35. Liana
THIRTY-FIVE
LIANA
H ours later, we were back home. Home.
Growing up in Siberia, Mother’s compound was a reluctant safe place from her enemies. Santiago’s home was a minefield, and Perez’s prison was hell. The compound I’d built for Amara and me was a safe haven, but even then, it hadn’t felt like home. The concept had eluded me forever.
Until now.
Once we entered the bedroom, Giovanni closed the space between us and cradled my face gently.
“You were quiet on the way home.” His deep voice had goosebumps flying over every inch of my skin. His hand slid to the side of my neck before he fisted my hair and tugged. He brought his mouth over my ear. “I want to know why. I want to know everything that’s going through your brilliant mind.”
I tried to act like I hadn’t just come to a startling revelation, that the stark reality that I was in love with this man wasn’t sending my heart racing.
“You can’t demand to know what I’m thinking,” I challenged, unable to stop myself.
He brought his face back to mine, letting go of my hair. “But I am demanding it, Lia. I want to ease your worries, help you achieve your plans, and most of all, I want to ensure you’re not?—”
He cut himself off.
“I’m not what?” Unable to stop myself, I arched my pelvis forward and encouraged him to finish that statement.I closed my eyes as he banded his arm around my back and I rotated my hips against his hard length.
“Are you not thinking about running?” My eyes shot open in surprise to find his mouth hovering close to mine. “I’ll give you anything, but I need to know you won’t run. My moral compass doesn’t stretch that far,” he gritted.
His words should have had me bolting out the door, but strangely they didn’t. It felt right, and I knew the aching need between my legs could only be relieved in one way: him. There was no turning back now.
I took a step back, he took one forward. One step. Two steps. Three. My ass landed on our bed and without thinking too much into it, I parted my knees, the dress hiking up my bare legs.
His hands flew to my thighs, his eyes burning with the need that flamed inside me. I needed this man. The one who knew every horrible thing I’d done and still wanted me. The villainess.
“I choose you. Us. This .” I reached up to trail a finger across his brow. “I’m not going anywhere, Giovanni.”
He cupped my cheek, then reached around to my back, leaning into me as he deftly unzipped my dress. He lowered on his haunches as he pulled the material over my hips and down my legs.
Bringing his face back into my line of sight, he unhooked the clasp of my bra next and discarded it on the floor.
Then he threaded a hand through my loose strands while dropping his mouth over my ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll be sore for days.”
“What’s taking you so long,” I said, unable to stop the provocation, getting off on whatever the hell was going on between us right now.
His hand went straight to my throat, but he didn’t grip hard. Just a light hold of possession as he kissed the shell of my ear. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in me. Quite the opposite: I loved every second of it.
He moved the hand at my throat down, dragging his knuckles across my collarbone.
“I should have taken you eight years ago,” he muttered, almost as if he was speaking to himself.
“You should have,” I whispered, my voice catching.“But it would seem saving me wasn’t in anyone’s cards.”
I could see a surprise flicker in his eyes and the truth lay between us. The admission that I wanted to be saved eight years ago. That I hoped for it for so long.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “How can you forgive me for not taking you away?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Like you said, it’s in the past now. There’s no changing it. No sense in reliving it.” He cocked his head and slid his hand up my neck before making a pass of his thumb along the line of my lips. “I want you.” Every part of me woke up, even the parts I’d thought were dead. “Right here and now. That’s all I know.”
Snatching my face between his palms, he kissed me. His tongue commanded mine, devouring. When he broke the kiss, I fisted his shirt, begging him to come back.
I grabbed hold of him, hooking my ankles around his back and anchoring them, clutching him as if my life depended on it.
“I want you,” I whispered, our frenzied breaths intertwining as he peered at me.
“You have me. Every single piece of me is yours,” he remarked in an almost lazy tone before he dropped his mouth over mine again. Owning it, my body, and every emotion.
His hand went to my thigh and he squeezed before his palm found my center. I was so wet that my arousal had soaked through my panties.
“My wife is needy,” he said against my lips, and I nodded frantically.
