Chapter 18 #2
This time there’s no doubts lingering about my motivation for having sex with him.
This isn’t about him taking my virginity.
It’s not about this house or the things he wants to give me.
This is about me and him and want and need.
I want him. I need him. Not just anyone, but him.
I want him above me, his body pushing into mine, his dick and fingers and tongue wringing so much pleasure from me that I know that if this is the way I die, I’ll leave this world the happiest I’ve ever been.
Focusing on how I feel, I close my eyes and enjoy the way my sensitive nipples are scraping against his broad chest. I concentrate on the nagging surge of bliss that bursts to life inside of me the moment he rocks into me.
I focus on the way his palm on my neck heats my skin, holding me in place while he takes what he wants and gives me what I need.
I focus on him and the taste of his lips as he kisses me, and I scream my release onto his mouth. The orgasm seems to last forever, or maybe the first rolls straight into the second, but I don’t care. Let this last forever. Let this be the way I spend my life. Beneath this man, full of his cock.
His thrusts slow, then speed up as he holds me in place and fucks me. When he rips our lips apart, our gazes lock, then his drops, fixed on the place where our bodies are connected. Unable to resist, I look down too and see his dick sliding in and out of my body, my arousal slick across his skin.
When he comes, it’s with a groan of desperate release.
Pumping his hips, he slams into me twice more, then slows, his rhythm becoming a rocking grind until his eyes lift and lock on mine again.
Instead of cleaning up, he rolls to the side, pulling me with him so I’m wrapped in his arms. His softening dick is still half inside of me, the mixture of our releases slowly seeping out onto my thigh and the sheet below us.
I wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t.
Cupping my cheek, he rubs his thumb over my skin, his expression reverent, like he’s struggling to process that this is real.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispers. “I didn’t know it was possible, but I love you so goddamn much, Verity.”
I want to say it back. The words form, then die on my lips, but even though I can’t say it, I feel it. With this man. With this stranger who took one look at me and decided we were meant to be. I feel it all, and it’s terrifying, and yet the more time we spend together, the less I doubt it.
The next two days pass in a blur. We only get out of bed to eat and shower before we inevitably get dirty all over again. The rest of the time we spend naked. I don’t understand how I went twenty years without ever being interested in sex, because now, I feel insatiable.
When Warrick pushed inside of me for the first time, I thought the pain was unbearable and would last forever. He’d laughed when I’d said I never want to do it again. He told me I’d beg, and god, he was right.
“Warrick,” I whine.
“Amore mio, I don’t like it either, but I have to be at work in an hour.”
“Can’t you stay home?” I giggle.
Smiling softly, he cups my cheek and rolls me beneath him, caging me in with his huge body. “Are you going to miss me?”
I nod, the silliness evaporating as my smile fades.
“I’m going to miss you too, amore mio,” he growls, softly lifting my thigh and pushing inside of me.
“Oh god,” I moan, arching my back as he fills me in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt before he palms my throat and squeezes lightly.
“I don’t know how I’ll go four days without this, amore mio. I’m addicted to you and this perfect wet cunt. Tell me you’ll miss me.”
“I’ll miss you so much,” I pant as he slowly grinds his hips, working his cock in and out of me in a drugging rhythm that feels amazing.
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, all yours, every inch of me.”
“That’s right, you’re all mine. Mine to take care of, mine to pamper, mine to fuck. I want you naked in our bed waiting for me when I get home.”
I nod, feeling the head of his cock grazing over the spot inside of me that makes me see stars.
“Then once I’ve reclaimed all of you and my cum is dripping out of all of your holes, I’m going to give you my last name and a pretty band on your finger.”
“What?” I spit, my eyes snapping open.
“We’re getting married, amore mio,” he says, kissing me and silencing my protests as his thrusts start to build momentum, rocking into me until I can barely think, let alone speak.
Pulling back from the kiss, he smiles smugly down at me, and I know he’s doing this deliberately.
“We can’t,” I say weakly, “that’s crazy.”
My body feels empty when he pulls his dick out of me. “Hands and knees,” he orders, and I scramble to do as he says, too needy to stop. Turning onto my stomach, I position myself on my hands and knees, watching over my shoulder as he moves behind me and guides his cock to my entrance.
