Prologue #2
“Please, baby… please…” she panted, her hands roaming my body before wrapping her fingers around my length. Fuck, I was so hard I worried I might spill right this second. “Please, Thorne… I need you now.”
Her wish was my command as I knelt between her parted legs. Anya’s chest heaved and her skin flushed crimson, and it felt like I had found the answer to all my prayers.
“My wife,” I murmured, running a finger down her jaw. I reached for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. “Whatever happens, always remember that I would start wars for you and burn down this world and the next. You’re worth it all.”
She opened her mouth, but I leaned over her and kissed her; her spine curved and we were chest-to-chest. She shivered as the head of my cock pressed against her entrance.
“You,” I said, and pushed partly into her, barely able to breathe for how tightly she clamped me. “You’re my temple.” I caught the delicate skin of her earlobe between my teeth and nibbled. “My prayer and my reason to sin,” I whispered against her ear. “Now, hold on to me.”
She clawed at my back as I thrust all the way in, crying out as I praised the way she took me.
Her light blue eyes welled with tears and I noticed that she was biting her lip and exhaling shakily.
I forced myself to stay still. I let her get used to my size while I drowned in this amazing feeling of being lost inside her softness and her thighs while her pussy strangled my cock.
“It’s okay,” I rasped against her lips. My cock was proving to be a tight fit, and the sensation had me counting back from a hundred to ensure I didn’t embarrass myself. “Just breathe. I promise it won’t hurt for long.”
“It’s too much,” she whimpered.
“Want me to pull out?” I offered, although I was terrified she’d say yes. My need for her was desperate and I feared it would turn me into a beast.
“No, don’t you dare,” she hissed. “Just give me a moment.”
I leaned down and kissed her slowly, but urgency soon overtook us both. I bit at her neck and shoulders, my tongue lapping over the sting, and although I wanted nothing more than to pound into her, I forced myself to stay still. I waited for her to give me a sign she was ready.
And I was soon rewarded.
She tentatively arched her hips, almost as if testing her own limits. I pulled out halfway, oh so slowly while at the same time reaching down to rub her clit.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders and she closed her eyes.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Give it to me.”
“Anya, I don’t want you to be in pain,” I growled.
She opened her eyes, desire and love shining in them. “I won’t be, Thorne. Everything you do makes me feel good.”
“But—”
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she said, her eyes wide and fervent. She slid her arms around my neck and pulled herself up, her lips brushing against my ear. “I want this. I want you, baby. Please.”
I groaned at her words, my cock surging, and I sank back into her slowly. My thighs and arms trembled with the suppressed need, but I wanted even more for her to enjoy this.
So I pulled back, only to slowly push back in, filling her to the hilt. I closed my eyes and exhaled slow, ragged breaths. My muscles shook with the desire to fuck her hard, but I ignored every screaming instinct.
I ground myself against her clit, pulling out slowly to drag against her G-spot, and her body relaxed with each stroke. Her whimpers of pain were soon replaced by moans that echoed off the church columns.
Then she put her hands on my ass, dug in her claws, and purred, “Now fuck me hard, husband,” into my ear. Our gazes met and she was flushed red—the most beautiful sight. No one so exquisite had ever walked this earth. “I want that. Just look how good we fit.”
I followed her eyes down to where we were joined. The sight was so hot and primal that all my restraint evaporated.
“I love you, Anya,” I muttered, and rammed deep inside her. Home. Fuck, she felt like home.
She muttered something in Spanish, but I was too far gone now to comprehend. My body on top of hers, I supported myself with my forearms, our chests pressed together as my hips dug into her inner thighs.
I thrust into her over and over and over again, burying myself in my wife’s welcoming pussy.
“More,” she urged, and I obliged.
I was driving into her so hard that for the first time in my life every thought in my mind vanished. I was lost to myself, lost to her, and lost to the world. Nothing except the feel of her wet cunt existed.
She was fucking perfection, and I didn’t give a fuck about anything else but filling my woman with my cum.
Words in Russian, Albanian, and English spilled from my mouth as I rutted into her. I had no fucking idea what I was saying. I think at one point I might have told her my real name. But she was just as far gone and spluttering her own unintelligible words.
I fucked her harder and deeper. Faster. I was so close. So fucking close. I had to get deeper inside her, even though I knew there was no physical way. I wanted to imprint onto her marrow. I wanted to make it so she would never leave me. Could never leave me.
I took her mouth, kissing her violently. Worshipping her. I could hardly breathe but I refused to stop, feeling her tighten and writhe beneath me.
And then she broke with my name on her lips. She bucked, crying out against my mouth, her fingernails digging into my skin as we rode out her orgasm together.
All the while I kept thrusting into her through her orgasm until all that remained was following her over the edge. My dick pulsed, matching the thundering beat of my heart in my ears.
I gave a final few thrusts, milking every last throb out of my climax. My cum filled her and then was spilling everywhere, leaking onto the altar.
She wore a lazy, sated smile and I raised myself up on my hands to look down at her.
“Are you okay, wife?”
“Never better,” she hummed, glowing like an angel. “I love you, Thorne.”
“Until death do us part, my angel,” I promised.