Luca
She clings to me and I get her fear. I’m going through the same. For me, it’s the fear of the unknown. For her, it’s the fear of what she knows. These people. The Bratva. Russia. This should petrify me, but I’ve deep-dived into this and I’m not coming up for air yet.
I don’t know how to set her mind at ease.
Despite assessing every risk with Benedict and Stephano’s input, there’s only so much we can control.
The scales are unbalanced, and they’re tipping toward Masha and what her true agenda is.
For all that Milana trusts her to the extent that she left Zoe with her, this situation comes with frayed seams that could make the whole lot rip apart in seconds.
We kept digging, but didn’t find anything about Masha on the dark web, which should be a good sign, yet I’m not convinced.
But now, I’m holding my wife in my arms, as I have longed to do every single night since her revelation.
Things have been borderline manic with everything we needed to arrange, and sleep wasn’t high on the agenda.
For the first time in days, I have a moment to breathe, whereas she just confessed she’s so scared, she can hardly breathe.
Not exactly encouraging words for a man off to war.
I inhale slowly, treasuring the warm floral scent of her hair, relishing the softness of her skin and the warmth of her breath on my chest as she burrows under my chin.
Ah, fuck. Now I’m getting hard. Of course I’m getting fucking hard. It’s been days of tension with no release, and with her in my arms—my dream, my obsession, my wife—I’m just a man.
She slides her leg over mine, pressing closer as her hand travels over my side to my lower back to slip underneath my briefs’ waistband.
“I wish we could just be. One moment, just us, everybody else safe and just put on hold,” she whispers, lips ghosting over my skin, setting fire to my blood.
“Milana.” My hand inches down her satin nightgown, down to her hip to ruck up the fabric and expose her to my touch.
I want to press pause. To stop. To do this right.
I want her to want me for me, and not because we’re heading into a situation that could end up being death row. “This isn’t what you want.”
This isn’t what I want…how I envisioned our first time together, but I’m not sure which fantasy rules anymore.
Not when this is real. Not when she is real.
Everything about the woman in the photos has morphed into something sacred, because Milana came with the full spectrum of emotions—from heartache to joy—which no image could capture in a split second.
I’ve seen the woman behind the one captured by the lens, and I want to treasure and love her so much more than I wanted to before.
“It’s what we need,” she murmurs into the dark. “Please, Luca.”
She pulls up and opens her legs to straddle me, her naked sex brushing against my thigh. Every nerve in my body registers her slick, wet pussy, warm and inviting against my skin, shattering every doubt: whatever feelings she might have, she physically wants me.
She leans in to caress my face, her lips brushing against my jaw, pressing sweet, flirty kisses to my cheek, closer, deepening them as she homes in on my mouth.
Our first kiss is slow, languid, lips soft and giving against each other as I gather her gown away from her legs, letting her settle on my hard, aching cock where it’s impatient for my mental go-ahead.
“You said I’d be begging for it, wet, wanting, and at your mercy,” she whispers, her voice coyly teasing.
“Yet she’s on top and I’m at her mercy,” I tease back, but my mind is darkened by the knowledge that I might never have a chance to make love to her again.
Like when I kissed her at our wedding, firmly believing I’d only have one opportunity to kiss her.
Things in Russia could go dreadfully wrong. “Are you even ready, princess?”
She grinds into my erection over the fabric, her pussy riding over each piercing, making her gasp. “Is that even a question?”
“I don’t know. You’ve had a baby, and your body—”
“It’s been over four months. but I guess there’s only one way to find out,” she murmurs then kisses me, quieting me and my concerns.
My hands slide up her back into her hair, holding her close, each movement of her tongue deeper, more erotic, more arousing, and then she pulls away, out of breath. She slips her nightgown off, and the white satin shimmers as she drops it.
She is gloriously naked, and I brush my hands along her sides to her breasts, so perfect and soft, her nipples hardened little peaks I want to suck into my mouth.
She leans into me, allowing me to do just that, and I grip her ass as I flick at her nipples with my tongue, circling them one at a time, sucking.
Her little moans…fuck, she’s going to kill me.
She reaches down between us, warm fingers sliding into my briefs, and I groan as she circles the tip of my cock, teasing my frenum piercing by delicately running a fingertip back and forth over it. I’m a fucking goner. I need her.