He feels huge like this, the head of his cock pushing even deeper as he holds my hips and fucks me in punishingly hard thrusts that would topple me forward if he weren’t holding on to me.
“Jesus,” he growls. “Always so fucking wet and desperate for me,” he praises as the wet sound of my arousal fills the room.
“Oh, oh, oh,” I chant, letting my head fall between my shoulders, too consumed by the pleasure to do anything but feel. I tense when his fingers find the ring of muscle between my ass cheeks, dragging my cream upward and using it to soften the skin before he works one, then two fingers into my ass.
My body easily accepts the intrusion, and I push back against his fingers and cock, wanting to be fuller, needing to feel the overwhelming sensations that consume me when he touches me like this.
“Fuck, you like that, amore mio. You love my cock in your cunt while my fingers stretch out this tight little ass, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whimper, rocking into each thrust, desperate for more, desperate for him.
“Tell me you’ll marry me,” he demands.
Shaking my head, I don’t speak. I can’t marry him. It’s too soon, too fast.
“Tell.” He slams into me. “Me.” Withdrawing, he forces himself back into me again. “You’ll.” Thrust. “Marry.” Thrust. “Me.”
I shake my head again.
Everything stops, but my mind can’t understand, and I sway backward, pushing back into nothingness because my body is empty. Confused, I open my eyes and look behind me. Warrick is stone-faced, his thick, hard cock erect and wet with my arousal.
“What are you doing?” I croak, my voice weak.
“Tell me you’ll marry me, amore mio,” he snarls, his eyes black and angry.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him like this, and I hate that I’m the cause of the pain and hurt in his eyes. I hate that I can’t give him what he needs after he’s given me literally everything. But I can’t. I can’t marry him, not yet.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
Even in the darkness of our room, I see the hurt my words cause, but I don’t know what to do. I can’t agree to marry him just so I don’t upset him.
Inhaling slowly, he presses his lips into a hard line, but he doesn’t tell me that it’s okay.
Instead, he grabs my hips and pushes back inside of me.
His dick is still rock-hard as he fucks me in short, angry thrusts that hurtle me toward a release that I already know will feel bittersweet.
But my body doesn’t care that the air has turned cold between us.
My body doesn’t care that guilt has already settled like a rock in my stomach.
My body doesn’t care that I might have just ruined things as I orgasm, squeezing my eyes tightly shut and hiding from the fact that I can’t give the man who has made it his mission to give me everything the one thing that he needs.
I feel his dick harden right before he comes, his hot release flooding my sex. “I need to get cleaned up before work,” he says, pressing a kiss to the middle of my back before he slides his dick out of me and shuffles off the bed, leaving me alone.
We’ve had a lot of sex in the last four days, and this is the first time he’s ever left me like this.
I know I deserve it, but tears still fill my eyes and slide down my cheeks.
Quickly wiping them away, I roll over and sit up against the pillow, pulling my knees into my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
When the shower starts running, I know I should get up and go to him, but I don’t know if he’ll welcome me or tell me to leave. He’s asked so little of me since we met, that refusing to do as he wants, makes me feel like the user I was worried I’d become after he took my last first.
He’s given me a home, money, clothes…love…and asked for nothing but my trust, and now this in return. He wants us to get married. That’s not a bad thing. I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s called me his and told me this is forever, but marriage is permanent and real.
Truthfully, I had no idea I cared this much about wedding vows.
But the moment he told me we were getting married; I realized that I do care.
I care a lot, and I don’t want to agree to marry him on a whim.
I want to say yes to him when I know with absolute certainty that he won’t change his mind, and that I won’t change mine.
Everything that’s happened between us so far has all been instinctual for him, or at least that’s what he told me. He said the moment he saw me, he knew I was his, but how could he possibly know? Love at first sight isn’t real, and I want us to be real.
I want us to know everything about each other.
I want us to plan a life together and have known each other long enough to understand how that life will look.
I’m a result of a whim. My parents met at a bar and had a one-night stand that ended with a baby.
They thought they were in love, but it turns out they were barely in like, and a month after I was born, my mom left, and neither of us ever saw her again.