Page 90 of Forsaking All Others

It was like the idea of never having each other again that way had flipped a trigger, and now we couldn’t find the off switch for the blazing fire that existed between us.

He had only to catch my eye when he came home from work to ignite the flames that lay banked like hot coals in my belly.

We had barely made it inside the house after the charity event before he was pushing me against the wall and fucking me just like he had when he took my virginity with a house full of guests on our first wedding anniversary.

When my legs gave out as I climbed the stairs afterward, dripping with his cum and jelly kneed, Dario had scooped me into his arms and carried me to my bedroom, where he crawled into bed beside me, smothered me in his heavy limbs, and promptly fell asleep.

It was basically rinse and repeat every day since.

He fucked me at night no matter when either of us got home from work, even one day when I was already asleep in bed and he’d woken me up with his cock driving into my prepped pussy. I was always too exhausted after to question him properly, and when I woke up beside him each morning, it was because he had woken me up to play with me before dashing away to work, leaving me heaving and climax drunk on my bed.

Now, this. A middle-of-the-night wake-up call like he hadn’t fucked me more frequently in the last few days than he ever had before.

I hissed as his hand found my wet folds and traced the swollen crease.

“Sore?” he asked on a low purr, like the thought thrilled him.

“A little,” I admitted, but pushed back into his hand. “But I like it.”

“Oh, I know you do.” He gripped his shaft to draw his head up and down my seam in a sinuous tease. “Just like you love being played with in your sleep and waking up ready for my cock.”

I groaned shamelessly in answer, canting my hips to try to catch him at my entrance and force him inside.

He placed his tip right where I needed him but held his hips back no matter how I gyrated, laughing wickedly at my eagerness. One big hand spanned the base of my back, and his voice was thoughtful, tinged with dark passion, as he said, “You would look so sexy with my name tattooed just here.”

“Dario Ferretti?” I gasped, my sarcasm lost to the niggle of pleasure as he sank inside me one degree. “I don’t think so.”

The quality of his quietness changed, humming loudly like an old appliance, a tension there I didn’t understand.

“Maybe you’re right,” he allowed, his thumb brushing over the dip of my back into my bottom, the sensitive skin buzzing under his touch. “Maybe just the word mine. Because you are mine, aren’t you, fiamma? Even when you fight it, you know I own you.”

A shiver ripped down my spine, but I didn’t deign to answer.

We both knew he was right.

He didn’t own my heart, but the rest?

I was his property as his wife and his sex toy by choice.

If he wanted to breach that final frontier, I had little doubt he could do it. Win me, instead of own me, earn me instead of negotiating for me and seducing me.

Until the last week, I had just believed he would never be interested.

But here he was, palming my tailbone and whispering to me about marking me as his. Taking me to dinner, to a place entirely unlike our usual because he knew I would like it, because it was a secret retreat he could share with me.

It wasn’t a grand declaration of love, but it was something.

Something that felt like the beginning of a domino effect of the great wall I’d erected around my soft, girlish heart.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he coaxed, lowering himself again so his hot breath was on my neck and his torso was pressed into my back.

His cock throbbed just inside me, and I ached through to the back of my teeth to have him drive deeper.

He pushed in slightly, then retreated, once, twice, and stilled, waiting for my confirmation.

“It will feel so good to give in,” he mollified, running a hand down my side the way you might soothe an agitated horse. “Tell me what I want to hear, principessa, and I’ll give you so much pleasure you will end in tears.”

A groan wrenched from my throat, and a moment later, when his hand slid between the bed and my hip to reach for my clit, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers, I bucked my hips and gasped.