Chapter 27
EMILY
When a man like Lorenzo asks if I desire him, what can I possibly say?
Ever since I laid eyes on him, I’ve been fighting my attraction to him.
And from the lingerie set he displayed on my bathroom counter, he’s clearly attracted to me as well.
And wants to take it further.
But everything has gone too far.
Ever since I arrived, I’ve taken every step possible to prevent Lorenzo from laying a hand on me.
Now, my body pulsates for his touch.
When he slides my robe from my shoulders, I find myself leaning in toward him.
Beneath the lingerie’s thin silk my nipples harden in desire, wanting him to touch them.
I’m surprised to find my pulse racing, cheeks burning.
And that incessant pulsation and hunger between my thighs.
“Touch me. Feel how much I want you,” he growls, voice low and dangerous. His thigh presses between mine, holding me down.
I feel him hard and thick through his trousers against my silk-covered thigh.
“Like hell I will,” I gasp, making a lackluster show of squirming out of his grasp.
The movement forces my hungry pussy against his cock. A small, involuntary sound escapes my throat.
Lorenzo shifts, using his body weight to still me.
His free hand catches my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“Raise your voice to me again and you’ll be sorry, wife.”
Defiance flares.
I buck against him.
He flips me onto my stomach, pressing me down into the mattress with his chest against my back.
Lorenzo’s erection nestles firmly against the curve of my bottom, separated only by thin layers of fabric.
I whimper. Half in protest. Half because my body’s desiring something far more dangerous.
“Lorenz—” His name breaks off as his lips brush the shell of my ear.
“Shh.” His voice softens unexpectedly. “Easy, Emily. I’m not going to hurt you.”
His grip on my wrists loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go.
Instead, he brushes my hair aside and presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of my neck.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?”
I bury my face in the sheets, mortified.
“No,” I whisper. “I’m a virgin.”
In an instant, the arrogant mafia prince who’d pinned me down moments ago melts into something gentler. Protective.
“Christ,” he breathes. He releases my wrists entirely and turns me onto my back, cradling my face between his large hands.
Lorenzo’s black eyes search mine, the hunger warring with something real. “We don’t have to—”
It takes me only a minute to think it through.
I’d never ‘saved myself’ for any particular reason. It wasn’t any highfalutin sense of wanting to be a virgin when I married.
I had no interest in being part of any man’s conquest.
And I’d never been attracted to a man, on both an emotional and physical level, the way I’m attracted to Lorenzo.
“I want to,” I say quickly, before I can lose my nerve.
My voice trembles. “I… I want you, Lorenzo. Even if I know I shouldn’t.”
He kisses me slow and deep.
His tongue traces my lower lip until I open for him.
I taste scotch and something darker. Even more masculine.
My hands fist in his shirt as heat spirals through me.
Lorenzo takes his time undressing me. The robe slips off my shoulders.
Lingerie follows.
Every inch of newly exposed skin receives his kiss, a graze of his teeth, or a teasing lick.
He lavishes attention on my breasts until I whimper.
My conservative upbringing crumbles under waves of sensation I’d never imagined.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against my stomach. “So fucking perfect.”
His hands part my thighs with a gentle motion.
I tense, suddenly shy, but he soothes me with soft words and slower kisses along my inner thighs.
When his mouth finally finds my most intimate place, my fingers grasp at his dark hair.
I writhe as he licks and sucks with practiced skill, coaxing pleasure from me until my legs shake.
My first orgasm from his tongue washes over me like a wave.
Only then does he shed the rest of his clothes.
I stare. Michelangelo’s David has nothing on the hard, sculpted lines of Lorenzo’s body.
Or the thick, heavy length of his cock jutting upward.
Lorenzo gathers me close and kisses me until desire courses through my body.
He positions himself on top of me, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
I’m slick and ready from his mouth. Yet he moves carefully, inch by inch, watching my face.
For someone as cold and arrogant as Lorenzo, I sense he’s trying to read me. Trying to discover if I’m feeling pain or pleasure.
It’s all pleasure, and I’m sure he sees that.
I gasp as he suddenly breaks through my barrier.
After giving me a moment of recovery, he eases into rhythmic strides.
So this is sex, I think to myself, still recovering from the shock and sensation of Lorenzo becoming part of me.
When he ventures deeper and harder, my nails dig into his shoulders.
“Shh, schoolmarm. Breathe.”
He kisses away the tears that slip from the corners of my eyes.
“You feel so good. So tight around me.”
His strokes build a new kind of fire inside me.
Without consciously realizing it, I move against him. Then I wrap my legs around his waist, instinctively pulling him deeper.
Through my mix of emotions I realize that his every thrust is measured, angled to brush that sensitive spot inside me.
“Look at me,” Lorenzo commands.
Our eyes lock as the rhythm intensifies.
Lorenzo catches my wrists again, pinning them beside my head while he drives into me with deep, rolling strokes.
The contrast makes me dizzy with pleasure.
I come again with his name on my lips, clenching around him.
Only then does he let himself go, burying his face in my neck as he climaxes inside me with a low groan.
We stay tangled together afterward, his weight a comforting blanket.
Lorenzo’s fingers trace lazy circles on my back while I steady my breathing.
So it’s happened. The marriage has been consummated.
It’s only temporary.
But now I’m no longer sure I want it to end.