"Lorenzo, you just?—"
"I know." He's already hard again, pressing insistently. "But you're still wearing the dress. And I made you a promise about what I'd do to you in it."
His mouth finds mine, hungry and demanding. Through the kiss, I feel him smile.
"Besides," he says against my lips, "we have all night. And I plan to ruin this dress completely before I'm done with you."
Lorenzo
I press Sophia harder against the wall, her wedding dress crushed between us. The sight of her—lips swollen, hair coming undone from its elaborate style—makes something primal roar in my chest.
"You have no idea what you do to me." I grip her thighs tighter, adjusting the angle until she gasps. "Walking down that aisle today. Looking like a fucking angel."
Her nails dig into my shoulders through my tux jacket.
She's so tight, so wet, so perfectly mine. Every movement makes the dress rustle, silk whispering against the wall. Her heels dig into my back, those expensive white shoes I insisted she keep on.
"Look at me." I fist my hand in her hair, forcing her eyes to mine. "I want to see your face when you come on your husband's cock."
The word 'husband' makes her clench around me. Christ, she's going to kill me. This twenty-year-old virgin who threw bread at my face now has me completely fucking destroyed.
"Please." She rolls her hips, seeking friction. "I need?—"
"I know what you need." I shift my grip, one hand sliding between us to find her clit. "You need me to fuck you until you can't walk. Until everyone at tomorrow's reception knows exactly what I did to my bride."
Her head falls back against the wall. I attack her exposed throat, sucking hard enough to leave marks. Let everyone see. Let them know she's mine.
"That's it, tesoro." My thumb circles her clit as I drive deeper. "Take it. Take everything I give you."
She's close. I can feel it in how her thighs tremble, how her breathing goes ragged. My perfect wife, coming apart in my arms while still wearing white.
"You're mine now." The words come out rough, desperate. "Legally. Completely. No one can take you from me."
Not Francesco. Not Daniil. Not even Luna's ghost can touch what we have.
"Yours." Sophia's eyes lock on mine, honey-brown gone dark with need. "Always yours."
The conviction in her voice breaks something inside me. I crash my mouth to hers, kissing her like I'm drowning and she's air. My hips snap forward brutally, chasing her pleasure and my own.
"Come for me." I bite her lower lip. "Come for your husband."
She shatters with a scream I barely muffle with my palm. Her whole body convulses, clenching around me so tight I see stars. The sight of her—my wife, my Sophia, destroyed by pleasure in her wedding dress—pushes me over the edge.
"Fuck." I bury my face in her neck as I come, pumping into her with desperate thrusts. "Sophia. Christ, Sophia."
We stay pressed against the wall, both shaking. Her dress is completely ruined, wrinkled and bunched around her waist. Mascara smudges under her eyes. Her lips are swollen from my kisses.
She's never looked more beautiful.
"Can we move to the bed now?" Her voice is hoarse.
"No." I'm already hardening inside her again. The benefit of waiting twelve years to feel something real—my body can't get enough. "I told you. We're not leaving this wall until I've had you every way I've imagined."
"Every way?" She raises an eyebrow, looking more confident now. My shy virgin bride learning her power.
"Every. Fucking. Way." I pull out just to slam back in, making her gasp. "Against the wall. On your knees. Bent over the dresser. That dress isn't coming off until I've marked every inch of you."
Her eyes darken with interest rather than fear. My perfect match. My dangerous girl.
