Chapter 16 #2
He kisses me deeply, and I can feel him trembling with restraint. His hand slides down my stomach, over my hip, and then finally where I need him most. One finger traces through my wetness, and we both groan.
“So wet for me already,” he murmurs.
“Please. Please.”
One finger slides in, and my hips lift off the bed as I gasp in pleasure.
“You’re so tight,” he murmurs, fascination in his voice. “Your pussy is gripping my finger so hard. When I fuck you, you’re going to feel every inch.”
He pumps his finger slowly, and I can hear the wet sounds my body is making. When he adds a second finger, the stretch is more pronounced.
“That’s it. Take both of them. You’re going to need to be stretched and ready for my cock.”
He scissors his fingers, working me open, and I can feel myself getting wetter.
“Look at you, taking my fingers so well. Such a good girl for me. You’re dripping down my hand, making a mess on these expensive sheets.”
“Vincenzo—”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I—I need—”
“Say it. Tell me exactly what you need, doe.”
“I need you inside me. Please.”
“You have me inside you.” He curls his fingers, hitting that spot that makes me see stars.
“More. I need more. I need your—” I can’t say it.
“My what? My cock? Is that what you need? Say it.”
“Yes. Your cock. Please.”
His thumb finds my clit, circling with maddening precision. “First, I want to feel you come on my fingers. Just like you did when I crept into your bedroom.”
He works me higher and higher, faster and faster.
Then I feel it. That pressure building. The same overwhelming sensation from before that made my body do something I didn’t understand.
“Wait,” I gasp, my hand flying down to grip his wrist. “Vincenzo, stop.”
“What’s wrong?” His fingers slow but don’t stop.
“It feels like last time.” My face burns with humiliation. “Like I’m going to—”
A devilish smile spreads over his face, and his eyes go dark with hunger. “Like you’re going to squirt for me again?”
“Please, God, it’s so embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” He curls his fingers harder against that spot, and I cry out. “Doe, do you have any idea how fucking sexy it is? Watching you lose control like that? Feeling you come so hard you drench my hand?”
“But it’s so messy”
“I don’t care about messy.” His voice drops to something commanding. “I love messy. I need you to do it again. I need to feel you let go for me.”
“I don’t know if I can stop it.”
“Good. Don’t stop it. I want you to.” He increases the pressure, his fingers moving faster, hitting that spot over and over. “I want you to squirt all over my hand. I want to feel how much you trust me. How much you let yourself go with me.”
My face burns with humiliation at the thought of losing control like that again, of making such a mess on our wedding night. But God, it feels so good. And the way he’s looking at me is like he’s never wanted anything more in his life. “Vincenzo—oh God—”
“That’s it. Stop fighting it. Let it happen.” His thumb works my clit in tight circles while his fingers curl relentlessly inside me. “You’re my wife now. That means I get all of you. Every messy, perfect, beautiful part of you.”
The pressure builds unbearably, that feeling like I need to pee but different, more intense and overwhelming.
“I can feel you struggling to hold back. Don’t. Give it to me. Soak these sheets. Make a mess. Show me how good I make you feel.”
“I’m—I’m going to—”
“Yes, you are. Come for me, doe. Squirt for me.”
He thrusts his fingers hard and fast, and the command in his voice breaks something loose inside me. I shatter with a scream, and liquid gushes from my body, warm and shocking, soaking his hand, his wrist, splashing onto the expensive sheets beneath us.
“Fuck yes,” he groans, working me through it, his fingers never stopping as I squirt again, my body convulsing with pleasure I can barely stand. “That’s my perfect girl. Look at you. So fucking beautiful when you let go.”
I’m crying and shaking and gasping, overwhelmed by sensation, by the vulnerability, by how exposed I feel.
But he’s looking at me like I’ve given him the greatest gift in the world.
“God, Adora.” He pulls his soaked fingers out slowly and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean while maintaining eye contact. “You taste incredible. And watching you lose control like that? Knowing I’m the only one who gets to see this? Who gets to make you do this?”
I watch him, fascinated, my face burning. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
“It’s fucking perfect.” He kisses me deeply, and I can taste myself on his tongue. “Don’t ever be embarrassed about how your body responds to me. Every sound you make, every way you come, every mess you make. It’s all mine, and I love every second of it.
