A whimper left my mouth as he sucked on my pulse, purposely leaving the mark of his vow, while his hands did exactly what he said they would—study all my lines. Wherever he touched, my skin puckered.
His mouth kissed a path even further down, to my breasts, where he marked those too. I could barely stand it. His exploring mouth. His memorizing hands. He was all over me at once, and I was almost squirming, close to begging for…friction. For him to be inside of me.
“Stai fermo, mio cuore che batte,” he whispered, but my body listened as if it were a command.Be still, my beating heart.
I stilled, all the love and desire flooding my system overflowing from my eyes. My mouth was sighing out in pleasure while my hands were balling, trying to keep it all in. The pulse between my legs refused to quit. It beat for him—the only part of me he couldn’t silence, because he had turned it on, and it refused to turn off.
This.
This was exactly why my body hesitated earlier to leave our reception. I wanted the memories of celebrating our wedding, but…this. This claim. It was marking me past bone and marrow. It was as if he was speaking to all that made me…me, and he was claiming it as if it were his own long-lost treasure.
When his mouth came to my heart, he whispered one word, “Mine,” and then hit his chest so hard with his fist, the sound echoed inside of the cavernous room before his fingers started to explore again.
Moving the gold chain he’d given me with the lion’s heart pendant to the side, he sucked over my heart the longest and hardest, and I knew come morning, between my breasts, the blood would rise to the surface and look like a bruise, but it would be a mark of his love. A brand.
He moved even lower, his mouth over my womb, my legs parting a second before his finger slipped inside of me.
I cried out, my hips ready to push into the sudden contact. But I needed more. More of him. All of him. Stretching me. Touching me so deep, it made it hard to catch my breath.Him.Not giving me an ounce of room to hide, to pull away, to move.
“My home,” he whispered, his mouth controlling in which direction my blood went.
To the surface.
To him.
To his heart.
He slipped his finger in and out, the sweet smell of desire floating in the air around us. His nostrils flared, scentingit in the air, breathing it in and holding it in his lungs, then releasing it like smoke from a drug that had the power to get him high.
“All of me,” he rasped out. “All of me is a physical vow to you,my wife.Your lines have become mine. I have memorized them in the memories of my heart. When we grow, or do not, we grow together, or we do not.”
I whimpered at the loss of contact when he removed his finger, but he didn’t make me wait long. He used his tongue to seal his vows, from one end of my body to my mouth, and when he took my mouth in a commanding kiss, pulling my soul the rest of the way out, he entered me to the hilt. I cried out, and he groaned. Our vibrations met and created a song that was ours alone.
“My love,” he barely got out, his mouth pressed against mine. “My heart.” He groaned, and it was such a deep sound from the hollows of his chest. “That is it. Move with me. Give yourself to me. All of you. All of you.” He drank down the noises coming from my chest as if he’d found a well inside of me, and he could taste all that I had to nourish him.
All that I am, I give to you, and all that I have, I share with you… the promises of our vows seemed to echo inside of the room with us just like the noises we were making as we made love for the first time as husband and wife.
I had no idea it could be this way—as intense as a battle, as soothing as a warm hug.
My promise to him released something inside of me, and a feeling rushed up my chest and came out of my mouth in a low mewl that seemed to linger around us.
All that I was, I was giving to him.
All that he was, he was giving to me.
Our bodies were honoring.
Sealing vows between his heart and mine.
“Ahh,” I whimpered when he touched a spot deep inside of me that made the pulse between my legs increase in tempo.
He repeated what he’d just done, pulling out and comingback, and before I could make the same sound, he covered my mouth with his own, like he loved the taste of the sweet noise I’d made and demanded I make it again.
“Rocco,” I cried, my nails raking his chest. “Rocco.”
His eyes were barely open, but I could feel the fire in his eyes on my skin, and he shook his head. “I only answer to the name you have given me when we are this way.” He stopped moving.
Stopped.