This might be borderline transactional, but I’m no longer thinking. I flip us over and strip off my briefs and kick them away. She’s on her back, eyes shining as we stare at each other, breathing ragged with anticipation. She slides her hands up my arms as I stroke her lip with my thumb.
“Now you’re at my mercy, princess,” I purr, with me on top, my weight pressing into her, my cock being slicked by her sex. And fuck, she’s wet, and so beautifully ready for me. “I want to watch you.” See every reaction play out on her face, again and again.
She lets go, fumbles for the switch of the bedside lamp, and throws us in its soft glow.
“Then watch me, because I want to watch you too,” she whispers back, and it’s as if the walls between us are finally tumbling down.
I lean back on my haunches, soaking her up.
The creamy white of her skin, the way her hair flows over her bare shoulders, nipples peeking through a few strands.
I gently sweep them to the side, tracing sensual lines over her chest, her breasts, down to where her stomach is soft and so feminine, I want to rest my head on it.
“So fucking gorgeous,” I sigh as I ghost my fingers over her hipbones and lower, to where her legs are splayed open. In rhythmic circles, I stroke her thighs, working my way toward her sex, and she arches into the sensation, dropping her head to the side and clutching the duvet.
“Luca. Touch me already.”
I dip my head, shift to lean down, and follow up my tender exploration with my lips, kissing her now, wanting to make love to her like I’ve never loved before. When I brush my tongue through her slit, a shudder runs through her.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” I murmur, wanting to spend time here, but her hands have burrowed into my hair, pulling me up.
“I need you,” she whispers as I meet her gaze, hovering over her as she cups my face with both hands. “In me. You and me. No barriers. Please.”
I drop my forehead to hers, her words spreading a warm glow through me. Nobody has ever needed me like this before.
“I’ll go slow.” I test her with my fingers, entering her tight, velvet heat, feeling the scar tissue where she ripped. She rolls her hips into my hand, so eager, and I smother a chuckle by kissing her. “I’m not rushing this, princess,” I say between kisses. “Let’s first see if you can take me.”
“I can take you, trust me. Let me remind you, I pushed—”
“Don’t remind me,” I hush her with a kiss as I fist my cock, aligning it with her sex. “Just you and me. No barriers. Us. This. Now.” Nothing else. For a few sweet hours, I will live my dream.
I push into her, and she gasps, so I still. “You good?”
It’s her first time in so long, and I want to be gentle with her, but with all my piercings, my cock isn’t made for this type of gentle. It’s made for intense sensation.
“Yes,” she breathes, wrapping her legs around me, anchoring me in place.
“Good. Speak to me, okay?” I lean up, find purchase on one hand as I trace her cheek with my other. Like this, I can stare into her eyes, watch every reaction to every barbell in my ladder piercings as I enter her, half an inch at a time.
“Don’t stop.”
“Hmm.” I go slowly, sliding in deeper with every push, before pulling back and stopping just before I slide out.
She’s tight, her body protesting, but she wants this. Her one hand wanders up my chest and over my shoulder, as the other clings to my elbow.
“Holy fuck, Luca,” she whispers when I’m fully sheathed, the curve of my pelvis rocking into her clit and piercing, the back of my cock upping sensation in her passage with every thrust.
“Feel how well you take me, Milana. So fucking perfect. Such a good girl,” I groan as I thrust with more vigor, still holding back, giving her time to adjust to my body.
I lean up and balance on one arm, and she looks down as I widen her legs even more by pressing her one knee up and to the side.
“You are so fucking hot,” she whimpers, reaching for my stomach and tracing the contours of my six-pack.
I can feel tension gathering in her body, and I plunge forward again, grinding into her now, focusing on a rhythm that will get her there. “Come for me, princess.”
It doesn’t take long. She seems to tumble into her orgasm as I thrust into her again and it’s so fucking sweet and wet and humbling as she brings my mouth down to hers, drowning me in a kiss that floods along my spine with my own need for release.
“Fuck,” I growl, pinching my eyes closed, holding still, forcing myself to relish each ripple of her orgasm as I hold off my own.
I feel her come down and I hold my stance.
“Jesus. Close call.” For the first time in my life, I played Superman, stopping a bullet train in its tracks, breaking out in a sweat with the effort. “Holy fucking hell.”
“You didn’t come?” she says, her voice somewhat in awe but accusative too.
“No. Hold still,” I croak out. “I’m not done.” Breathe. “With you.” Breathe. “I want to make you come again.” Breathe. “Just like this.”