The full-length mirror in our villa in Lucca was much different from the full-length mirror in my bedroom in the Quarter. It had ornate gold scrolling and probably cost enough to buy a car with.
Still the same, though…
…was the reflection staring back at me. My eyes, my body, even down to the color of my hair and the length of it. I’d always worn it long for as far back as I could remember. The warm brown color cascaded down my shoulders, and what was left of my tan from summer was fading into a more natural olive tone. I went with simple makeup to highlight my hazel eyes and features.
The jewelry my husband constantly gifted me with caught and glinted in the soft candlelight. Especially the diamonds on my left hand, ring finger.
My husband stepped behind me, fixing his custom-made tuxedo. I’d left it out for him to dress in, and after a shower, he came to me looking like a dream. He always did. He was much taller than me, towering over me, but instead of being intimidated, I relaxed into his safe arms as soon as he’d wrapped them around me. And even though his tux cost more than triple what my dress did, the colors complemented each other.
His scent danced with mine, the fig with floral scent, and his hair was done in a dapper style—cut shorter on the sides, like the rest of his brothers, but his was more neatly done. The front waved to the back, and it perfectly showcased his strong bone structure.
Rocco naturally had eyes that always made him seem like he was in a romantic mood, but when he looked at me, it was as if he was seeing something he never had before. It was more than just a look. It translated into feeling.
It was the moment right before a man kisses his woman for the first time—for the last time.
His sea-green eyes shimmered in the soft light, and I had a hard time looking away from his luscious lips. They were in high contrast to the rest of him—soft enough to feel amazing against mine, firm enough that I felt him down to my soul, but more pliable than his body.
My eyes could find him a million times, but each time, it felt like I was transported back to the moment I was able to truly study him.
My eyes rose even higher. He had a strong chin, a pronounced jaw, and an extremely angular face. His skin was taut over every strong bone, giving his face so much dimension. He had a prominent nasal bridge, but his nose was narrow and sharp. He had dark, heavy eyebrows over those hypnotizing sea-green eyes. The color seemed like it was taken straightfrom the Mediterranean, maybe a sample color God had been trying out on the water before He decided to use it.
As if to keep the wildness of the sea contained, black rings encircled Rocco’s irises. His lids drooped slightly. His eyelashes were black and full. His skin was that beautiful olive color—undertones of green and gold that complimented the color of his eyes. His hair was black—the color of the night sky—but it seemed like it was made from the finest silk and silver. A few streaks of the latter color mixed in around his temples.
The overall effect of him was masculine and intense and passionate.
He was perfect.
Perfect, but with faults, which made him even more stunning in my opinion.
His tongue reached out, wetting his bottom lip, and I was instantly brought out of the moment, hypnotized again by a flood of memories rushing through not only my mind, but my body, at what his tongue could do to me.
His body?
I was convinced it had been carved out of flesh-colored marble.
His sharp nose came to my neck, breathing me in while he held me steady in front of the mirror. My waist had disappeared when his arm wrapped around me and pulled me close—he was hard,allover. My hand went straight for his left one, feeling a surge of adrenaline at the ring that glinted in the candlelight, knowing it was a symbol that meant he was all mine.
“Tell me, Amora,” he whispered against my pulse. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” I barely got out. I looked drunk too. Even my words were slurred.
He nodded once, as if that was the end of the story—the ending he’d always wanted. But we both knew there was so much more to our book.
So much more yet to come.
His hands lifted my dress, his caress warm and confident against my pebbled skin. My breath faltered out, and my eyes slowly closed. My body was ready for him, and as he kept me facing the mirror, I felt more than heard him take his cock out of his pants. He rubbed himself along my ass before he did the same between my legs.
I moaned, my body tilting forward by instinct.
Always by instinct with him.
I gasped and my hands reached out to hold his arms when he entered me in a thrust so delicious, I lost my breath. He began to move inside of me as if he was a man possessed.
Just the feel of him, and not only his cock, drove me higher and higher as he touched every sensitive nerve deep inside of me. It wasn’t his pace or how thick he was, but the sheer emotional connection we shared. It worked our bodies in tandem, and when he read the signs of my body, he ordered me to come to him, and come to him I did, as he came to me.
The moments between us weren’t wild, or rough, or even erotic, but to me, there was something wild about our attraction that couldn’t be tamed. And the more we were together, the stronger our bond was becoming. I wasn’t sure how much stronger it could get, but in this, and in love, it was.
He was tender with me, but my legs trembled and shook with the sheer power of who he was to me and what he could do to me, not only my body, but my heart. He placed a soft kiss on my shoulder, his eyes closed, his breathing even and steady.
