That thought alone sets me in motion. Like a sneaky thief, I extricate myself from my husband, planting a feather-soft kiss into his hair as I slip from the bed. I pad naked to the bathroom and attend to business, grabbing a shirt of Massimo’s from the hook on the back of the bathroom door. Like a bona fide creeper, I raise the shirt to my nose, inhaling deeply. The spicy, citrusy scent of his cologne wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I am seriously questioning my sanity as I slip out of the bedroom and head to the kitchen.
The housekeeper only comes in the afternoon to clean and iron, so I have plenty of time to get rid of the evidence from last night. My lips kick up in an uncharacteristic broad smile as I spy the trail of clothes dotted around the house.
After cleaning up, I decide to make my husband breakfast because I want to do something nice for him. Usually, Massimo is the one who cooks or we order takeout because he’s generally home before me. I want to do this and start making amends because I have been a total bitch and he has put up with my shit without much complaint.
I have a fresh pot of coffee on, the bread I made from scratch is cooling on the counter, and I’m chopping mushrooms for our omelets when he wanders into the kitchen, yawning as he drags a hand through his messy bedhead hair.
“Something smells good,” he says, smiling as he drinks in the scene.
I am momentarily stunned into silence as he walks toward me in nothing but a pair of low-slung shorts. His broad shoulders, toned chest, and ripped abs are almost too perfect. Like no man could possibly be this gorgeous. Not even the slight marks and scars on his body dim his masculine beauty.
His smile expands, and I know it pleases him that I’m blatantly ogling him without attempting to hide it. Even his arrogance is appealing although it pisses me off at times too. “I made coffee and bread,” I say, explaining the aromas as I snap out of it.
Banding his arms around me from behind, he presses his body flush against mine. He pushes my hair away from my face and buries his nose in my neck, inhaling deeply. “I wasn’t talking about the coffee or the bread,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with lust as he rubs his erection against my butt.
“Oh,” I whisper as his fingers creep under the hem of the shirt to caress the side of my bare thigh.
“I love seeing you in my shirt.” He nips at my earlobe before placing a slew of drugging kisses along my neck and my exposed shoulder. I set my knife down and push the cutting board away, leaning my head back against him as his fingers roam around to my hip. “Are you too sore,mia amata?”
I shake my head, whimpering as his fingers part my folds, and he drives one digit inside me. “Always so wet for me,” he growls as he thrusts his dick against my ass. “I love it.”
“I’m making omelets,” I weakly protest as he adds a second finger, slowly pumping them in and out of me.
“Breakfast can wait. I have something else I want to eat,” he says, lifting me effortlessly, like I weigh nothing.
I yelp as my butt hits the cold marble of the island unit.
“Shirt off,” he instructs, leveling me with fiery eyes.
I surprise myself by complying without protest. His eyes track my movements as I slowly raise his shirt up my body, pinning him with sultry eyes while I toss it aside. His eyes land briefly on the jagged, puckered skin at my hips, but like last night, he passes no comment. It’s not unusual, given my position, that I carry battle scars on my skin. If anything, the lack of visible scars is probably more of a giveaway than the small few the surgeon’s skill couldn’t smooth away.
“Fuck.” He cups his crotch, and precum stains the front of his shorts, confirming he’s as aroused as me. “Lie back on your elbows,” he says, and like a trained monkey, I obey. He spreads my thighs and stares at my most private parts. “Your pussy is manna from heaven.” Opening my folds with his thumbs, he continues to stare at the very core of me. He leans in, and the most embarrassing moan escapes my lips when his hot tongue laves up and down my slit. “I can taste myself on you,” he hums against my cunt. “I want to cover you in my cum so that’s all any man ever smells on you.”
My pussy visibly quivers at his dirty words. “You have issues,” I rasp, thrusting my hips into his face as he shoves his tongue deep inside me, before sliding it back out.
“I am crazy possessive when it comes to you. I want to kill every man who looks in your direction.”
His words light a fire inside me, and I’m practically purring with satisfaction, which is wrong on so many levels, but I can’t help how I react to him. No man has ever been possessive of me in this way, and I’m shocked when tears spring to my eyes. What is Massimo doing to me?
I wrap my legs around his shoulders and watch as he eats my pussy like it’s the only sustenance he needs. Even though I am a bit sore from last night, it doesn’t take long for me to fall apart under his skillful tongue and magic fingers.
I have barely finished climaxing when he pushes his thick, warm cock inside me, and I whimper in contentment as he fills me up fully. I cling to his shoulders as he fucks me hard on the island unit. My legs hug his back as he pivots his hips, driving into me in long slow strokes mixed with deep fast thrusts.
Our eyes do all the speaking as we fuck, and it’s wholly intimate in a way I have never experienced before. The sensations he’s coaxing from my body and my heart are strange to me, both welcome and unwelcome. Sensing I need reassurance, he kisses me passionately as he fucks me, and it’s not long before I’m coming again, clenching around his hard cock as he spills inside me.
After, we don’t move, staying locked together as we stare at one another. I sense conflict in him. Not as acute as my turmoil, but it’s there, lingering behind his adoring gaze. “Is this as confusing for you as it is for me?” I quietly ask.
He kisses me briefly before winding his hands in my hair and tipping my head back. “It is,” he admits after a few beats. “I have never experienced this with any other woman.” He pulls me in to his sweaty chest, holding me close. “It’s strange for me too but not unpleasant.” He rests his chin on my head. “I want this with you. I like this.”
“Me too,” I admit, and it’s no lie.
Slowly, he withdraws, telling me to stay put while he pulls up his shorts and races out of the kitchen. I’m still in a bit of a daze when he returns with a warm cloth to clean me up. He helps me down off the counter and redresses me in his shirt. “If I had my way, you would only wear my clothes.”
I smile at him as I roll my eyes. “I don’t see how that fits with the whole ‘I want to kill any man who looks at you’ assertion.”
“True.” He walks around me toward the coffee pot. “Put me to work,” he says when I resume chopping mushrooms.
I shake my head. “Nope. You will sit your delectable butt down. It’s a gorgeous morning. I thought we could eat on the terrace. Why don’t you take your coffee and head outside? It won’t take too long to have this ready.”
