Chapter 48
Chapter forty-eight
Saving Horses
Sophia
The drive back to Marco’s is pensive. He doesn’t push me to tell him what I spoke about with my mom.
I want to ask him about what was in the envelope but I feel emotionally exhausted and the thought of having to deal with anymore drama has me quickly deciding against it.
Ignorance is bliss. For the moment, anyway.
Besides, I’m a permanent resident of the Marrone household now; there will be plenty of time for me to casually bring this up over dinner.
Or in bed before we fall asleep or after we wake up together.
A thrill shoots through me; I, Sophia Rose Princi, am moving in with Marco ‘love of my life’ Marrone. My wildest fantasy come true.
Once we get back, we quickly unload the car, taking boxes into the bedroom.
Marco is insistent that I unpack later and find my way back into bed with him.
Just the thought spikes my anxiety. Even though I avoided unpacking at my parents, there’s no way I can handle being railed six ways to Sunday with boxes staring me down.
“Unpack first. Orgasms later,” I say, firmly in get shit done mode.
“You know what they say about people who need to unpack straight away?” he asks, eyebrows arched and finger pointed at me. “Serial killers.”
“You better watch your back then, baby.”
He chuckles but doesn’t push me to change my mind. “There’s space in the wardrobe and the chest of drawers is empty. I’ll go and grab us some food. Any special requests?”
“Surprise me,” I say as I put on some feel-good tunes and focus on putting away my belongings, taking note how the empty space looks like it has been deliberately left free. All for me?
Some time later, Marco’s voice breaks through the music, interrupting the involuntary bounce of my body to Dom Dolla’s catchy house tunes.
“Look what I found wedged under my seat.”
I spin towards his amused voice to find him leaning against the door frame, clutching a small shoe-box sized package in one hand, mischief gleaming in his bright eyes.
“Toys,” he says, making a deliberate show to read the label, question in his tone.
“Either you have a secret child I don’t know about, or these are yours.”
Sauntering over to him, I pluck the box from his hands. “Ah, you found Max and Charles!”
Un-taping the box, I pull out the little pouch stowed within. Marco is across the room in a flash and plucks the bag from my hands.
“Boy toys,” he says, reading the words printed on the front of the pouch as he unzips it.
Stella gave me this very thoughtful Christmas gift during a man-drought a few years ago.
“Yup. That’s Max,” I tell him as he pulls out my rose gold clit-sucking vibrator first, then my pink vibrating dildo.
“That’s Charles. I named them after my favorite F1 drivers.
Both a dream to drive right to the finish line. ”
“Is that so? My horny girl and her boy toys.” Marco growls darkly as he stalks towards me, backing me up until the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed.
He pushes on my chest lightly and I fall to the mattress.
He places my toys next to me before stripping me out of my clothes and quickly removing his own.
“You know what they say—boys and their toys. And you know me, sweetheart. I fucking love fast cars. Fast bikes? Sign me the fuck up. But these toys, baby…” he says, holding one in each hand.
“These are my favorite kind of toys. Wanna know why?
Those other toys get me places fast. But these toys…
well baby, these toys let me get you there fast.
“So now that you’re mine and will be a permanent fixture in my bed, I think we need to go over all the rules.
One. No clothes in the bed,” he says, turning my vibrating dildo on and trailing it around one nipple then the next.
He drags it down between my heaving breasts to the apex of my thighs, clenched tight, trying very hard to contain the need pooling there.
“Two. Bring toys,” he commands as he turns up the vibration and slides it slowly between my slick folds, back and forth, back and forth, coating the toy before stopping at my entrance.
The vibration alone sets off the pulsing of my inner walls. He holds it there for a beat, positioning himself so he’s on his side but hovering over me. With his mouth to my ear, he delivers the last rule with finality.
“Three. Come prepared, or don’t come at all.
” Then he plunges the vibrator deep within, hitting the elusive spot over and over until the heat and energy swirling low become one.
I explode. The white light of a heavenly orgasm steals my vision and commands the floodgates to open as my release trickles down my leg.
Marco dives in to lap it up, humming his approval against my inner thigh.
I go to sit up, reaching out to take care of him.
“Uh, uh, uh. Lie this way, baby,” he says, maneuvering my body so my head is now hanging off the end of the bed.
He looms over me. Pure desire flares in his eyes, turning them a deep shade of emerald.
I drink him in. Glorious in his nakedness.
Smooth golden skin. Rippling lean muscle.
The intricate ink spanning his entire chest, like a roadmap made for my fingertips to roam.
The deep V and a smattering of trimmed hair leading to his big, thick cock.
Standing to attention. Ready to conquer, like my very own gladiator.
