Epilogue #4
“No touching,” he barks, battering into me and pinning me to the sofa. I cry. He feels heavy on top of me, but I don’t care; all I want is to orgasm. My body jolts up and down with every ram of his cock. His wanton desire is in every merciless thrust.
His hand leaves my hip to twist my nipple and pull on the piercing.
I scream, my muscles start to contract, then pain and ecstasy shoot down to my balls, from my chest, all over my body, reaching my curling toes.
Pleasure ripples inside me. I’m all-out spasming around him, squeezing him tightly—never wanting to let go.
Luca holds me down, fucking the orgasm out of me as it tears through my very soul.
“Fucking Jesus, your face should be illegal. Such a fucking slut for it,” he grunts.
I yell his name, I always do when I come.
Like the caveman he is, I know he loves the sound of it, and the thought always gives me extra pleasure.
Overpowering rapture is all I feel for a long, blissful moment.
When the climax slightly quiets down, I slow my hips, moaning softly, then collapse on the sofa.
Another dry orgasm he ripped out directly from my ass. How does he do that?
“I like riding you, baby,” I breathe out between pants.
He groans. “I liked you riding me very fucking much.”
I feel giddy with stomach butterflies. I smile far too smugly, but damn, I love it when he gives me what I want.
“Now it’s my turn,” he growls, spreading my ass cheeks to the maximum.
I can feel even more how his cock is buried all the way inside me.
His eyes are revealing something half-crazed and feral as I look into them just before his hips start a wild tempo, ramming up into me.
I can only take it as he pounds my ass like a man possessed.
He is a beast staking his claim, all hard cock and animal craving.
“I’m balls-deep inside your hole, I want to hear you say that you love it,” he grits out.
“I-I do. I love it,” I slur. It hurts to be fucked so hard after I just came, but I want to feel sore. I want to know he couldn’t resist me every time I move later. Those days apart didn’t soften him at all, and I fucking love how rough he is today.
A low moan rattles out of me, my stomach tightens as his merciless ramming doesn’t slow down.
I can’t move, my nails are digging into his shoulders while his hips rock between my legs.
He’s pinning me down, chasing his pleasure and using me to do it—like the good sex toy I am.
Then his breath quickens, his face turns taut.
I lift my face and bite his neck, hard. His roar is almost deafening as thick ropes of cum shoot out deep inside me.
I tighten my inner walls, milking him over and over and over—relishing his moans and blissful swears as his fingers dig into my thighs.
This is by far my favorite part, seeing him lose himself in me and his growls of pleasure ringing loudly in my ears.
It gives me the feeling of being one hundred percent possessed by him.
His trembling, huge, six-foot-three body heaving against mine while he catches his breath.
I slide my hands down over his back, stroking along the muscles there with one hand and burying the other in his hair.
It’s so soft and long now. He shivers in response as if my touch is enough to make him weak, and thrusts into me one last time, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“Art,” he says softly on my skin. I close my eyes and let myself sink into him just as he’s doing with me.
I’m floating on cloud nine. My head is foggy with pleasure when he whispers possessively, “Get back here,” thrusting me onto his cock.
I chuckle—when did I move?
My hole feels so damn sore I’ll need a truckload of ointment later, but I can’t stop smiling. I fiddle with the ends of his hair. The sticky droplets of cum pool against my abs and mat into my belly hair. Ugh, I need a shower.
“Don’t ever let me forget how good you feel inside me again,” I tell him when he lifts his head to look at me. I give him a quick kiss, then close my eyes and sigh.
“Never again,” I think I hear him say. It makes me look at him again.
“Hurts?” he asks, lifting the pendant from the chain around my neck and kissing it, like he does every day. He told me it’s his way of remembering his parents. I love it because it shows me a sweet side of him.
“No, I think my ass is going numb now after all the fucking.”
“Only your ass?” He pulls hard on one of my abused nipples, making me whimper. I grab his hand and give it a bite.
“Fuck!” He glares at me, and I smirk back, earning a slap on my hip.
“Is that cock of yours going down anytime soon?” I ask as he’s fucking into me with lazy, long thrusts. My boyfriend’s stamina is amazing, if not exhausting.
“I wanted you drenched in my juice for four long days, now I’m enjoying my hard work.” He moans, continuing the slow fucking. The sounds he is making are so damn sexy, my mind turns blank. He is such a thug—dominating, possessive, controlling—I fucking love it all.