He backed away, his eyes never leaving mine as he worked the buttons of his shirt free then discarded it on the floor. “I need your panties gone. Want to see you naked and spread out on our bed.”
He palmed his belt buckle and snapped it off in one move, a crackle like electricity zipping through the air as the leather was pulled through the hoops.
I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my panties, shoving them down. The belt unraveled from his hand and fell to the ground with a loud clunk, and he grabbed hold of my ankles and spread them wide open.
For a moment, he remained still while staring at me, naked and on display. Then he resumed stripping his clothes. Once he was gloriously naked, he took his thick cock in his tattooed hand and tugged—once, twice—before he let go of himself.
His knees came to rest on the mattress, spreading open my legs even farther.
“I’ve been dreaming about tasting you,” he said in a husky tone as he dipped his head between my thighs. He ran his fingers up toward the apex of my thighs, sending need pulsing to my center. He slid a finger along my seam, closing his eyes for a moment.
He settled there, drawing my pussy straight to his mouth, and I couldn’t stifle the cry that left my lips. He kissed my soaking entrance softly. A full-mouthed kiss. His tongue slid up my seam, and the moans coming from him, as if he was enjoying this as much as I was, nearly sent me over the edge.
He guided my legs over his shoulders to better bury his face between my thighs and I brought my hands to his thick hair, fisting it. He pushed two fingers inside my tight walls while devouring me and I began grinding against him, his facial hair tickling my sensitive skin, spurring me on even more as I chased the end even though I didn’t want it to come yet.
“That’s right,” he purred against my clit. “Fuck my face.”
His dark words vibrated against my skin. I kept hold of his hair as I did as he instructed and before long, white-hot pleasure shot me and I spiraled. I cried out his name, over and over again. Before I had a chance to get my bearings, he hovered over me, my tits smashing against his sculpted chest and my hands above my head.
“You ready for me, wife?” He skated his palm over my scarred stomach then slid a finger between my legs, and I shuddered.
“Yes.”
He grabbed hold of my hips, his cock at my entrance. “You sure?”
“Yes, please don’t make me wait,” I pleaded.
He hooked my ankles around his hips before setting a hand alongside my body. This close, I could feel his heart hammering wildly as his crown rested against my throbbing entrance. Then he slammed into me in one fast movement.
I gasped and he stilled.
Emotions rattled against my ribcage, demanding to be let out, and for the first time ever, it felt like a good thing. Like I had been numb and locked in the dark for so long that this felt like being pulled into the light.
“Okay?” he mumbled, barely hanging on to his control.
“Don’t hold back,” I breathed. He began moving, thrusting slowly, the rock-solid muscle over me making my body ache, the bundle of nerves between my legs on fire with need. I could feel every inch of him, driving into me with torturous slowness.
“Harder,” I begged, canting my hips against his.
He began thrusting faster and harder. He pulled out all the way before grinding back in, setting all my nerve endings on fire. His hand reached between our bodies, playing with my clit, sending sparks skittering down my spine.
Flesh against flesh, my moans and his grunts bounced off the bedroom walls.
With a savage drive of his hips, he pinned me to the bed and fucked me. Hard. Without restraint.
He fucked me exactly the way I needed him to, his cock hitting my sweet spot. I could feel another orgasm building, thrust after thrust, as if I didn’t come hard enough to cry just minutes ago.
“Oh… oh… th-there…”
“This body is mine,” he growled, his hips grinding against mine. He slapped my ass then rubbed it, never easing his movements. “Now come for me.”
And I did.
A second orgasm slammed into me as I screamed his name. With my back arched and my head thrown against the pillows, I cried out, wracked with pleasure for the second time tonight. I shuddered, my insides clenching around his length, moaning and clawing at his back as he kept thrusting. The sensation didn’t let up until I felt like I was about to faint.
A few more thrusts and Giovanni’s grunts filled the air as he pulled out of me and came all over my stomach.
This must be what it meant to be thoroughly fucked.
Just when I thought Giovanni was going to release me, his hand came around my throat. He said, “We’ve just gotten started, my love,” into my ear, and I let myself fall once more.