Chapter 38 #2
She sinks down slowly, her tight heat enveloping me inch by delicious inch until she’s fully seated. Her eyes flutter closed at the sensation of being completely filled.
“Look at me,” I command, waiting until those blue eyes meet mine. “Now move.”
Her movements are hesitant at first, unsure. I palm her hips harder, guiding her into a rhythm that has us both gasping.
“Play with your tits,” I instruct, my voice rough with need. “Show me how good it feels.”
Her hands rise to cup her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples as she continues to ride me.
“Does my cock feel good inside you?” I ask, watching her face.
“Yes,” she moans, her pace quickening.
I reach up and pinch one nipple, hard enough to make her gasp. “Use your words,” I demand. “Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels… good,” she manages, her rhythm faltering.
Smirking, I grab her hips, holding her in place so she can’t move. “You can do better than that, Alina. Tell me exactly how my cock feels in your cunt.”
Her face flames red at my crude language. “Raffaele, I can’t do that.”
“You can if you want to come again.” I keep her immobile despite her attempts to move. “No more pleasure until you tell me.”
She bites her lip, struggling with herself. “Your… your penis feels amazing inside me,” she whispers.
I pinch her nipple again, harder this time. “This isn’t a medical examination, wife. And this…” I thrust up and deeper into her heat. “… isn’t a penis. It’s a cock or a dick. Say, ‘Your cock feels amazing in my cunt.’”
She swallows hard, her voice barely audible as she repeats, “Your… c-cock feels amazing in my… my c-cunt.”
“Louder,” I demand, loosening my grip just enough to let her move slightly, giving her a taste of the pleasure that awaits.
“Your cock feels amazing in my cunt,” she says, her voice stronger now.
“Such a good fucking wife you are,” I praise, releasing her hips. “Now fuck me like you mean it.”
Her movements grow more confident with my encouragement. Each time she hesitates or uses a euphemism, I stop her pleasure, holding her still until she corrects herself with the crude language that still makes her blush.
“I want to…” she begins, then catches herself. “I want you to fuck me harder.”
“Better,” I growl, thrusting up to meet her downward movements. “What else?”
With each demand, her voice grows stronger, her embarrassment giving way to arousal. I edge her repeatedly, bringing her to the brink of orgasm before stopping, making her use her words to earn her release.
“Please,” she begs after the third time I’ve denied her, “I need to come.”
“Tell me how,” I insist, my own control hanging by a thread.
She takes a deep breath, and when she speaks, her voice is clear and commanding. “I want you to rub my clit while I ride your cock. I want you to pinch my nipples and tell me I’m yours while I come all over your dick.”
Holy fuck. My cock throbs inside her at her words, at the transformation from shy baker to confident woman who knows what she wants.
“Your wish is my command,” I growl, my thumb finding her clit as I thrust up hard into her heat.
She rides me with abandon now, all hesitation gone as she chases her pleasure. “Raffaele, yes! Your cock feels so deep. I’m going to come!”
Her walls clamp down around me as she reaches her peak, her nails digging into my chest as she cries out my name. The sight of her—head thrown back, breasts bouncing, body trembling with release—pushes me over the edge.
I grip her hips hard enough to bruise. “Fuck. Alina. My beautiful, perfect wife,” I growl as I empty myself inside her, shooting my cum deep into her perfect pussy.
When she collapses against my chest, I roll us so she’s on her back. I stay inside her, reaching for a pillow to slide beneath her hips.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice languid with satisfaction.
“Making sure my cum stays where it belongs,” I tell her, slowly withdrawing only to push some of the escaping fluid back inside with my fingers. “Deep inside you.”
She grins up at me, her hair wild around her flushed face. “I think I want to wake up like this on every birthday,” she confesses.
I kiss her deeply, letting her taste herself on my tongue. “That can be arranged, Mrs. Brewer-Russo. That can definitely be arranged, but for now, let’s shower so we can get some food.”
“So it’s really my birthday,” she muses, tilting her head back into the spray. “How did you know? I never told you.”
I laugh, loving how na?ve she seems when she asks things like that. “I know everything about you, Mogliettina,” I remind her, my hands sliding down to cup her ass. “Learning your birthday was the easy part.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance there. “Of course you did, Mr. Thorough.”
