Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Bambalina
Restraint runs through my fingers and I fall into him, feverish. His words have drawn a hot sheen across my brow and I’m burning up.
His lips catch mine in a searing kiss that I feel in my bones. Hands grip the nape of my neck and the small of my back as he claims me with each stroke of his tongue. Hips press into mine and his cock throbs against me in a dark promise.
I open my eyes so I can see the depth of his desire.
He’s so beautiful and solid and unyielding as he walks me backward to the wall.
Pressing me up against it, he lifts my arms, pinning them above my head.
His lips don’t leave mine once, claiming them over and over in a sweeping, devouring rhythm that takes my breath away.
Finally releasing me, his nose nudges my head to the side so he can lavish the side of my throat with soft sucks and kisses that make my head spin and my toes curl. Every lick and caress mainlines heated blood to the apex of my thighs until I don’t know how I’m still standing.
All those times I wrote about him in my journal, I never could have imagined this.
It’s too raw, too real, too inconceivable.
How can this depth of desire be sustained?
How can anyone live with this burning heat in their veins without combusting?
It feels impossible, yet so perfect and so right and so—
His lips cover the curves of my collarbone, shattering me.
Gripping my raised hands in one fist, his free hand gently palms my swollen breasts. My nipples peak painfully at his touch, needing his mouth to soften them. A quiet, helpless moan seeps through my lips and communicates my need wordlessly.
Lowering my arms, he slips the straps over my shoulders, letting the dress fall, the fabric catching on my hips. My breasts are exposed to him, growing more drunk and needy the longer he stares. I need his mouth. His hot, wet mouth. Nothing else will do.
Timidly, I reach for his face and pull him down to my chest. When he draws a breast into his mouth, a long, pent-up sigh rolls out of me.
I run my fingers through his hair as he sucks on my nipples, soothing the harsh stabs of wanting that dart through them to my heart.
The conditioned air kisses the skin where his lips and tongue have left a trail, making my nerve endings sizzle.
I’m a live wire beneath him. His words coil around my consciousness.
You’re mine, not his. Your life before mine, always.
And suddenly, I can’t wait any longer.
“Now, Nicolò. Take it now.”
He pulls back, stares into my eyes, and sees something desperate.
In a heartbeat, I’m being swept up off the floor and carried into the bedroom.
He lowers me to my feet and unzips the back of my dress, letting it drop soundlessly to the carpet.
There’s a sharp intake of breath when he realizes I’m not wearing underwear, then he takes my hand and leads me onto the bed. The covers are already thrown back.
Resting against the pillows, I track him hungrily as he stands back and slips buttons through holes. His eyes grip mine, not looking away as he reaches behind to drop his jacket over a chair.
His gaze falls only briefly to the cufflinks at his wrists, then lift back to mine as he places them on the bedside table.
Straightening, he slowly unbuttons his shirt, tugging it from his pants. My mouth slackens when his fingers lower to his belt. The leather slips through the buckle with a smooth sigh.
Nerves jump in my chest. Despite how intimate we’ve been up to now, I still haven’t seen all of him. My mouth has gone dry and I can’t swallow. He unzips his pants and they fall to his feet revealing nothing but bare, muscled legs, tight black boxers, and…
I can’t breathe. The air around me has turned radioactive, the energy shifting and unpredictable, the unknown just a touch away.
Holding my gaze, he dips his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and drags it down over his hips. His thick length stands upright and I can’t look away. The skin is so taut it shines, making the thick veins stand out in the dimmed light.
He steps out of his boxers and crawls onto the bed, like a wild animal stalking its prey.
His expression is calculated and single-minded and I wonder what he sees in this moment—is it a virgin who needs softness, or just a woman’s body he needs to fuck hard?
The unanswered question makes me tremble.
His lips are gentle when they lower to mine and his fingers tousle my hair, distracting me from the feel of his cock against my stomach.
We lay like this for a long time—him French-kissing my mouth and me floating between mindless bliss and hyper-awareness.
The only constant is my beating heart, throbbing against the wall of my chest so rampantly he must feel it against his skin.
When he comes up for air, I gasp, my breaths short and aching. He reaches between my thighs and rims my wet entrance. His lips press to the corner of my mouth and he whispers dirty things into my skin.
“So wet, my little fawn. So ready for my cock, aren’t you? So ready to be claimed.”
I moan quietly as his fingers dip into my heat, coming out slippery.
“This tight little pussy is mine. All mine. My wild little filly—I’m going to tame you.”
I whisper through a cloud of lust. “Thank God,” I sigh. “Being wild for you is exhausting. I just want to be yours.”
“Let me break you,” he groans, “and you will be.”
“Do it, Nicolò,” I whimper. Break me apart, put me back together the way you want me. Leave your mark, make me yours.
My silent pleas are answered when he pushes my thighs apart and his cock nudges at my entrance, bare. I’m so wet and ready, but still, I tense.
“Breathe, baby,” he says, his voice tight.
I reach up and hold his face. “You too.”
He laughs softly, the brief respite relaxing us both.
This moment is so intense. I know that as soon as he pushes inside and makes me his, that will be it for me.
My body will be breached and my heart will be his forever, to do with whatever he wants.
I have to trust he will treat it with kindness, whether he chooses to keep it or not.
“Do you want me to use a condom?” he asks, breathlessly. “I have one, and it’s no problem.”
My brow dips. The idea of putting a layer of rubber between us when this moment is all about feeling him inside me, feels preposterous.
Sensing my hesitation, he adds, “I’ve never fucked without one.”
My eyelids pop. I don’t want to think about him fucking anyone else right now.
“What I mean is, I’m clean,” he says, gently.
I wet my lips, unsure of how to navigate this. “If you’ve always worn one, do you want to now? I—I don’t mind.” Though, I do.
