“Maximus,” she breathes. At the way she says my name with adoration, my cock twitches, then hardens. I’ve never allowed her the use of my name at her leisure, yet on the rare occasions I have heard it, she was experiencing intense emotion. It’s almost as if she forgets herself and goes to what feels natural, which I find astounding. Does she see me for the man I am, not only the monster?
If so, I want her to continue doing that.
I raise my hand to grip the back of her neck in a hold that more than shows my possessive thoughts concerning her. She parts her lips on an inhale, and I refrain from taking her mouth. Again.
“You said my name,” I tell her. Emotions skate across her face, and most are gone before I can label them, but fear is the one I do latch onto. “Why?”
“I forgot. I’m sorry, sir.”
“You needn’t be.” She squints up at me, and I offer reassurance by running my thumb along the side of her neck in soothing strokes. “If I may call you Emilia, then you may use my given name. It is only fair.”
That glorious smile returns, the one that makes me want to fuck her until I die.
“Very well, Maximus.”
I groan. “Let’s continue on before I get us both arrested by stripping you naked and fucking your tempting body. And mouth.”
She presses her lips together, and a tantalizing glint appears in her gaze. “Fact: According to article 222-32, ‘Publicly visible sexual exhibition in public zones are punishable by one year of imprisonment and 15,000 euros.’ However, I think you can afford it.”
A bark of laughter bursts from me. “You are trouble.”
I finally release her and reclaim her hand. The night continues on with her telling me about all the things she’s learned and with my cock hard as fuck the entire time.
It’s possibly the best night of my life.
By the time we reach the Eiffel Tower, Emilia is speechless. I find that I miss her incessant talking and the sound of her voice, but the wonder in her gaze more than makes up for it. She thanks me for taking her here, and the way she says it has me wanting to give her anything, if she would continue to speak to me like that.
I shove that thought aside as quickly as it arises. There’s a difference between allowing her to explore France and giving her anything. Some things aren’t fucking accessible to anyone.
Not even the one woman I’d consider giving my soul to, in order to see her smile.
* * *
The waymy wife’s cunt squeezes my cock is something I may never get used to.
And I don’t want to.
Her soft cries fill my ears as I fill her, pushing as deep as I can so that every part of me is surrounded by her. My orgasm hits me like a punch to the gut, and my body convulses before I come, marking what is mine.
And Emilia ismine.
That is a truth I can no longer ignore.
I drop my head in the curve of her shoulder and inhale the scent of her. Violence has always brought out the primal side of me, but Emilia triggers it like nothing else. That is why I run my nose along her neck and then bury it in her hair to inhale deep. She wears a light perfume, and only because Rosetta packed it, but it serves to enhance her natural scent. Which I can’t get enough of.
She sighs wearily, and I grin. Emilia might be exhausted now, but it was she who threw down the gauntlet earlier. If last night in the city was the best in my life, then waking up to her sucking my cock is the best morning of my life. Just thinking about that has it stiffening.
“Again?” she whispers, astonishment coating her tone.
“Is that a problem?”
“No.”
“But?” I prompt. I don’t like the note of worry in her voice. The need to see her facial expression has me lifting my head. “What is it?”
She blinks up at me and adjusts under me. If it’s a hint for me to remove myself from her, she’s got another fucking thing coming. Being inside her is the only thing that brings me peace. I don’t understand it, and I don’t have to.
But I can’t deny it either.
