52. Antonio
Chapter fifty-two
Antonio
N othing fucking compares to seeing Isabella completely lose it. I've already made her come twice, and each time is burned into my memory.
First, I used that vibrator she can't get enough of. The way she squirmed as I teased her with it, running it along her thighs, circling her clit but never quite giving her what she needed. When I finally pressed it against her, she damn near levitated off the bed. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she fell apart, her fingers twisting in the sheets, those long legs shaking. Hearing my name on her lips like that? Got me harder than steel faster than I expected.
For round two, I went old school - just my tongue and fingers. I took my sweet time, savoring every inch of her. The taste of her on my tongue, the way she'd gasp when I hit just the right spot - it was fucking intoxicating. I curled two of my fingers inside her, knuckle-deep, finding that spot that makes her see stars, while I worked her clit with my tongue. She was still sensitive from the first go, and before long she was crying out again, her thighs clamping around my head like a vice.
Now, I'm finally buried balls-deep inside her, and it's like coming home. The feeling of her wrapped around me, hot and tight and perfect, is almost too much. But I never want it to end.
We're sitting face to face, her legs wrapped tight around my waist, mine crossed beneath her perfect ass. It's so fucking intimate. Her soft skin slides against mine, slick with sweat. Her breasts press against my chest, nipples hard points of sensation that drive me wild with every breath she takes.
As I start to move, I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear. My voice comes out as a low, primal growl.
"Look at you, Bella. Already came twice and you're still greedy for more."
She shudders against me, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her nails dig into my shoulders, urging me closer.
"Your pussy's dripping for me, isn't it? Squeezing my cock like you never want to let go."
I thrust deeper, feeling her clench around me. Isabella gasps, her head falling back, her hands gripping my shoulders, exposing the long line of her throat. I can't resist nipping at it.
"You're insatiable, aren't you? I bet you could come again right now, just from me being inside you."
Her hips buck against mine, as if proving my point. Her eyes are dark with lust, pupils blown wide.
"Want me to make you scream my name one more time? Want everyone in this fucking fortress to know who you belong to?"
"Yes," she breathes, her voice husky with need. "Antonio, yes."
I pull back slightly, my eyes boring into hers. Her lips are parted, cheeks flushed, and she's never looked more beautiful.
"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight, until you're overflowing with my cum. And then I'm going to do it all over again."
Isabella moans, loud and unrestrained. Her walls flutter around me, telling me she's close again already.
“Because you're mine, Isabella. Every. Inch. When you sucked me, man, fucking your mouth almost brought me to my knees and now it’s your turn."
She crashes her lips against mine in response, her body trembling with need. When we break apart, she's panting.
"Prove it," she challenges, her voice husky. "Show me I'm yours."
I can't stop touching her. My hands roam her body, memorizing every curve, every scar.
"You feel that, Bella?" I growl. "How perfectly you fit in my hands? Like you were made for me."
The way her spine arches draws a groan from me.
"That's it, baby. Take what you need from me."
She makes a little gasp when I tug gently on her hair. "You like that, don't you? Like when I'm a little rough?"
Every twitch, every tiny movement, I feel it all. The way her pussy clenches around me.
"Fuck, you're tight," I hiss. "So wet for me. Only for me."
Her soft pants against my neck, her lips brushing my skin with each exhale. The tremble in her thighs as she grinds against me, chasing another high.
"That's it, ride me," I encourage. "Show me how much you want this. How much you want me."
It's almost too much, but I can't get enough. I never want this to end.
"Look at me," I command softly. "I want to see your eyes when you come."
When she screams my name, it's like a lightning bolt straight to my core.
"That's it, Bella. Come for me. Let me feel you."
My balls tighten, drawing up close to my body, and I'm spilling inside her, filling her up. I growl her name like it's like it's the only word I know.
"Isabella... fuck... you're everything."
As we come down, still connected so deeply, I can't help myself. My teeth sink into the soft flesh where her neck meets her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. I need to leave something of me on her, in her, with her. The taste of her skin, salty with sweat, lingers on my tongue.
She chuckles, still breathless, her walls fluttering around me in aftershocks that threaten to drive me insane. "Is that for me or for them?"
Them. Those Greek bastards who are taking her away from me. The thought makes my blood boil, but it's tinged with the bitter taste of fear. The image from my nightmare flashes through my mind - Isabella floating lifeless in the Mediterranean, her eyes accusing. I'm the one who pushed her away first, aren't I? The one who nearly destroyed everything we had.
I hold her tighter, my cock twitching inside her, as if my body's trying to keep her here. Safe. With me.
"It's for me," I start, my voice rough with emotion. "For them." My lips brush against her marked skin, soothing the bite with my tongue, chasing away the phantom taste of blood from my dream. "For you." I pull back, meeting her eyes, searching for any trace of the lifelessness I saw in my nightmare. There's none - only warmth and desire. "For the whole fucking universe."
I pause, swallowing hard. The words feel heavy, loaded with all the shit we've been through. "I want the world to remember you're mine, Isabella. And whatever happens to you, happens to me. You understand?"
It's a promise and a threat all rolled into one, but it's also a plea. A desperate attempt to make up for all the times I've failed her, to keep the nightmares at bay. Because like this, heart to heart, skin to skin, joined in the most intimate way possible, I can almost believe we're one person. That I haven't fucked everything up beyond repair.
I press a kiss to her temple, inhaling her scent, committing this moment to memory. "You good?" I murmur, my voice rougher than I intended.
She nods, a soft "Mhmm" escaping her lips.
I should feel triumphant. I just fucked my wife six ways from Sunday, marked her as mine. But part of me wonders: what if—despite this moment—she realizes she can't fully forgive me? What if this connection, as intense as it is, isn't enough to erase all the shit I've put her through?
I tighten my arms around her, as if I could keep her here by sheer force of will. Tomorrow, she leaves for Greece. To face a past neither of us fully understands. And I'm left here, powerless to protect her.
"Remember this," I growl softly, my lips against her ear. "Remember us."
It's not just a command. It's a fucking plea and vow. Because I'll move heaven and earth to keep her safe, to keep her mine.
And yes, I’m fucking terrified she might decide to stay away. But if fear is what it takes to protect her, then I'll embrace that shit with open arms.