“We are far from finished, still need to fuck more sense into you,” he suddenly declares, and keeping his dick inside, he pulls us off the sofa and walks toward the bathroom.
With every step, his national treasure is going internationally, discovering new lands inside me as it goes deeper. But I can’t be distracted, I need to clear something up, right now.
“Luca Nero, I was yours way before your stubborn self became mine.” I pull on his chest hair to emphasize my words.
“I’ll never leave you again. You know why?
Because I refuse to have another single night without you.
I belong in your hot, sweaty arms when I’m asleep.
And if you are so afraid I’ll flee, you can always tie me up. ” I offer both my wrists to him.
He hums. His serious-looking face drowns in lust while his eyes grow darker, giving off a magnetic air I’m inexorably pulled to. He slaps my ass, making me jerk as his cockhead hits my very sensitive prostate.
“Is that a giant cookie on the kitchen island?” he suddenly asks, resuming his steps.
I hum. “To celebrate our one-month anniversary, baby.”
He halts and turns his head to look at it again. I made the baker write Happy Anniversary Mobster of my Heart on it with pink frosting.
“A corner is eaten,” he states, but I can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses my forehead.
“You were late,” I say, the first excuse that pops into my head.
“I was ten minutes early,” he counters. Fuck. “A punishment is well overdue. Tying your hands won’t be enough.”
“But I got the cookie,” I weakly fight back. So weakly.
The next morning, I lay my chin on his pec, smiling at him as he eats apple slices and feeds them to me. We are naked in bed, just enjoying the sex afterglow with some fruit.
When we have sex, his chest is hard and strong, but in moments like this, it feels snug and safe. It makes my body relax, and my heart synchronizes with his. He’s playing with the chain around my neck. The saint pendant pressed between us.
It’s like God felt bad for me, so she gathered up all the love I was never given, wrapped it in flesh and bone, and sent Luca to me—adding an extra dose of roughness and dominance to the massively well-endowed thug.
He feeds me another slice of apple, and I drop half over the edge of the bed, where Nacho is waiting patiently—humping Luca’s duffel bag.
We stare at each other, a million unspoken words passing between us as the usual desire is replaced by something more intimate. An unbreakable bond that creates more warmth inside my soul.
He passes me the boba cup, waits until I drink a little, and then sets it back on the nightstand. Then he tosses a piece of fruit into his mouth and pulls me up near his face to kiss me. It tastes like apple and Luca and happiness. This is a new favorite.
When he pulls back, I want to lean into him and kiss more, but we have to go.
I’d prefer to stay with him in bed all day, watching old movies and fighting about trivial stuff, but I want to go to Don Sebastiano’s house.
It’s my first invitation, and I’m so freaking curious about the icy capo.
I also need to tell him something. I’m still deciding about it, though.
Luca finds the pendant and gives it a kiss. Then he slaps my ass before rolling us both out of bed. He pushes me toward the walk-in closet.
“I need another shower,” I let him know.
“No, you don’t,” he rumbles in my ear. I look back, his eyes are flaring at whatever he sees on my face.
“Yeah? You going all caveman on me again?” I ask, not able to stifle my smile.
He grunts in response. “I want my scent on you today. I’ll keep yours, too.” He drops the sexy bomb and moves to the bathroom—followed by Nacho.
Bossy and possessive—me likey…until I don’t and we argue and I find myself stuffed with cock. I’m having the best life ever. My old man is still out there, the fucking roach, but I’ve never felt safer. I’m okay. It will be okay, I can honestly believe it because I’m free. I’m finally free.
I look at my clothes neatly hung on one side of the closet and smile, remembering when I complained to Luca about them getting wrinkly in my bag. Now my shit is nicely folded next to his in the drawers, sometimes mixed. I’m still a slob—one of the things I’m repeatedly punished for.
I take my time and choose the perfect outfit for today. A pair of blood-red panties and a matching bra, dark jean shorts with a black cotton sweater that leaves my shoulders bare. I finish it all with ankle biker boots.
“Can you come here?” I call when I hear him back in the bedroom.
“Why?” he asks instead of doing as I say. Fucker. Nacho does, though, and I pat his small head.
“I want a smooch.” Yes, I’m being clingy. No, I don’t give a fuck. The sight of my clothes next to his just makes me giggle like a girl who has a crush on her English teacher—which, I actually did, and fucked him five years later when I met him at a bar.