“Yes,” she pants. “I need you to start moving.”
Fuck yes. Her wish is my command.
I pull almost all the way out before slowly, oh so slowly, pushing back inside her hot pussy. She rocks her hips, just enough to drive me fucking wild.
This time, I move a little faster, fuck her a bit harder and deeper. Her moans are music to my ears, a salve to my brutalized soul.
Honestly, a lot of women can’t take me, not all of me. I’m too big—it’s a fucking curse. But Elena’smoaning. I’m able to bury my cock all the way in her sweet pussy. It’s a miracle. It’s like she was made for me. Perfect.
I revel in the feel of her, her amber scent, the small noises that escape her perfect lips. Lips I want to kiss, but that’s too intimate. I won’t allow myself to fall down that abyss ever again. I’ll fuck her, I’ll eat her cunt, but I won’t kiss her on the mouth. That’s where I draw the line. She needs to know about that boundary, and she will soon enough.
All too soon, my spine tingles and my balls tighten. How long as it been since I’ve had sex? I don’t know. Far too long. I usually last longer, but she’s so fucking tight and wet.
I’m not going to last much longer, even with all of these thoughts swirling through my head. Sliding my hand between us, I stroke her clit until she’s a shuddering, writhing mess.
When she comes, I’m right there with her, emptying my cum deep inside this beautiful woman. I never do this bareback, butshe’s my wife and I want her pregnant as soon as possible. The sooner we produce a child of our mixed Irish-Italian lines, the more secure the peace treaty will be between our people. We’ll be bound by marriage and blood.
She trembles beneath me, clinging to my shoulders, her legs wrapped around my hips. Easing out of her fluttering cunt, I roll to the side and give myself a moment to catch my breath before heading to the bathroom.
After cleaning myself up, I grab a washcloth and run it under hot water. Cloth in hand, I return to the main room and approach the bed. She must be sore. The warmth will help?—
A click sounds, followed by a blinding light. I shield my eyes against the glare.
Fuck. Frozen, I stand there, naked, and she has no doubt seen everything I’ve been trying to keep hidden. My disfigurement.
With a roar, I lunge for the bedside lamp. I grab it, and smash it to the floor, engulfing the room in darkness once again.
“I told youno lights,” I snarl in Elena’s direction. “Didn’t you fucking hear me?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her timid tone infuriates me even more.
“Here. Clean yourself up.” I toss the warm washcloth at her, then turn away to find my trousers and shirt. Quickly dressing, I leave the bungalow in search of some fresh air. On my way out, I slam the door shut, hoping my actions clearly communicate that I don’t want to be followed.
Not that she would follow me after what she just saw.
I’d intended to keep my body hidden from my wife for as long as possible, but that’s now fucked. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Or maybe I should have stripped in front of her so she could see the kind of monster she was getting into bed with from the start. Too late now. We’ve consummated this marriage.
Horrified or not, she’s my wife, and she’s not going anywhere.
CHAPTER 5
Ravenna
Scars, tattoos, melted flesh…all I can think about is how muchpainis etched into his skin. Who did that to him? Are those from wounds he received in battles with my family, or was it someone else?
However he got hurt, those scars are obviously a sore spot judging by the look of shame and fear in his eyes, and his anger. I won’t forget that sight anytime soon.
Just like I won’t forget the way he tenderly… made love to me. That was not fucking, by my limited understanding. It only hurt for a moment, and I’m now sore, but the pleasure outweighed the pain. By a lot. Which is a delightful surprise.
The way he treated me was not at all what I expected. He has a quick switch from asshole, to caring lover, back to totalstronzo. Moody and unpredictable—that’s what I’ve learned about the stranger that is my husband.
He has an Irish temper, and a sharp tongue to go with it. But his touch is something that I crave. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.
God give me strength.
Istartle awake, my gaze landing on Cian who sits in an armchair across the room, staring at me. He’s dressed in a black T-shirt and dark wash jeans, his hair freshly washed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. The dark circles under his eyes tell me he hasn’t slept. But it’s morning. Sunlight filters through the gauzy curtains.
“Were you watching me sleep?” I pull the covers up to my chin, awkwardly aware of my nudity in the light of day.
