The important thing is that I’m waking up in bed with my husband, my beloved Carlo, and that simple fact makes everything else in the world fade into insignificance.
My head is resting on his naked chest, rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Each breath lifts me slightly, a gentle rocking motion that’s better than any lullaby.
His skin is warm beneath my cheek, and I can hear the strong, steady beat of his heart, proof that he’s here, that he’s mine, that this isn’t just another dream.
The sound almost matches the rhythm of the gentle waves the projector is now displaying on the ceiling, and I congratulate myself on being thoughtful enough to program it with multiple scenes.
The starry night has given way to a perfect tropical sunrise, all golden light and turquoise water lapping at pristine white sand.
Now Carlo is going to wake up to the most beautiful sight imaginable, the beaches of the Maldives painted in soft morning colors.
Languid waves washing across sugar-white sand, palm trees swaying in an endless summer breeze.
It’s the perfect start to what is going to be a perfect honeymoon, even if we’re technically still in the basement.
The location doesn’t matter when you’re with the person you love most.
I yawn delicately and stretch like a contented cat, feeling every muscle in my body respond with pure joy.
It feels like my veins are full of liquid happiness instead of blood, every cell in my body singing with sheer bliss.
I wish I actually were a cat so I could purr my contentment for the whole world to hear, let everyone know exactly how good I feel, how perfect my life has become.
I study my new husband’s sleeping face. He looks so peaceful, so completely relaxed and at ease. Not a single worry line mars his handsome features, no tension in his jaw or furrow between his brows. He looks younger in sleep, almost boyish despite his thirty-four years.
Of course, it’s possible the mild sedative I flavored his steak with last night is contributing to his current state of serene unconsciousness.
Just a tiny amount of something to help him sleep deeply and wake refreshed, nothing harmful or unpleasant.
But I prefer to think Carlo’s profound ease is actually because I am simply the world’s most perfect wife, naturally gifted at providing exactly what he needs.
I know instinctively how to take care of him, how to banish all his cares and worries and responsibilities.
My poor sweet love carries far too much weight on those broad shoulders.
The pressure of running a successful business, the constant vigilance required in our world, the endless decisions and negotiations and delicate balancing acts that make up his daily life.
He needs me to help him forget all of that for a while, to create a space where he can simply exist without having to be Carlo Benedetti the capo, the businessman, the man everyone turns to for solutions. Here, with me, he can just be Carlo. My Carlo, my husband, my beloved.
I sit up suddenly as an incredible idea strikes me, inspiration hitting like lightning in my perfectly peaceful brain. I know exactly how to wake him up. The very best possible way to transition from sleep to wakefulness.
All warm and cozy under silk sheets, with a tropical sunrise painting the ceiling above us, his body being lovingly worshipped by his devoted wife. It’s absolutely perfect, romantic and sensual and exactly what every man deserves to experience on the morning after his wedding night.
I carefully ease the blanket away from Carlo’s sleeping form, moving with the patience of someone who has all the time in the world.
He doesn’t even stir, so deeply relaxed that my movements barely register.
The sedative really was perfectly calibrated, enough to ensure he got the deep, restorative sleep he desperately needed.
His magnificent body is revealed inch by inch, like unwrapping the world’s most precious gift.
Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, olive skin that seems to glow in the artificial sunrise, the scattered scars that tell the story of his dangerous life.
Every line and curve is absolute perfection, masculine beauty in its purest form.
It’s almost impossible to believe that he’s really mine. All mine. Forever and always.
The morning light from the projector plays across his skin, creating patterns of gold and shadow that shift with each simulated wave.
He looks like a classical statue brought to life, like something Michelangelo might have carved from the finest marble.
But he’s real, he’s warm, he’s breathing, and most importantly, he’s my husband.
I take a moment just to appreciate the sight of him, to memorize every detail of this perfect morning.
The way his dark hair falls across the pillow, slightly mussed from sleep.
The way his lips are parted just slightly, soft breaths escaping in the most endearing way.
The way his body has finally, completely relaxed, all the tension and wariness of the past few days melted away in the safety of our bed.
This is what I’ve dreamed of for so long. Carlo at peace, Carlo protected, Carlo exactly where he belongs. With me, in our bed, in our life together.
The first time I drugged him, to get him to my basement lair, we weren’t married. It wasn’t right to even look at his naked body, let alone touch it beyond what was necessary. But everything is different now. He is legally my husband. I am his wife.
And now I get to show him just how much I love him, how grateful I am that he’s finally stopped fighting what was always meant to be. I get to worship him the way he deserves, to make him understand through touch and devotion that this is his new reality.
A reality where he wakes up every morning to love and care and absolute devotion. A reality where he never has to face the world alone again. A reality where I get to love him exactly the way I’ve always dreamed of.
Sighing happily, I make my way down the bed. Moving carefully so I don’t jostle Carlo too much.
Getting into position between his legs feels like coming home. It is a thousand times better than finding an oasis after endlessly trekking in the arid desert. This is where I belong. Where I am meant to be.
