Chapter Thirty-Five
Lucas
I pull the zipper on the back of her dress down in one swift motion, with her still pinned to the door.
Then I break the kiss and spin her around, releasing her wrists to pull the dress down her body and let it fall to her feet.
She is breathing hard as she stands there, facing me in her black lace bra and panties.
My throat goes dry as I take her in. She is breathtaking, her golden skin beckons to me like the sweetest honey, and her gleaming hair cascades down her back, making her look like she just stepped out of a Botticelli painting.
And her eyes. She is looking up at me, gaze wide and uncertain.
The green swirls amidst the amber depths are calling out to my soul like sirens to a lost sailor, and I would readily drown in their abyss.
I lift my hand to cup her face, tracing her bottom lip with my thumb. My heartbeat is drumming so loudly in my ears I am sure she must hear it.
“My wife…” I murmur, savoring the word, letting the sound roll over my tongue like a prayer.
Her breath hitches and she tenses, but she doesn’t move.
I let my hand slide down to her throat and encircle the slim column, my fingertips brushing her skin, feeling her pulse flutter like a caged bird. Fuck, she is perfect.
I need to feel her, to smell her…to taste her.
I crush my mouth on hers while my arm bands around her to pull her flush against me.
Her mouth opens to me, and I want to cry out in victory of her surrender.
My wife… The words circle my mind like a mantra, igniting a possessiveness that threatens to pull me under.
I lean back to unhook her bra and slide it off her arms, then I take in the marks covering her body.
My marks, showing the world that she is mine.
I kiss each one of them on my way down, until I am on my knees in front of her, my face buried in her belly.
The need to see it swollen with my baby is so intense I get lightheaded.
But I will give her more time to get used to us first. After all, we are newlyweds.
I hook my thumbs under the lace of her panties and pull them down her legs, nudging her lightly so she steps out of them. She obeys, eyes dazed.
“Good girl,” I praise. “Good girls deserve a reward.”
I see her throat work, and she swallows, color rising in her cheeks as she stares down at me, eyes slowly clouding with lust. I hold her gaze for a beat longer, then I hook her leg over my shoulder, part her pussy lips with my fingers and dive in.
I let out a long groan when I drag my tongue over her and let her taste invade my senses.
She is fucking addictive. I growl hungrily as I open my mouth wide to eat her.
I faintly hear her moan, feel her fingers glide into my hair as she sways.
I grab her hip to steady her as I tease, lick and suck her clit, letting her hoarse moans and cries guide me.
My dick is hard enough to pound nails and precum is seeping into my boxers and pants.
But I need this, tasting her, feeling her unravel under my tongue, ruining her for everyone else but me.
I draw circles over her clit with my tongue, suck it into my mouth, nip with my teeth until her voice is hoarse from crying out my name.
When I feel that she won’t last longer, I glide my hand down and slide two fingers into her, pushing the soft spot inside her while my mouth devours her pussy.
She shatters with a loud cry, and her release runs down my chin as I suck and lick until her tremors fade, until she is standing with her head thrown back, eyes closed and chest heaving.
I put her leg down and stand up, wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand.
Her eyes snap open and lock with mine, and once again, I drown in them.
Before she can register the movement, I have her thrown on her back on the mattress, and I am poised over her like a beast over its prey.
* * * *
I retrieve my phone from the heap of clothes lying on the floor and walk silently downstairs into the kitchen. Chiara—my wife—is still passed out in our bed, and I remembered that she might be hungry after the long day. She hasn’t eaten since this morning, if at all.
I shoot off a group text to D and Teo,
If Lorenzo Vitale from Chicago wants to see you, stall and let me know. I need to be there. Will explain later.
Then I take out a tray and plates and start to load up food I know she likes.
I quickly slice and lay out her favorite fruits—grapes, figs, strawberries.
On another plate, I pile cheese, nuts, and crackers spread with cottage cheese.
I add some chocolate as a nice finishing touch.
Then I pour her favorite tea and set two glasses of orange juice on the side and I’m ready to go up again.
I look at my phone to see that D and Teo have replied with a thumb up emoji and put it in the pocket of the jogging pants I’ve slipped on before coming down.
It’s the middle of the afternoon, but I will be damned if I let her out of our bedroom for the foreseeable future, even if it’s for food. I’ll bring her food. I’ll bring her everything she needs. I’ll bring her the world.
When I slip back into the room, the first thing I register is her form sprawled out on the bed on her belly, her lower half covered by the sheet.
Her face is turned to the other side, leaving the golden strands of her hair fanning out over the pillows.
I put the tray down on the nightstand and lie back down next to her, raking my eyes hungrily over her beautiful form.
I haven’t had enough of her, and deep down I know that I’ll never be sated.
I’m rock-hard again. But first, she needs to eat, I remind myself.
I brush her hair from her face, trailing kisses over her back and shoulder. She begins to stir with a soft moan, and it takes everything in me not to pounce at her.
“Mia moglie…my wife,” I murmur against her soft skin again and again, as if branding the words into her body, into her soul. She wakes at last and props herself up on her forearms.
