Page 80 of Claimed Through Deception

"Niccolò," I sob, the tears finally spilling over my lashes as I throw my arms around his neck. "It is beautiful. It is perfect. I love it."

"It belongs to you," he fiercely replies, burying his face in my hair as his arms crush me against his chest. "You own the building, the land, and the business. No one can ever take it from you, Livia. You are never going to be beholden to anyone ever again."

He pulls back just enough to look at my face, his thumbs wiping the moisture from my cheeks. The pride radiating from his expression quickly shifts, melting into a hunger that makes my breath hitch. We are completely alone in the isolated, sunlit building. The guards are stationed at the bottom of the driveway, ensuring our privacy.

"I love you," I confess, the words tearing from my throat with an unfiltered honesty. "I love you so much it physically hurts my chest. You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

A vulnerable tremor wracks his massive frame. He crushes his mouth to mine, swallowing my confession with a ravenous, bruising kiss. I open for him instantly, my tongue sweeping against his, tasting the salt of my own tears mixed with his mint and coffee flavor. He walks me backward until the backs of my thighs hit the edge of the flour-dusted prep counter.

He grips my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the stainless-steel surface. He spreads my knees, stepping into the cradle of my thighs, his broad shoulders blocking out the sunlight.

"Say it again," he demands, his voice a gravelly, filthy rasp as he pushes my floral maternity dress up to my hips.

"I love you," I whimper, my head falling back as his mouth trails scorching, open-mouthed kisses down the column of my throat.

He rips my cotton panties down my legs, tossing the fabric onto the floor. I am completely exposed to the warm summer air, slick and aching for his touch. He doesn't rush. He drops to his knees on the terracotta tiles, positioning himself between my spread thighs.

"You are a fucking goddess, so fucking ripe," he praises, his obsidian eyes worshiping the swollen curve of my stomach before tracking lower to the glistening, swollen folds of my core.

He leans forward, pressing his mouth against my center.

I scream, my hands flying back to grip the edge of the metal counter as a blinding jolt of electricity shoots up my spine. He devours me, his tongue lashing expertly against my most sensitive cluster of nerves. He is ruthless, employing a filthy, agonizing rhythm that forces my hips to buck wildly against his face. He uses his large hands to grip my thighs, holding me firmly in place, refusing to let me escape the torment.

"Please," I sob, my vision flashing with brilliant white light. "Niccolò, please, it is too much."

"You take exactly what I give you," he growls against my slick skin, replacing his mouth with two thick fingers.

He drives his fingers inside me, stretching my slick sheath, while his thumb resumes the merciless assault on my clit. I am thrashing, completely unhinged, drowning in a sea of ecstasy. I beg him in fractured, breathless syllables, my nails scratching against the stainless steel as he edges me closer and closer to the precipice.

Just as my inner muscles begin to clamp, signaling the impending release, he abruptly withdraws his hand.

I whine, a pathetic, frustrated sound, my body arching in protest.

Niccolò stands up, his chest heaving, his eyes dilated until they are completely black. He unbuckles his belt with impatient, frantic motions, freeing his rigid, aching length from his trousers. He grips my hips, hauling me to the very edge of the counter, and aligns his body with mine.

"Tell me who owns this body," he commands, his thumb pressing firmly against the pulse point at my throat.

"You do," I cry out, reaching down to guide his thick arousal to my entrance. "Only you. Fuck me, Niccolò. I need you inside me."

He obliges with a brutal, unforgiving thrust, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion. The stretch is incredible, a searing, magnificent fullness that forces a guttural moan from my lips. He is so massive, stretching my slick walls to their physical limit, but the angle of the counter ensures he doesn't press against my pregnant stomach.

He withdraws almost completely before gently sliding back into my heat. The impact sends a loud smack echoing through the empty bakery. He sets a punishing, chaotic pace, driving into me with a desperate hunger that proves exactly how much he worships my changing anatomy. He isn't treating me like fragile glass, he is treating me like a woman who commands his entire soul.

"Look at me," he rasps, catching my jaw to force my eyes open. "Look at what you do to me, Livia. You ruined me for anything else."

"Good," I breathe, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer. "I want to ruin you. I want you obsessed."

"I am a fucking slave to you," he curses, his thrusts turning jagged and erratic.

He pulls one hand back and brings it down hard against my bare thigh. The sharp, stinging smack resonates in the sunlit room, sending a rush of hot blood straight to my core. The degradation fuels the fire, incinerating the last shreds of my restraint. He strikes me again, harder, the wicked sting melting into an agonizing pleasure that tips me right over the edge.

I shatter into a million pieces. A magnificent, helpless scream tears from my throat as my inner muscles clamp violently around his cock. I milk him with crushing force, my body bowing off the counter as wave after wave of intense climax wrecks my nervous system.

My release destroys his control. Niccolò roars my name, and drives into me one final time. He empties his release inside my body with a violent, shuddering climax, his forehead dropping against my collarbone as he fights to drag oxygen back into his lungs.

We remain tangled together on the edge of the flour-dusted counter, our breathing ragged and completely out of sync. He withdraws slowly, taking meticulous care as he pulls my dress back down over my thighs. He gathers me into his arms, lifting me off the cold metal and holding me flush against his chest.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of bergamot and sweat, while his hand rests protectively over our baby.