“Say the words,” he said. “Tell me who I am to you.”
“My husband,” I barely got out.
“Say it again.”
“Mio marito.”
“Tell me, do I serve my wife properly?” The words came out sensual, in Italian, but his voice was rough. “Tell me, does my body honor hers?”
At this, he slowed, moving in and out in a sane rhythm, only feeding the opposite feeling existing between us. His eyes weighed heavily on my face—he wanted to watch as he drove me close to the edge, just so he could refuse me the euphoric fall. He wanted the insanity in my eyes to match the madness in his. There was no doubt that I had surpassed both. That wasn’t good enough for him though.
“Yes,” I moaned out. “Yes.”
“Fucking say it,” he hissed through his teeth. Glistening drops of sweat ran down his temples and coated his skin. His hair fell around his face in black strands reflective of his nature. Dark. His muscles strained with exertion, veins swollen and snaking toward his fast pumping heart. “Tell me.”
Words were distant, foreign, and all I could understand was what his body demanded of mine. My head lolled back, and a long, moan came from my lips, until the ice sliced through the pleasure.
“Only you!” I half screamed, words garbled, when he slid out and then came back even harder, proving how much of a wild animal he could be. “I’m yours, Brando! You stubborn...please,” I cried out, begging, as if I were pleading for my life. “I belong to you,only you!” I broke, half choked. “My husband.”
Nothing else existed inside of me but him. There wasn’t an ounce of room to hide in, physically or emotionally. I was completely exposed to him—turned inside out. It wasn’t just the sheer size of him that filled me to overflow, it was justhim.
“You’re inmy soul. I can’t—” The words were cut off, my mouth unable to work. The shift between pain and pleasure stole the last breath from my lungs.
“Vieni da me ora,” he said, and then his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.Come to me now.
He released me from the cold, and I came to him, shattering into all those pieces he summoned, and he came to me, growling and filling me with his heat.
After he finished, he pulled out of me—the action felt almost violent, the loss of him a shock—and then put me down. I slid to the floor, my hair catching and pulling on the uneven ridges of the wall, collapsing in on myself.
The will to move was lost. It was still his.
He stared down at me, eyes intense enough to make me lower mine. His nostrils flared, and he was saturated with sweat. “Now we talk,” he said. Then he disappeared into our bedroom, leaving me to the frost of his wilderness, still craving his pleasure, yet too sore from the bluntness to lift a finger, his warm seed running down my legs and cool tears clinging to my cheeks.
* * *
The mirror on the armoire in our bedroom caught my reflection, and I almost jumped in shock. I resembled a woman who had endured over a thousand years, and had been taken apart by a beast during more than a few of those. Bruises were already blossoming on my thighs, not to mention the raccoon circles of mascara around my eyes, and lines of black liner streaked down my cheeks. My hair...pfft.
At least I found the sense to cover myself in a robe, which was the only decent thing about me at this point. I shifted uneasily on the soft mattress. The sharpobjecthad been close to tearing me in two. My thighs trembled, and my stomach cramped.
I glanced at Brando. He stood on the other side of the room, no shirt, just an old pair of jeans hanging from his hips. The aforementioned object was still…sharp. Quick wasn’t his usual style, no matter how intense. The man had enough virility to be bottled and sold.
“We need to talk.”
I went to lift my hand but stopped. There was not a part of me that didn’t ache. “You mentioned that.”
He became quiet, almost reflective. Finally, I faced my palm up, as if to say,this is your stage, speak on it.I had blurted all of my secrets out at Rocco’s castle.
“You were happy without me,” he said.
It took me a moment to respond. “What?”
“You didn’t miss me, Scarlett.”
Night finally arrived, bringing with it a sky full of stars and a sickle moon. The light was dim but enough that the glass shards from the previous night twinkled like diamonds.
He moved deeper into the shadows, hiding himself. He didn’t particularly like being vulnerable, though his voice belied what I knew he felt. Just that.
“I felt it. When I would leave. I felt how much you missed me, how much you wanted me to come home, how much you wanted me to stay. I missed that feeling. I assumed it had been stolen from me.”
