23. Federica
FEDERICA
By the time Valerio gets us to the wedding suite, I no longer care that my hair is falling down or that my dress is half-ruined or that I may have left one shoe somewhere between the elevator and the corridor.
I care about his hands, his mouth and about the fact that he said he loves me and the words have been living under my skin ever since.
The door shuts behind us. He locks it, then turns to me with his chest moving hard beneath his shirt.
For a second, neither of us moves.
I feel suddenly shy.
Which is ridiculous, considering I just had his head under my wedding skirts in a public corridor. But this is different. There’s a bed behind me. There’s no interruption to pretend we’re not choosing this. There’s only him and me and the truth we finally dragged into the open.
He sees the change in me at once.
“Fede.” His voice is rough. “We can stop.”
“I don’t want to stop.”
His eyes drop to my mouth. “Thank God.”
I see relief in his eyes. Without hesitation, he crosses the room and kisses me again.
This kiss is slower. Deeper. It still has hunger in it, but something tender sits beneath, and that is what breaks me. I can handle desire. Desire I understand. This feels closer to being cherished, and my body has no idea what to do with that except lean closer.
He walks me back to the bed without taking his mouth from mine.
My knees hit the mattress. He lays me down carefully, then follows, bracing himself over me. The weight of him feels unreal. Valerio Greco. Rio. My husband.
Mine.
The thought makes me reach for him with both hands.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He goes still above me.
Then his forehead drops to mine. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
His breath shakes. “I love you too. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember who I was before it.”
My throat tightens. I kiss him because I can’t answer that without crying.
He undresses me slowly after that. Not because he’s calm. He’s anything but calm. I feel the restraint in every careful tug, every pause, every breath he takes before touching more of me.
When I’m finally bare beneath him, I fight the instinct to cover myself.
His gaze moves over me with such open hunger that I feel beautiful before I can feel afraid.
“Perfect,” he says.
I laugh shakily. “You’re just saying it ‘cause you’ve bought me now. Ruined your warranty too.”
“Not yet,” he says darkly. “But I’m about to.”
The words turn me liquid.
His hand stills at my hip. His expression changes.
“Have you done this before?”
Heat floods my face. “No.”
He closes his eyes for one second. When he opens them, the hunger is still there, but so is something fiercely protective. “Then we go slow.”
“I don’t want slow.”
“You’ll get slow, anyway.”
I huff. “Bossy.”
“Yes.” He presses a kiss to my collarbone. “In case you didn’t notice, I am, in fact, the boss.”
I should argue. I usually would but instead, I focus on how his fingers move over me with such patient attention that every argument dissolves into moans.
He takes his time. He learns me with his hands and his mouth again, and the quiet praise he murmurs against my skin.
“So beautiful,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect. Let me hear you, bellissima.”
I unravel in pieces. First my pride. Then my nerves. Then the last thin layer of fear.
And then there’s only want.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this exposed, and yet, I’ve never felt safer. Every time Valerio finds a spot that makes me gasp, he lingers, his voice a low, vibrating rumble against my skin.
"That's it," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "Just like that. Give me every sound, Fede."
The praise makes my stomach flip, a warm, honey-like heat spreading from my chest down to my thighs. I arch my back, my fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, pulling him closer. I want more. I want everything.
“Please,” I murmur.
I don’t need to say anything else.
He shifts, moving his body between my thighs.
He doesn't rush. He stays braced on his elbows, looking down at me with dark eyes blown wide with a mix of lust and an intensity that makes my heart hammer against my ribs.
He reaches down, his fingers finding my wet slit, rubbing my clit in slow, deliberate circles that make me whimper.
"I'm going to take care of you," he whispers. "I'm going to make you feel everything."
He reaches for pants, stripping them off in one fluid motion.
When he reveals himself, I catch my breath. He's thick, heavy, and pulsing, the sight of him making my pussy ache with a sudden, sharp need to be filled. I never thought being a virgin for so long would come with the side-effect of being this hungry for it, and yet…
But maybe it’s not the fact that I’m a virgin. Maybe it’s just him. After all, it’s always been him. No one else.
He guides his cock to my entrance, the broad head rubbing against my opening, teasing me.
"You're so tight," he groans, his voice thick. "So fucking perfect for me."
He pushes in slowly. I gasp, my hips lifting off the mattress as I feel the stretch.
It’s a lot—a pressure that borders on pain—but it’s a good pain. A fullness that feels like it's completing something inside me. I grip his biceps, my knuckles white, as he pauses, letting me adjust to him.
"Look at me, Fede," he commands softly.
I open my eyes, locking onto his. The raw devotion in his gaze is almost as overwhelming as the feeling of him inside me. He kisses me deeply, swallowing my moan as he begins to move.
He starts with shallow, careful thrusts, sliding in and out just enough to make me shiver.
"Such a good girl," he pants against my lips. "Just breathe for me."
The praise fuels me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to erase any space left between us.
He responds by picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, more rhythmic. Each time he slams into me, he hits that spot deep inside, sending jolts of electricity through my core.
"So wet," he groans, his chest heaving against mine. "I can feel you clamping around me. You feel incredible, bellissima."
I'm sobbing now, not from sadness, but from the sheer force of the pleasure. I can't think, can't breathe, only feel the friction of his cock sliding through my heat and the weight of his body pinning me to the bed.
He doesn't stop, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. He keeps talking, telling me how beautiful I look under him, how much he's wanted this, how I'm finally his.
The tension builds until it's a physical weight, a coil winding tighter and tighter in my gut. I feel the orgasm coming, a crashing wave that threatens to swallow me whole.
I cry out his name, my nails digging into his back as the first spasm hits.
My walls clamp down hard on him, pulsing in violent, rhythmic waves. I'm shaking, my vision blurring, as the pleasure explodes behind my eyelids.
Valerio lets out a guttural roar, his body stiffening as he delivers several deep, powerful thrusts, burying himself as far as he can go.
He comes inside me, the heat of it flooding my womb, sending me spiraling further into the peak.
When he finally collapses on top of me, we're both a shivering mess. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath ragged and hot. He looks at me with such raw love that it hurts.
He kisses my forehead, then my nose, then my lips, tasting the salt of my tears and the heat of our skin.
"You did so well," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "So fucking perfect."
I reach up, cupping his face, my breath still coming in ragged gasps, and pull him down for a kiss that lasts forever.