I lower my head until my nose is brushing over his neatly trimmed pubes. I sniff as deeply as I can. Imbuing my lungs with his manly scent. It’s heady. The best smell in the entire world.
His beautiful cock is soft. Hanging slightly to the left. Allowing me to feast on the sight of his right ball. And what a magnificent sight it is. Big. Heavy. Proud and unashamed. A ball that knows its worth.
It’s so very perfect.
I’m so excited, I’m shaking. I’m so hungry for him, I’m drooling. I will never get tired of blowing my husband. It is forever going to be the highlight of my day. What I live for.
I nuzzle into his groin. Rubbing my face against his cock and balls. It feels wonderful. Soft, flaccid flesh massaging his sublime scent into my skin. My face is going to smell like his junk, and it is going to be heavenly.
Carlo is not even stirring. My little gift is helping him to sleep so sweetly.
He deserves it. And it is allowing me the opportunity to explore him thoroughly.
To take my time, with no pressure of impressing him.
Right now, there is no need to prove anything or to endeavor to make him realize that he loves me.
In this moment, I’m free to simply enjoy him.
Savor him and appreciate everything he has to offer.
It’s enough to make me giddy.
I poke my tongue out and lick one long, broad stroke all along his length. His flavor fills my mouth. Clean, musky, pure Carlo. I swear I can taste concentrated testosterone. It’s delicious. Addictive and so fucking sexy.
I lick and lick. His cock stays soft. All floppy and relaxed. It’s so cute. I take all of him into my mouth, for the sheer novelty of having him flaccid.
I moan around the weight of him. He is still heavy and hot, despite being soft. And now he is twitching. His body responding to my attentions while his mind dreams.
I suckle on him softly and get comfortable.
Gently nursing on his cock as he slowly fills, swells and hardens, is going to be unfiltered exhilaration.
A core happy memory to cherish forever. Fifty years from now, when I’m bouncing our grandchildren on my knee, I’m going to be thinking of this moment and grinning.
I hum contentedly as my tongue glides and my cheeks hollow. He is swelling beautifully. Growing large in my mouth. His breathing has picked up pace. I bet he is having a lovely dream. It better be of me.
He twitches and makes a soft sound. I wonder if I can make him cum like this? A lovely orgasm while all languid and dreamy. That would be nice.
The thought makes me moan. His cock throbs, reaching full hardness. I start bobbing my head and am rewarded with a blast of salty precum. Incredible flavor. Exquisite.
I pick up my pace and tighten the suction.
Carlo wakes with a gasp and a clang of chains as he jerks. He swears profusely, then sucks in another breath.
“Ginni!”
I think he meant to say it like I was in trouble, but his throat is all thick with pleasure, and the way he said my name sounded like worship instead of reprimand.
I pick up my pace even more. He yells. He bucks. His cum spurts down my throat. Salty and perfect. Pieces of him, his literal DNA that I get to absorb into myself and keep forever. A most precious gift.
I keep on blowing him until I’m sure he is spent, and I have sucked him dry.
I pull off of his cock and settle on his stomach. Straddling and sitting on him.
He looks up at me with dark eyes. His face is all flushed and a little sweaty. His hair all mussed. I can tell he loved waking up like this. The best alarm clock ever.
My hand drifts down to my own cock. I’m so hard it hurts.
I stroke the edge of my silk slip over my cock. The sensation makes me tremble. Carlo’s gaze fixes on my busy hand. A new fire lights in his eyes. He doesn’t look away.
I whimper and continue stroking my cock with the soft silk of my slip. It feels so good. But not as good as the way Carlo is looking at me.
He licks his lips as if he is hungry to taste me. His cheeks are rosy. Flushed with arousal. My husband is not fighting his desire for me.
My heart is racing. Fluttering against my ribs. This is everything I ever wanted. Carlo’s attention. All of it. Watching me and liking what he sees.
I whine. My hand flies up and down. My hips dance. My thighs tremble.
My orgasm comes quickly. Suddenly and completely. I shudder and gasp my way through it.
I feel all tingly now. Glowing and transcendent. I can feel air currents gently caressing my skin. Sparks are firing in my mind. Bright and pretty.
My eyes open. Carlo is staring at me as if I’m something holy. My heart swells and butterflies take flight in my belly.
Oh. Wait. My hand is sticky.
I look down. My cum is all over my hand. In my frenzy, I must have made the slip slide off my cock.
“Whoopsie,” I breathe as I stare at my fingers.
Carlo is staring at them too.
A wave of jitters washes over me. Slowly, oh so slowly, I reach out. I move my fingers towards Carlo’s lips. His gaze never wavers. Tension thickens the air between us.
I pause less than an inch from his mouth. His heated eyes lift to mine. His head rises off the pillow, and his hot lips wrap around me. He sucks my fingers into his mouth and cleans the cum off of them. Drinking me down like I drank him down. Taking my DNA just like I took his.
This really is the best morning ever.