29. Matilde
Matilde
He does not answer my question. He licks my pussy instead, spinning my words into moans. “How is it possible you taste this fucking good?” he growls.
How is it possible for a woman to think straight when he’s doing this?
Another swipe of his tongue, my belly tightens and my thighs begin to quiver. “I can’t wait to make you come. I want to fucking drown in your sweet musk.”
My hard-won fluency in English melts away in the darkness and with his dirty words, and a flood of Italian, words I never would’ve dared speak under my father’s roof, falls from my mouth. It seems to spur him on.
He nuzzles his face between my thighs, intermittently licking and sucking on my clit and pussy lips as I rock my hips tentatively.
His stubble prickles my sensitive flesh, but that only adds to the pleasure somehow.
I squeeze his fingers as my climax mounts behind the walls only he may tear down.
I would swear this is some dark magic, the way he expertly traces my clit, tasting and teasing and tempting me toward my collapse.
Two of his fingers slip inside my entrance, increasing the soreness that’s lingered all day but filling me with a delicious, throbbing satisfaction, too.
“Yes, honey… Fuck.” The rumbled curse, the way he sounds practically unhinged in a way he rarely ever displays outside this bedroom, he masterfully kindles that raging fire in my blood, bringing out the wildness inside me.
Throwing my head back, I let it take me into that valley of sweet nothingness, past the rocks and under the waves.
The warm bubble of bliss hasn’t even started to ebb when I feel myself being turned over. Two strong hands at my waist, and he pulls me to my knees. “Ride my face now.”
“I can’t see,” I gasp, uncertain of what to do.
“You don’t need to see. You only need to feel. Grab the headboard.”
I feel the bed dipping with his weight as he rolls, and my pulse speeds up as he settles on his back.
Patting and nudging my thighs and hips, he guides me into position so that I may straddle his face.
It feels awkward yet fuels a dark fire inside me when I grasp the headboard in order to prevent myself from toppling over.
I want to see him, but his hot breath down there silences my protests, and his tongue soon has my knuckles turning white.
A low moan builds deep inside my chest while his hands stay glued to my hips, expertly moving my body so that every lick strikes a primal note deep within, a symphony meant only for us.
In the dark, my crowded brain is surprisingly silent as I focus on what my husband is doing. On what my husband apparently likes doing.
One of his hands sneaks up past my hip until he’s tugging on one of my nipples.
It’s like an electrical signal to my core, demanding I yield to pleasure again.
I bite back a scream, and Nico slaps my ass, the sting far more erotic than it should be.
“No, wife, you give me those screams.” How can his muffled voice sound so incredibly sexy?
“The children might hear.”
“The children are too young to know or care what we do in here.”
“My sis-”
“-Is farther away and should be sleeping this late. Obey me and let your husband know if he’s pleasing you.”
With my soft exhale of agreement, he returns to fingering me. He cups his lips over my clit, humming and sucking until the dark room is covered in stars when I break apart for him. His name is ripped from my mouth as I cry out, overcome and out of reasons to defy his orders.
My strength vanishes inside my orgasm until I’m incapable of doing more than hanging on limply to the headboard.
How the hell is he supposed to breathe? Yet, he never stops what he’s doing, still licking and nibbling and lapping contentedly.
It’s obscene the way he devours me as if I’m his never-ending feast.
“Dolce miele,” he rasps as my hips rock through the final wave of my climax. Sweet honey. Flushing, I awkwardly try to move off him. He holds me tighter. “Where are you going?”
“You need to breathe.”
“To hell with breathing.”
Giggles spill past my lips. “Stubborn man. I want light. I want to see you.”
He reluctantly loosens his hold. “What parts of me do you wish to see, Matilde?” he drawls in a wry tone.
“Do not make me say.”
“I insist.”
“You are mean.”
“Many people would agree with you.”
“I have not seen it up close yet.”
“It?”
“I should claw your eyes out,” I grumble in Italian.
“You peeked on me in the shower. You saw it then.”
My face burns. “Not enough.”