“What time is it?” she asks in a raspy voice that travels straight down to my dick.
“Three in the afternoon,” I reply between kisses on her shoulder. Fuck, I am intoxicated by her scent, by her voice, by her. “You need to eat, you skipped lunch.” The explanation sounds more like a warning for myself, than a reminder for her.
I sit up, leaning against the headboard and gather her sideways in my arms, so that her ass is settled between my spread legs and her shoulder is leaning against my chest. I smile when she gathers the sheet around her to hide herself from me.
As if she could. But everything in its own time.
I tilt her face up with a finger under her chin and tenderly kiss her lips.
Her eyes are still hazy from sleep and probably from exhaustion, and she looks disoriented and small in my arms, like a drowsy kitten.
I reach for a strawberry and brush it against her lips.
She opens them obediently and I slip the fruit in.
When her lips close over it, I can’t restrain the low growl that has been clawing its way out of my throat any longer.
I smash my lips on hers and thrust my tongue in, tasting the sweetness of the berry against her tongue, licking up the juice escaping from our entwined lips.
She lets out a startled cry and struggles to break free, but my fingers in her hair prevent any escape, as does my arm wrapped around her middle.
I break the kiss and look down at her in warning, challenging her to push me further.
“You’d better get used to it, love. You are my wife, and you will let me take care of you.”
Her eyes narrow as she frowns up at me, apparently not sleepy anymore.
“You are completely insane,” she hisses. “That’s not taking care, that’s coercion. And this is not a marriage but a hostage situation.”
I can’t hold back my smirk. “Call it what you want, in the end you are still mine.” I take a slice of fig from the tray. “Now open up.”
As I’ve hoped, she refuses and stubbornly turns her face away. “And here I thought that we’d made progress,” I tsk as I slip the slice into my mouth.
She opens her mouth to reply, but I strike so fast she has no time to react.
In a blink my lips are on hers and I push the fruit into her mouth.
She lets out a shocked squeak, and I let out a chuckle as our tongues tangle around the sweetness of the fig.
When I pull back, her face is heated and her eyes are blazing with outrage.
“Your choice, cara mia. Either you eat what I give you, or I’ll make you eat every damn bite.” I smile at her, but it feels more like a snarl. “And believe me, I’ll take great pleasure in making you submit.”
She glares at me for a beat longer, then looks away, as if ashamed if she surrenders. But I won’t have that. I grab her jaw to turn her face back to me, willing her to see the truth in my eyes.
“Never be ashamed because you let me take care of you, cara mia. Let me. Let me take care of your every need.” The last words sound dangerously like a plea.
She slowly lowers her eyes and suddenly she freezes.
“Lucas…what’s this?” I follow her gaze down to my naked chest.
Right, she’s never seen it before because I’ve always been either dressed or in the dark.
I don’t reply, but I look at her face, waiting to see if she will realize the meaning of it.
Her confused eyes flit from my eyes to the tattoo sitting over my heart, a gothic completely black sun, its rays scattering across my sternum and up my shoulders like it exploded outward in a burst of ragged shards.
In its center, consuming the void, the letter C is worked so seamlessly into the design it’s impossible to tell whether it’s emerging from the darkness or consuming it.
She lifts her hand as if to trace the lines, but her trembling fingers stop an inch from my skin. I catch her hand and put it there, willing her to understand that this belongs to her.
She inhales sharply and looks up at me with confusion in her eyes.
“You didn’t have this before… When did you get this?”
“When you disappeared,” I confess.
She frowns and takes her hand away to have a closer look. I can’t suppress a shudder when she lightly traces the letter with her fingertip. My heart thunders under her touch.
She shakes her head, still frowning. “But… Why?” The question is a mere whisper.
I catch her jaw to tilt her face up, willing her, no, forcing her to see what she’s done to me.
“Because, love,” I reply in a rough voice. “The sun has fallen. And you made it fall, you were my sunfall when you left, leaving only this black void.” I tap the tattoo carved over my heart.
Shock and understanding creep into her gaze. She shakes her head in denial. “No…” she whispers.
“Yes,” I say forcefully, almost viciously, pressing my thumb harder into her jaw. “You left me in darkness, you hollowed me out. You obliterated my reality and reshaped it into a purgatory. And the only thought tethering me to sanity was the certainty that I’d find you again.”
Tears gather in her eyes as she looks up at me, still shaking her head.
When I see that she still refuses to see the truth, I cite the quote that had been my damnation during the dark months of her absence.
“If you but knew what my love for you is! ’Tis fire, melted lead, a thousand daggers in my heart. ”
She breathes in audibly and her eyes widen in understanding. “Frollo,” she whispers, voice filled with dread.
I chuckle darkly. Now she gets it. Her precious sun god Phoebus is no more, he has been ripped from the sky.
Crushed to dust and cinder. And what rose from the ashes is not a god, not a hero, but something forged in loss and obsession.
Something that doesn’t shine, but burns.
And I would scorch the world to ashes before I let her escape me again.
“Now eat, cara mia,” I say lightly as I hold up another strawberry to her lips.