“Now,” he says, his voice rough with need, “I’m going to fuck you properly. And if you squirt on my cock, even better.”
When I can focus again, I realize he’s still half dressed.
“I want to see you,” I gasp, still breathing hard. “All of you.”
He stands and undresses with deliberate slowness.
His belt, button, zipper, and then he’s pushing his pants and boxer briefs down in one motion.
His cock springs free, and my breath catches.
He’s long and thick, curving slightly upward, the head flushed dark with need. A bead of precum glistens at the tip.
“Oh God,” I breathe. My husband is beautiful. Dangerous, inked, and scarred and absolutely perfect. And impressively, intimidatingly aroused.
He traces the bruises on his ribs. “You see these? Every mark on my body is because of what we survived to get here. And now I’m going to make sure every inch of you knows who you belong to.”
He wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly from base to tip, and I watch, mesmerized. “Like what you see, doe?”
“Come here,” I whisper, reaching for him.
He settles back over me, and I feel the hard length of him against my inner thigh.
“Are you nervous?” he asks, reading me perfectly.
“A little. But I want you.” I slide my hands down his back, feeling the flex of muscle under scarred skin.
“I know.” He grips my jaw gently but firmly, forcing me to keep his gaze. “Here’s what’s going to happen, doe. I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to push inside this tight little pussy and make you mine in every way that matters. And you’re going to take every inch of me. Understand?”
I nod, breathless. “Use your words.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Good girl.” He releases my jaw and grips my thighs, pushing my knees up toward my chest. “Hold them there. I want you open for me.” I grip the backs of my thighs, feeling exposed and vulnerable and desperate.
“Perfect.” He positions himself at my entrance.
“Once I’m inside you, you’re mine. Completely. Forever. Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me who you belong to.”
“You. I belong to you, Vincenzo.”
There’s a blaze of satisfaction in his eyes. “Good girl.”
I feel the thick, blunt head of his cock pushing against my wet sex with just enough pressure to make me gasp.
He pushes in slowly, and it’s overwhelming. The stretch, the burn, the fullness.
“Breathe, doe. That’s it. Breathe and take me.” His voice is strained with control. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re choking my cock.”
“It’s—it’s a lot—”
“I know. But you can take it. You’re going to take all of me.” He pushes deeper, and I gasp. “There you go. Good girl. Just a little more.”
I focus on the rhythm of air in and out, and gradually the burn fades into something better. I arch against him experimentally, testing the feeling of him lodged inside me. He sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s fully sheathed inside me, and we’re pressed together with no space left between us.
“Christ,” he breathes, his forehead pressed to mine. “You feel incredible. Do you feel how deep I am? This is what it means to be mine, Adora. This is what I’ve been wanting to do since the moment I saw you. Fill this perfect pussy and make you forget there was ever a time I wasn’t inside you.”
He pulls out slowly before pushing back in, and the friction makes me moan. Each thrust is deep, purposeful, angled perfectly to make me gasp.
“That’s it. Let me hear you. Let me hear how good my cock feels inside you.”
The wet sounds of our bodies fill the room. I can feel how slick I am, feel my arousal coating him, making each slide easier.
“Moan louder. I want everyone in this fucking mansion to know I’m fucking my wife.”
He picks up the pace, each thrust harder, deeper, more possessive. My cries grow louder and louder.
“You’re so wet I can feel you dripping down my balls,” he groans. “Your pussy is making such pretty sounds for me. Listen to how wet you are.”
He picks up the pace, one hand gripping my thigh while the other braces beside my head, and I’m lost in the perfect friction of every thrust.
He adjusts the angle, hitting deeper, and I cry out. “There it is. Right there. That’s the spot that’s going to make you come all over my cock. Touch yourself. I want to feel you come around me. Touch your pretty clit while I fuck you. I want to watch.”
My hand slides between us, hesitant, and when my fingers find the right spot, pleasure crashes through me.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his rhythm never faltering. “Just like that. Let me feel it. Let me feel you getting close.”
The pressure builds and builds, higher than before, more intense. I’m trembling, gasping, right on the edge.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough. “Eyes on me. I want to see your face when you come on my cock. Want to watch you fall apart for me.”
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze.
“That’s my girl. Now come. Come on my cock. Let me feel this tight little pussy squeeze me.”