Amused chuckling fills the room, lighting me up in the dark. I like making Nico laugh. Then, he flicks on the bedside lamp. “Better?”
Much better. Bathed in the soft yellowish glow, his body fascinates me.
From those stormy gray eyes to the hair on his muscled legs, every inch of Nico draws me in.
His torso is powerful, tanned and perfect even with his Trio tattoo and various scars.
His abs are defined and his waist narrows toward his hips with that delicious V.
His lips and chin are glistening. I’m both embarrassed and turned on by the reason why.
“That is too big to be inside me,” I say, appraising his cock.
He smirks, reaching up to lightly stroke my cheek. “Too late to claim that now. Have you ever seen a naked man before me?”
I nod and then shake my head. “Only in pictures.”
“Good.”
I roll my eyes at his possessiveness, even if I expect nothing less from a man like Nico. “You will leave the lights on when I want to admire you,” I tell him, feeling bold.
“Oh, I will, will I?”
“Yes. I will never see any other man naked.”
“No, you won’t unless you want him dead. Too bad I can’t murder a picture.”
I shake my head at him, but my eyes automatically dart back to his semi-erect cock. I could feel his hardness earlier when we were kissing and tearing at our clothes. Perhaps eating me leaves him less excited. But a pool of wetness on the sheets suggests otherwise. “Is this…”
“My cum.” He pairs his statement with an unbothered shrug while fresh heat blasts my cheeks. “So innocent,” he murmurs, cupping my face. “I couldn’t help it when you were close to coming the first time.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You turn me into a fucking boy apparently.”
“Oh.”
A ridiculous sense of pride fills me, and he chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready for more soon.” Just then, his cock twitches as though it agrees, making my eyes fly open wide. Full-throated laughter this time as his abs tighten in a way that makes my pussy clench. I love hearing him laugh.
But when he strokes my face again and I try to mimic his move, wariness leaps into his expression. He does not like for me to touch his face. Why? Is it a fear response because of how he got his scar?
I content myself with touching his chest instead, running my fingernails along his pecs and mesmerized by the sprinkling of wiry, dark hair.
I watch the way it rises and falls with his deep breaths.
I could touch him all night. What a marvelous thing to think I might, that I will have him for this night and all of our nights to come.
My hand settles over some small cursive script in Italian tattooed under his ribs. “I did not see this before - Camminerò fino all’inferno per te.”
“I will walk to hell for you,” he repeats in English.
For you. The Trio? His wife? His children? How long has he had it? I’m afraid to ask.
While I’m pondering what to say next, he shifts to his side, rubbing my hip. “I want to fuck you.”
I shiver at the husked words, my desire stirring once more, but I can’t manage more than a nod before he turns me onto my belly.
Sucking in a rapid breath, my nostrils are filled with his scent from his pillow.
Goosebumps cover my skin as he lightly strokes my butt.
Will it hurt this way? I don’t know for certain, but I feel more vulnerable.
“Lift your hips,” he murmurs. My heart races as he settles over me. He’s bigger and so much stronger. A moment of panic flares when I feel his cock pressing against my opening, and I tense, expecting pain. “Relax.”
I nod into the pillow, still feeling unsure until Nico’s hand slips between my legs, and he starts rubbing my clit, stoking the hunger inside me with such ease. Patiently, he pleasures me, waiting for my thighs to unclench. A hesitant moan escapes before long.
“That’s it. I can’t wait to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock again. You were so tight last night. Driving me out of my goddamn mind. Let me fuck you, wife.”
I want that. I want to feel him inside of me again. I want to trust him with my body. And maybe with my heart as foolish as that is.
My hand slides down the sheets until it’s covering his, my silent signal for him to give me more.
The pressure increases, a delicious friction that uncoils the tightness my earlier fear had produced.
A low hum of arousal courses through me.
I can feel myself getting wet again. Nico feels it, too.
He dips his finger into my opening and then spreads my wetness over my clit.
Repeats the action with seemingly infinite patience until my pussy is slick and ready.
His voice is drenched with lust when at last he roughly pants, “Is this okay or shall I stop, Matilde?”