A breath rushes out of him. “No. No, Lina, I don’t want to wear one. I want to wear you, and nothing else.”
Oh God. Those words shed a different light on what we’re about to do. He’s going to be inside me. I’m going to be wrapped around him, in a way only true intimacy can allow.
My legs part wider. We’ve done enough talking. I just want him to do it, to make me his. I want it raw. Carnal. Messy. Like us.
He presses his lips to mine then pushes his hips, dipping the crown of his cock between my folds.
It slides in so easily because I’m so wet, but the stretch feels like a strange dream.
Everything up to now has been familiar and tangible, the feelings electric but not hard to recognize.
But this sensation is absolutely new and unfamiliar.
A small part of him is inside me. That thought alone makes me open up, and he pushes in another inch.
“You’re doing so good, baby. Just breathe. It won’t last. Just a little discomfort and it will all be okay. It’ll be perfect, I promise.”
Kisses litter my lips, distracting me from another push, then a rough growl leaves his throat.
He drops his forehead to my chest and it’s only now I see how hard this is for him, the strength is takes for him to hold back.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him close.
Burying his face into my neck he pushes again then stops as if he’s met an invisible force field.
Lifting his head he brings a hot, hungry gaze to my face.
“One last time, little fawn. Are you sure about this?”
I don’t know where the ache is coming from anymore—the stretch between my legs, or my heart. “I’m sure.”
He slowly lowers his lips to mine, pressing against them deeply, and slides his tongue against mine with a victorious moan. Then with one sharp, painful thrust, he’s in all the way.
He takes my mouth as I sob quietly, swallowing every shockwave and every tear.
When I wrench my eyes open, he’s staring into them, concern inked across his brow. It only softens when my lips curl into a smile. “I’m yours now.”
A sordid, possessive look infuses him. “Yes, you are. And I’m yours, little fawn. No matter what happens, we have this.”
I read his expression easily. It’s a first time for both of us. This is the first time I’ve ever felt a man and this is the first time he’s truly felt a woman.
I wet my lips. “Nicolò?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Show me what fucking is.”
His eyes widen before he gives a brief shake of his head. “I will,” he bites out with dark promise. “But not tonight.”
I pout a little. The damage has been done, right? This is as painful as it’s going to get?
“Tonight, I’m going to go slow. I’m going to be a selfish fucking asshole and feel every inch of you.” He lowers and drifts his lips over mine. “It’s called making love.”
My heart hitches. “Don’t you have to love someone to make love?”
He stops moving and buries his gaze beneath my skin.
There’s a long pause before he speaks.
“I’ve been in love with you since the day our parents announced their marriage,” he says softly.
He cups my face, his fingers skittering across my blazing skin. “This was always meant to be, Bambalina. I can’t stay away anymore. Whatever the future holds, I will always be here.”
I soften beneath his gaze. “I love you Nicolò.” And I do. My heart beats for him.
“I love you, little fawn.” He brushes his nose over mine. “Now, let’s see if we can make you come on my dick, shall we?”
I draw him down onto my lips, tensing a little when he pulls out, then slowly exhaling when he pushes back inside.
It doesn’t hurt so much now, but the sensation is overwhelming. Having him inside me is an intimacy no one could’ve prepared me for. When I look into his eyes I know he feels it too. Instead of taking breaths, he kisses me, like that’s what he needs—not oxygen.
When he reaches a hand between us and paws at my clit, I groan. Darts of pain mingle with swirling desire, sending my brain into another dimension. None of this makes sense, but it feels inexplicably right.
“Yes,” he hisses, in my ear. “That’s it, baby. You wrap around my cock.”
He thumbs me again, kissing me deeply, until a persistent hum picks up between my legs.
I don’t know exactly where it’s coming from but it feels good.
So unexpectedly good. I’m sore and raw and tender, but the surfaces inside me are alive.
I dig my nails into his skin drawing a rough growl from his chest.
“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet, so warm. Every inch of you. So beautiful…” His murmurs and sweet nothings filter through my ears, working me up into a fever.
Then he does something startling to my clit and I choke with need.
“Yes, baby,” he praises, his thrusts deepening, the tension building and building.
“Oh God,” I groan, earning myself a hot palm over my mouth. I’ve forgotten where I am. I’m inside a prison, the walls of which my stepbrother has breached, despite the threat to both our lives.
“I’m so fucking deep,” he grits, quietly. “You’ve opened to me completely. I’m not taking you anymore. You’re taking me.”
I moan into his hand as the pressure gets hotter and hotter, my walls feeling like they’re clamping around him.
“I’m so lost in you, little fawn. I don’t ever want to find my way back.”
My delirious moans seem to spur him on and he thrusts into me harder and faster.
“God, I can feel you so close, Lina. Give me your first, baby. Come for me, sweetheart.”
He applies more pressure to my clit and I suddenly buck beneath him, spasms pulling him in deep.
The intensity stuns me and I draw blood with my nails, coming and coming and coming.
My shudders send him over the edge and he’s suddenly saying my name over and over like a prayer, gripping me tightly.
With one hand still muffling my mouth, his free arm wends beneath my back and I’m hauled into his chest like he can’t get deep enough.
He buries his face in my neck and roars into my skin.
His body shudders and I feel hot jets spear my insides. It sets off another round of convulsions and I cry into his hand, my limbs too weak to hold on.
My spasms coax more from him and we come together in an endless ebbing, flowing wave.
When the flame burns out to a soft heat, as fast and as slow as it flared, he pulls away from my sticky skin and looks softly into my eyes. His breaths are short but sated.
Then he delivers one, final oath. A fact searing in its accuracy.
“There aren’t adequate words in the English language to describe how mine you are now.”