His pace increases, the bed frame creaking beneath us. His hands are everywhere—gripping my hips, squeezing my breasts, sliding up to pin my wrists above my head. The weight of him pressing me into the mattress feels like salvation.
"My," he grunts, each thrust punctuating the words, "Rosetti. Wife."
The possessiveness in his voice should bother me, but it only makes me wetter, my body responding to his claim in ways my brain can't process. My third orgasm builds fast, coiling tight at the base of my spine.
"Close," I gasp, my back arching off the bed. "Nico, I'm so close."
"Look at me when you come," he demands, his voice rough with need. "I want to see your eyes when I make you mine."
Our gazes lock, and something electric passes between us. Not just lust but something deeper, more terrifying. His hand slips between our bodies, thumb finding my clit, pressing and circling in perfect time with his thrusts.
I shatter completely, screaming his name as my pussy clenches around him. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, so intense I think I might actually pass out. Through it all, I keep my eyes on his, letting him see every second of my surrender.
"Fuck, Marisol," he groans, his rhythm faltering as my walls pulse around him. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come."
His thrusts become erratic, desperate. I can feel him swelling inside me, getting impossibly harder. His breathing changes, becomes ragged. The veins in his neck stand out, his jaw clenched tight.
"Come inside me," I whisper against his ear, biting the lobe gently. "Let me feel it. Let me watch you lose control."
He makes a sound—half growl, half sob—his whole body tensing above me. For a moment, he looks terrified, like he's standing at the edge of a cliff. I reach up, cup his face in my hands.
"Stay with me," I remind him. "Don't hide from me now."
Something breaks in his expression. His eyes lock with mine, wide and vulnerable and scared. Then he's coming, his cock pulsing deep inside me, filling me with his release. His face—God, his face in this moment is everything I wanted. No walls, no barriers, just pure, unfiltered pleasure and vulnerability.
"Marisol," he gasps as he empties himself completely.
He collapses on top of me, his weight a delicious pressure, his cock still twitching inside me. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as he shakes through the aftershocks. His heart hammers against mine, our skin slick with sweat, our breathing synchronized.
For long minutes, we stay like that, connected in every way possible. His face is buried in my neck, and I feel the wetness of sweat there. Or maybe tears.
"Don't move," I whisper, holding him against me. "Not yet."
"Wasn't planning to," he admits against my neck. "I can't feel my legs."
I laugh, the movement making us both groan as oversensitive parts shift. "The tactical banana finally exhausted?"
"You broke me," he says softly.
Eventually he shifts, rolling to his side but keeping me tucked against him. Then, impossibly, I fall asleep.
17 - Nico
My tongue finds her clit at exactly six in the morning.
I know because my body clock is military precise. Eight years of deployment, four years since, and I still wake at dawn ready for violence. Except now I'm using that precision to circle Marisol Delgado's swollen clit with my tongue, feeling her body respond even in sleep.
She tastes like last night. Like us, my cum inside her, like the desperate claiming that should have emptied me but only made me want more. My cock is already rock hard against the mattress, has been since I woke twenty minutes ago with her pressed against me, one leg thrown over mine, her pussy wet against my thigh.
Twenty minutes of lying still, breathing in her scent, fighting the urge to wake her. Twenty minutes of watching pink dawn light paint her skin gold, of counting her breaths, of realizing I've never actually slept next to someone until morning. Always left before dawn. Always maintained distance.
She asked me to stay, and I'm learning that when Marisol asks, I give her everything.
She shifts slightly, a soft moan escaping as I drag my tongue through her folds, gathering her wetness. Still mostly asleep but responding. Her thighs fall open wider. The movement makes my cock throb, another bead of precum leaking onto her champagne silk sheets.
I should let her sleep. She's exhausted from last night, when I lost every shred of control and fucked her like I was trying tocrawl inside her skin. Her pussy is probably sore from how many times I made her come, how hard I claimed her.
Instead, I shift lower in the bed, my arms pillowing her thighs apart. I slide two fingers inside her, coaxing her gently open. She’s so fucking wet already, the pulse of it almost immediate, her body recognizing me with a kind of bone-deep trust that should scare the shit out of me. My mouth works her slowly, tongue tracing the shape of her clit, circling, then flicking with just enough purpose that her hips rise, seeking friction.