I kiss her neck, tasting clean skin and shower water. “It’s part of my charm.”
“And,” she says, turning to face me with shampoo still in her hair, “were you planning on telling me it’s your birthday too?”
I freeze, hands still on her hips. “How did you know that?”
A triumphant smile spreads across her face. “I have my ways,” she grins.
“Alina,” I growl playfully.
“Raven mentioned it when we were dress shopping. She thought it was romantic, us getting married right before our shared birthday.”
“Sneaky,” I mutter. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about my birthday, wife. Definitely not as much as I care about yours.”
“Well, now we can properly celebrate both our birthdays,” she says, rinsing the shampoo from her hair before stepping out of my embrace. “Speaking of which, are you going to tell me what we’re doing today?”
I reach past her to shut off the water. “Breakfast first. There’s a place on one of the smaller islands I want to take you to.”
Her eyes light up at the prospect. “Will I get to drive the boat?”
The eager expression on her face makes my heart skip a beat. “Maybe,” I reply, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her shoulders. “If you’re good.”
“I’m always good,” she protests with a mock pout.
I lean in, biting that protruding lower lip. “That’s not what your filthy mouth was saying earlier.”
Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t look away. Progress.
We dress quickly—Alina in a white sundress that brings out her tan and freckles. She even puts on jewelry: her diamond choker and necklace from her mom. She chatters excitedly about what else we might do today as she twists her damp hair into a loose braid.
I watch her, allowing myself a moment of simple appreciation for this amazing creature who’s now my wife. And I will level the fucking world to nothingness before I let anyone take her from me.
“Ready?” she asks, slipping her feet into sandals.
I push away the dark thoughts. “Ready,” I confirm, taking her hand.
We make our way down from the villa toward the dock where La Fortuna waits. The morning sun is bright but not yet oppressive, the breeze carries the scent of salt and tropical flowers.
Alina squeezes my hand as we walk, pointing out a brightly colored bird darting between the trees.
“Do you think we could have lunch on the beach later?” she asks. “Like a picnic?”
I’m about to respond when movement catches my eye. Colin, emerging from the path ahead, his posture rigid in a way that immediately puts me on alert. Beside him, Ian scans the water with binoculars.
Neither should be visible right now. That’s the arrangement; security stays invisible unless there’s a problem. My body tenses, instincts honed by years of danger recognition screaming at me. Something’s wrong.
“Raffaele?” Alina questions, sensing my sudden tension. “What is it?”
I squeeze her hand once before releasing it, positioning myself slightly in front of her as we continue walking. “Stay close to me,” I murmur, keeping my voice casual despite the adrenaline beginning to pump through my system.
As we approach the dock, I spot it—a boat moving toward our island. Not the security boat we keep stationed nearby. Not a local fishing vessel that sometimes passes in the distance.
This one is sleek and expensive, cutting through the water with purpose. Direct approach. No hesitation.
“Colin,” I call out, my voice sharp enough to carry. “Get Mrs. Brewer-Russo back to the house.”
But it’s too late. The boat is already too close; its occupant is visible now. Colin and Ian abandon their posts, moving swiftly to flank us on either side, no longer maintaining the fiction of invisible security.
“What’s happening?” Alina asks, her voice rising with concern. Her head swivels between all of us. “And who are those guys?” She might have seen Colin and Ian around, but she’s never been properly introduced to them.
I always thought I’d do it back at the mansion, when she fully gets to embrace her life as Mrs. Brewer-Russo. Especially since one of them will always be required to escort her wherever she wants to go.
With the tension rolling off her and the high pitch to her voice, I realize that was a mistake. A big one. I should have made sure she already knew who Colin and Ian are.
Alina steps around me, trying to see what has caused this sudden shift in atmosphere. “Answer me, Raffaele,” she demands, her tone sharp now.
I reach for her, intending to pull her behind me again, but she’s already spotted the approaching vessel. The craft glides toward our dock with precision, its engine quieting as it nears.
Standing at the helm, his posture rigid with authority, is the man I hoped Alina would never have to meet.
“My dad,” I growl, anger and worry for Alina battling within me.