Chapter 27 Valentino
I’ve never seen such fire burning in Naomi’s green eyes before. In front of me right now is no curious kitten but a raging lioness making her claim, and better yet, staking it.
Her breath is coming in short puffs, and my gaze skates down her parted lips, the long line of her throat left bare in the demure V-neck, the rise and fall of her chest against the fabric of her dress.
Her wedding dress. As of two hours ago, we are officially husband and wife. And here she is claiming she has rights, and that I’m to fulfill my duties to her.
Does she know what she’s asking of me? It’s been pure torture to be near her all these days and force myself to stay away. Because me reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear would lead to my hand trailing down her neck, under her shirt, into the lacy cup of her bra to tease a nipple I’d make pucker from my touch. Me being close to her would end in my arms reaching for her, plastering her to me, my cock seeking her pussy in any way it possibly could just so I could sink into her and take her for everything I’ve got.
But I’m not a barbarian who’ll forget she has been drugged for weeks now and was also locked against her will in a mental institution where they did everything to traumatize her further. If Reeves hadn’t said he was shutting them down asap, I would’ve gone in and killed each and every one of those cazzos who dared inflict such harm and damage onto her.
The first thing I read about trauma was the need to give the victim space. Every therapist her uncle and I have spoken to, trying to see which would be a good fit to help her when she’d see the need for it, told us to not crowd her, to respect her privacy, to let her breathe and find her way out at her own pace.
So, me staying away all this time? I was doing what I was told, because that’s what was supposed to help her.
Except, all it did was turn her into a fury who’s on a rampage now, and her target is me. She acts like she’ll burn me to the ground and pound me into the dirt with her bare feet then dig my ashes up again to end me some other way. Such is the intensity radiating off her right now, and frankly, it’s calling to the flames scorching inside me. If she’s to burn me, I’ll do so willingly…and make her burn right along with me, fire calling to fire, ashes calling to ashes in the hope we can somewhat be reborn from this.
I drag my eyes back to hers, and suddenly, it seems we both explode into motion. My hands are coming up along the sides of her body to clasp her face—hers have travelled along my front to clasp the collar of my shirt so she can tug me to her.
Our lips crash and it’s the most ravenous kiss we’ve ever exchanged. Her tongue is seeking mine, mine is swirling with hers, teeth clashing, mouths devouring. My hands are now in her hair, tangling, fisting in those long locks, tugging her head back so I can keep control over this kiss, so I can drink from her after being parched, after being denied her for so long.
Not to be undone, the clever minx finds a way to start undoing my shirt, running her hands lightly—too lightly—along my nipples, which makes me hiss and freeze into our kiss. She wastes no time biting my lower lip and tugging it with her teeth.
The flash of pain prompts me into action, and my hands are seeking the zipper on the back of her dress. I undo it in one single tug, pulling down the straps of her bra and reaching inside the lacy cups to palm the heavy globes of her breasts. Payback’s a bitch, and I pinch her nipples hard, making her moan against my lips as I seek her mouth with mine again.
Naomi is wiggling on the desk, and then her legs open wider, wrapping around my hips as her hands trail down, short nails scraping my abs to reach the waistband of my pants. She makes quick work of my belt, button, and zipper, hand closing triumphantly on my already hard-to-bursting cock.
A gasp escapes my mouth as she palms me and wraps her hand around my length, two fingers and her thumb squeezing the sensitive head.
She’s going to be the death of me. Her small hand on me is Heaven, Hell, Purgatory all rolled into one. She’s intent on making me pay, on dragging out what she’s seeking from me. Revenge, vengeance, retribution—she’s killing me to get it.
Not on my watch, you vixen.
I let go of her glorious breasts and sweep my hands across the desk behind her, sending everything on the surface flying. I’m leaning on her then, pushing her body down, my hands clasping her wrists and spreading her arms wide as I pin her down, my hips crushing my erection against her mound.
She’s not over the shock when I pull back slightly and grab her hips to drag her to the edge of the desk, where I roughly tug her panties to the side so I can slam my eager cock into her and take her in a single stroke.
A loud cry tears from her throat. I retreat and slam back in, and this time, her legs come up, wrapping around my hips, pulling me even more into her when I surge forward. My hands find her breasts again, palming them, squeezing them, grounding myself into them as I pound away at her pussy. The incredible feel of her warm tight channel without a barrier is still something I can’t get enough of.
A tightening is developing in the back of my legs, in the small of my back. I can feel my balls grow heavy, too, as the warm, wet glove of her tight pussy squeezes around my cock even more.
I don’t want to come yet. I want to make it last for both of us. But I know I won’t last long if I continue fucking her this way, so I try to slow it down by unwrapping her legs from around my waist and pull out of her as she lets me go reluctantly. As I close my eyes briefly to stave off the tension zinging up my lower body, ready to tear a shattering release from my loins, suddenly, a wet warmth envelops my cock.
What…? I force my eyes open, and what I see almost makes me blow my load right there and then.