“Open that pretty mouth real wide for me, Kitten,” he says.
I open without hesitation. I’ve never done this before, but any embarrassment I feel about getting it wrong is eroded by the lust and want that surge through me.
I’m equally hungry for him. Regrettably, Marco was not my first, but this is a first for me.
For us. I’ve never had someone command me like this.
As though he can read my body and know what I need.
What I want. Before I can even articulate what to ask for.
He doesn’t rush to the finish line just to take his satisfaction.
No, unlike the few boys who came before him, he’s a man intent on taking his time to draw out every drop of pleasure.
Solely focused on making it good for me.
Showing me that my pleasure is his pleasure.
He positions his legs on either side of my head, bending at the knees, and begins feeding me his cock, dirty words falling from his lips as he leans over to strum my clit. Switching between fast and then slow. Wet circles and sharp flicks.
“That’s it. You swallow me so well.” He groans, driving into me as my throat squeezes around him.
The intrusion is both filling me up and fulfilling my need to witness this man unravel for me.
Wetness pools at the corners of my eyes and between my legs, and I meet his thrusts, sucking and licking him.
Raw and primal. With no room for embarrassment about how I look or if I am doing it right.
The sounds of our combined pleasure echo through the room, and I feel his cock pulse deep within at the same time I near the peak of my own climax.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s pulled all the way out of my mouth, joins me on the bed, and is pulling me over him so I’m now straddling his lap.
“Ride me,” he commands as pushes me down onto him and thrusts up into me.
Settling his hands on my hips, he holds me firmly in place but lets me take control.
He sucks and swipes his tongue around my puckered nipples as I slowly rock back and forth, rubbing my clit against his pelvis, stoking the telltale tingle, firing up my need to move faster.
Harder. Marco responds, bucking and fucking me back until we’re moving like we’re in a full gallop, crossing the finish line with a loud “Yes!” from me and a grunt from him.
I collapse on him in a sweaty heap and murmur into his chest. “Congratulations, you just saved a horse.”
“What the fuck?” He laughs, clueless to what I mean.
“In the small-town romance book I’m reading, the main character says, ‘Ride a cowboy. Save a horse’, so your good deed for the day is done.”
Unable to contain his laughter, he lets out a low rumble and kisses me, leaving his lips against mine like he can’t bear to be disconnected.
“I don’t know what the fuck books you read, Kitten, but I’m happy to save all the horses, all of the time.”
“Be careful what you wish for, cowboy.”
That earns me a throaty laugh and a playful slap to the ass. “Giddy-up, cowgirl.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything,” he says, cupping my ass to hold me in place.
“You really didn’t have sex with other women the entire time I was away?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the p. “I didn’t want to be with anyone else.
I tried to fuck away my feelings for you with other girls senior year of high school and all through college.
It failed. Instead, I threw myself into work to try and distract me from thinking about what you would be doing.
I wanted to tell you to come back so badly, but I also wanted you to achieve your dreams for you.
I didn’t want to be another person in your life dictating your decisions.
I clung to the hope that, when you came home, I could make everything right. ”
“But all those pictures of you with different girls? You didn’t sleep with any of them?”
“I didn’t touch another woman. My hand needs its own disability pension after how much I put it through.
” He laughs. “I did what I needed to make you believe you’d made the right decision.
Unfortunately, it has led your father to believe the worst of me—but I was already in his bad books by then anyway.
I didn’t play by his rules, and he’s still fucking pissed.
As I told him today, I don’t want to fight him, and I never want to come between you two.
But I also won’t stand by and let him try and control the decisions you’re capable of making yourself.
I’d kill or be killed to protect you, but I’ll never try to take away your voice or right to make your own decisions. ”
“Thank you, Marco,” I whisper, tears gathering again as I gnaw nervously at my lip. Even though I know he didn’t expect me to save myself for him, I feel guilty for ever having been with anyone else.
“What is it?” he asks, concern lacing his features.
“It’s just…I dated boys over the years, and there was Aiden. I just kinda feel sad. Or like I betrayed you because some of my important firsts weren’t with you.”
“Look, as much as I want to throttle anyone who’s had his hands on your perfect body”—he squeezes my ass to punctuate his point—“you’re wrong about the important firsts.
Everything we’ve shared together are our firsts.
All the others don’t count as important,“ he says sincerely, stroking my cheek and between my eyebrows to smooth the furrow of worry there.
I find comfort in his words, but the enormity of what lies ahead weighs on me. “These next few weeks are going to be huge. I wish we could stay in this little bubble for a bit longer.”
“I know, Kitten. So whaddya say—wanna save another horse?”
With that, he flips me over so his body is braced over mine and gets back in the saddle, making up for lost time.