Without giving me a moment to recover, he gives me a savage grin as his thrusts become faster, heartlessly rough inside me as his hips snap back and forth. “One more,mia cattiva ragazza, my dirty girl. One more and I’ll let you rest.”
It’s turning into a blur for me, that confusing intersection of pain and arousal that only Dario can make me feel, something so intense that at any other time I would refuse to endure such a thing. But when he’s inside me, fucking me in this harsh, greedy way… all I can do is link my hands behind his neck and moan, arching and keening against him in a mindless, obedient way.
When an especially savage bounce sends him impossibly, cruelly far up inside me, the dam holding back that orgasm breaks and I throw back my head and wail my joy, shaking as if my insides had been set on fire this time, the burn and the sting just as arousing. Feeling me give in to him, Dario groans, teeth clenched as he spurts inside me, shoving his cock up over and over, trying to flood me inside.
Yelping as we fall back against the wall, I breathlessly giggle as he presses his shaking knees against the hard surface, trying to hold us upright. When he feels like he can stand up without falling over, he carefully pulls himself from me, smiling in that annoyingmaleway as his come drips from me and slicks over my thighs. He tidies me between kisses and careful strokes over sore skin and then dresses me in a soft cotton robe, laying me on the bed.
I’m watching between sleepy eyes as he pours me a glass of water from a pitcher over by the food and wine on the table. “Why don’t you just give me a water bottle?” I ask as he helps me sit up and holds the glass to my lips, not trusting my shaky hands.
“It’s the act of caring for someone,Bellissima.You are mine to watch over, and the act of pouring a glass and helping you hold it is important. You are worth far more than just throwing a water bottle at you and telling you to drink it,” he explains, watching me take a sip.
“That is… so weirdly romantic that I don’t know what to say,” I said, holding the glass with both hands.
Climbing into bed with me, Dario pulls a soft blanket up over us. “You’ll feel better if you take a short nap before I take you home. Kelli is doing just fine…” his lips twitch, “just fine with Alessio. So, close your eyes and rest, I’ll watch over you.”
Turning my face into the little, safe space between his neck and his shoulder, I sucked in a deep sigh. Those words shouldn’t feel as good as they do.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In which the mundane moments of marriage can be lovely.
Dario…
I’m buried in work for the next few days when all I want to be buried in, is Cora. In between hanging out with Kelli, she wanders around the penthouse in a bit of a daze with a loose-lipped smile. Every time I finally make it home, I force myself to ask about her day, has she eaten, and then I have her on the nearest horizontal surface, legs up as I yank her undies off.
I eat her out as she struggles to tell me about her adventures with Kelli, or I pound into her as she keeps her hand over her mouth, trying not to scream and alarm the bodyguards. I’m starting to crave seeing her face at the end of the day, or night, depending on where I need to be.
Taking her back to Floor Four at Deconstructed is on my mind all the time, but she’s not ready. I know she’s still processing her response to the fire play. I caught her staring at a candle in one of the big lamps on the terrace outside our bedroom. Her expression was perplexed as if trying to understand how she could have enjoyed something so intense. It was probably more advanced play than she had been ready for, but she handled it so beautifully.
“Marietta might be my favorite person in the universe right now,” she said one morning as we were showering together. I’d specifically had the shower custom-built because I wanted it to be huge, with plenty of room and copper shower heads high up on the blue-tiled wall for one very large person and more at normal heights for smaller women. Not that there would be more than one woman in this shower ever again.
“I thought my dick was your favorite?” I pretended to look hurt, making her laugh.
“Your dick is my favorite body part,” she clarified, “but even your magical penis can’t intercept Claire Thorne and make her stop talking and listen the way Marietta can. So far, I haven’t even had to speak to my mother.”
I’m slowly washing her chest, enjoying the white of the soap suds against her lightly tanned skin. “I do see your point,” I said.
“Also, you have been washing my left breast for so long that my right one is getting jealous,” she pointed out.
“Well, we can’t have that,” I said, ignoring her startled yelp as I instantly hoisted her up on the tiled bench, so her breasts are at eye level and I can squeeze them both, enjoying how her stiff pink nipples slide between my fingers, and I pull on them. Not gently. Her fingers slide into my hair as she moans, her nails scratching against my skin lightly.
Both our phones ring at the same time and we groan together. “We will continue this conversation later,” I promise, squeezing the girls one last time. “It’s a crime to leavequesti seni meravigliosi,these pretty breasts alone.”
“They’ll be here when you get back,” she said, laughing slightly as she leaves the room to find her phone.
I grab mine, heading back into the bathroom for more privacy. It’s Carlo.
“Bad news, Boss. Not only did we not get that tri-state contract renewal for the trucking company, two of our warehouses burned down last night.”
“Was anyone hurt?” I’m instantly furious.
“A couple of the night guys suffered smoke inhalation, one went to the hospital,” he said.
“Make sure all his medical bills are paid,” I said. “The contract failure sounds like Senator Asshole Thorne trying to flex some muscle. But the warehouse arson is too thuggish for him.”
“I don’t know,” he sighed, “but the timing is certainly suspicious.”
“I’m on my way to the office,” I said, “have a couple of working theories ready for me by then.”