Naomi has slid her body down the desk and is now on her knees in front of me, dress agape in front, breasts out of her bra cups and perky nipples pointing out, her full lips closed around my cock as she drags her tongue over the sensitive underside and sucks on the engorged head.
I try to pull away, but she won’t let me. My orgasm is building up so hard inside me, I know it will roar through me incessantly. Everything inside me tenses. If Naomi wants me to come into her mouth, then that’s what she’ll get.
I lean down a little and thread my hands into her hair. The fingers of one hand fist into the long locks while with the other, I hold her head in place as I slam my cock harder into her mouth, seeking the depths of it. My orgasm rips through of me, and I groan aloud as it pulses out of me and I can feel the cum spurting out, coating her tongue, the back of her throat. She’s gagging a little, but she wanted this. I don’t let her go until I’ve spent myself inside her mouth.
I release her head so I can brace my palms on the desk. My legs are weak under me, and I need to catch my breath again. When I can focus again, I force my eyes onto Naomi.
She’s still on her knees, and she’s now looking up at me. Fuck, but she looks so sexy like this, lips swollen and looking like she’s been ridden hard. A groan hisses out of me when she brings her thumb up, runs it from her chin up the side of her mouth, then brings her tongue out to lick whatever she’d caught there and then sucking the whole thumb all while never breaking eye contact with me.
She swallowed the entire load I dumped inside her mouth, drank it all in.
Fuck!
“Happy wife, happy life,” she says with a small smile as she watches me, knowing full well what a show she just put on.
I can’t believe I’m getting hard again just replaying that scene in my mind. I bring my focus back to what she said. Yes, she’s my wife now. And a man—a husband—makes love to his wife; he doesn’t treat her like the ultimate slut he’s wringing his base pleasures from.
“Stop,” she says.
I open my eyes when her hand lands on my arm.
“I just asked you not to treat me like a saintly virgin.”
Merda, is she reading my mind now?
“I enjoyed this just as much as you did,” she continues.
I sneak in a breath, realization dawning on me.
“That’s…that’s not how our first time is supposed to be like,” I tell her.
“It’s not our first time.”
“As husband and wife, it was.”
She stares at me for long seconds, eyes narrowed. She also makes no effort to adjust her dress on her as she gets up to face me while standing.
“Don’t deny me my agency, Val.”
Like the people who toyed with her did. Like her father, Billings, those fucktards at Pineridge. That’s not what I’m doing. I’m just… I can’t put words to what I’m feeling, until they rip out of their own volition.
“Don’t deny me my wedding night, Naomi.”
I’m in this for the long haul, even if she hasn’t yet realized this. She needs a protector, that’s all. I can’t assume she’d choose this life for herself if she had any say in it.
But me? I have her now. She’s all mine. If it weren’t the case, I might even be ready to beg for it… Luckily, I don’t need to. She’s here, with me.
She hasn’t answered me, and I take this silence as her acquiescence. It’s her wedding night, too.
“Come,” I tell her, extending my hand to her.
When she clasps it, I pull her to me, my other hand slipping under her knees to sweep her into my arms. A laugh tumbles out of her, and this brings a balm onto my heart. I can’t contemplate the idea of ever losing Naomi now that I have her, now she’s, my wife. But it’s a thought I won’t focus on. Right now, I have to make love to my wife.
And I do just that after carrying her upstairs to my bedroom. I deposit her on the bed, reverently remove her clothes to leave her naked on top of the dark sheets. Her pale skin glows against the stark contrast, and she reminds me of a pagan goddess luring men to their downfall with her sinful body. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her entirely unclothed, I take my fill drinking in the sight of her beauty.
Then I’m undressing, joining her on the bed, worshipping her body, every inch of her skin, with my touch, my lips, my tongue, kissing and sucking, leaving the marks of my conquest as little love bites all over this unconquerable creature that welcomes me in her arms, in her embrace, in her mouth, in her core.
I pull away only long enough to line up my cock, then I’m melting between her legs again, weight braced on my forearms, hips nudging her thighs to open wider for me, so I can sink between them, sink my cock ever so slowly inside her as our eyes lock, as our hands clasp and fingers entwine, as our bodies find the rhythm that allows us both to rock in synchronicity with each other.
Time stops as I take her and she takes me, as I push and she pulls me in, as we join together as man and wife and come seconds apart, my release riding the waves of hers.
When I’m spent, I don’t pull out of her. I keep our bodies locked like this and roll us gently onto our sides. Naomi doesn’t leave my arms. Her head finds a spot in the crook of my shoulder, and I hear as much as feel her sigh of contentment against my neck as she goes liquid against me and soon falls asleep with me still inside her.
This… This should be our reality, the entirety of it.
But it isn’t, and tomorrow will come soon enough to reassert this fact mercilessly.
I sigh as I lay there with my wife sleeping contentedly burrowed into my side.
Tomorrow will come…but now? We have each other. It will be enough to sustain us.
I hope…