25. Matilde #3
He frowns before seeming to give himself a mental shake. “Okay.” He reaches for the light switch, and we’re bathed in darkness. “Come.”
He lifts me off the counter and carries me into the bedroom, throwing back the duvet and placing me on the dark satin sheets.
Curious, I watch him unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the ground and kicking off his shoes.
Oh, I like this show. I saw him in the shower but not enough. I want to see it all tonight.
Instead, he dims the lights in here as well until I can barely make out his form.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because.”
That is no answer, but the rustling sound of fabric tells me he’s stripping out of the rest of his clothes. Does he think the sight of his penis will frighten me that much? I’m innocent, but I’m not uneducated.
None of my arguments make it past my lips because the bed dips with his weight and I hear a sound I can’t place, a rip and crinkling noise. I'm tense again, recalling the stranger’s gloved hands. “I’m putting on a condom. It’s not latex.”
I exhale slowly. “Will you want more children?” It’s probably not sexy of me to bring it up now, but shouldn’t we discuss it?
“Would you want that?” he replies, surprising me.
“My stepmother said the man decides.”
“What did we say about her?” I bite my lip, giggling softly. “If you want them, we’ll have them.”
My heart swells with hope of what might be. “Someday,” I decide. “Not now. Not next year.”
“Okay. There’s plenty of time for that. I’ll go slow,” he murmurs, his solid form gingerly lowering on top of me.
His body is warm, and the feel of his skin thrills me, and I like the prickle of his chest hair tickling my breasts.
“Spread your legs.” I do, anxious and flustered but too eager for the experience to refuse.
Something hot and hard pokes against me down there. It feels much thicker than his two fingers. I remember how large it looked in the shower. I don’t think the glass door was messing with my perception either.
“Nico?” I whimper, shifting beneath him.
“Have you changed your mind?”
“Could you stop if I said so? If a man is this close to-”
“A man can always stop, tesoro.” He kisses my forehead tenderly. “One word from you, and no matter what I’m doing, I will stop.”
Drawing comfort and courage from those words, I whisper, “Don’t stop.”
His hips thrust forward, and he pushes his way inside me.
The air leaves my lungs with the invasion, and I grip his shoulders tightly.
“Goddamn, you’re tight,” he huffs, sounding pained.
I mumble gibberish in response. “Try to relax. Loosen your muscles if you can.” I nod, knowing I can’t do either thing and wondering if he can even see the nod in the dark. “Do you want me to eat you again?”
What he did in the bathroom was fantastic, but this is too new and uncomfortable for me to relax. “No.”
“If you prefer, I can finish quickly.”
I have no idea what I prefer yet but getting this over with sounds preferable at the moment, so I nod again.
He moves his hips back and forth, an advance and retreat, almost like a dance.
Slowly at first but picking up speed. Then, he slips his arms under my shoulders, holding me closer.
Hot and dirty whispers in my ear with his body covering mine.
I focus on his masculine scent and the feel of his muscled shoulders, biting back another whimper when he moves faster.
But the immediate discomfort soon fades, and there’s something lyrical in this joining.
I hoped I might like it. Now, I believe I could come to love it with some practice.
I wish that he would kiss me, but his breaths grow quicker.
Instinct tells me he’s close to his own precipice.
The sensation of fullness reaches its climax when he grunts suddenly.
I don’t join him in the leap, but I’m full of effervescent bubbles, like a glass of champagne, with the final few pumps of his hips.
After, he rolls off me, catching his breath. In the shadows, I see him fiddling with the condom, and my belly flips in a funny way when he stands. The light in the bathroom comes on, and I hear the faucet running. I frown. Is that it? No final kiss, no sweet words?
But he returns a couple of minutes later with a warm washcloth. He slipped on a pair of underwear while he was away. “Here,” he murmurs, pressing the healing heat to my tender pussy. “There’s some blood. Would you like to shower?”
I shake my head, too stunned by it all to move. He carefully cleans me before pulling the covers up to my chin. Then, he strokes my cheek. I press my face into his palm, craving a smidgeon of affection. He draws his hand away, making my heart wince.
“Your sister and the children will be here early tomorrow, and I have a meeting with Vicini and some of the underbosses before they leave town. We should get some sleep.”
I want to protest. I want to talk, to touch, to understand this man fully. But it’s been a very long day, and just like all the other possibilities in our marriage, we have time to figure things out.