It makes something bloom deep inside me, something fragile and dangerously close to… hope. Maybe I’ll never be able to give Sandro children. Maybe I’m doomed to fail him in the one way that truly counts. But tonight, in this moment, it feels like none of that matters.
Tonight, I feel wanted, desired, connected.
And this one time, I want to grant myself permission to feel worthy of love.
9
SANDRO
I’ve had sex before. Enough to know it never meant anything more than friction between two bodies, a release of tension, something to take the edge off when fighting didn’t cut it. But this—with Evi—is something else entirely.
The second I sank into her, I knew I was ruined.
She’s tight, impossibly so, the kind of tightness that makes my jaw clench and every muscle in my body scream to drive in hard, to take what’s mine without restraint. But I can’t. Not with her. Not this time.
Not when her eyes were just wide, shimmering with uncertainty, her lips parting on a soft gasp of half pain, half awe as I pressed inside her for the first time. I could feel her, frightened and tense beneath me. Then, when her body finally yielded, when she started to relax, the sweetness of that surrender nearly undid me.
I’ve never felt something so glorious as Evi falling apart around me. The sweet sounds she makes as she unravels in my arms. I had to stop if I wanted to make this first time last. And the feelof her pussy rippling along my length, urging me deeper into her depths is enough to drive me mad with lust.
But when I look at her beautiful face, the wonder I find there steals my breath away. She’s intoxicating, so perfectly innocent that I can read every first of hers that I’m claiming. It’s written in the flush of her cheeks, the soft parting of her lips as her striking gold-flecked eyes look up at me like she’s seen God.
“Good girl,” I breathe, praising her for coming on my cock so easily, and her eyes darken, her pupils flying wide as her walls clench around my rock-hard length.
It would seem my sweet little virgin has a praise kink.
God, she’s perfect.
It takes everything in me to go slow, to hold back the brutal edge that’s been wired into me. I force myself to breathe through the fire coursing through my veins, to focus not on my own hunger but on her body, her reactions—the way her nails bite into my shoulders, the way her thighs tremble but don’t push me away, the way her breath stutters, catching on each shallow exhale.
I grit my teeth, sweat beading at my temple, fighting the instinct to lose control. “You’re taking me so well,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I mean for it to be.
Evi nods, her eyes fluttering shut when I lean in to steal a kiss as I start to rock inside her once more. Something about her is dangerously enticing. It’s not just that she’s a virgin. It’s that she’s mine. My wife. I’m the first and only man who will ever touch her. That thought brands me with a kind of possessive heat I didn’t know I was capable of. It sears deeper than any tattoo or scar.
I move slowly, deliberately, and when she moans—a soft, broken sound that vibrates straight through me—I realize this isn’t just sex. This is something else entirely.
I start to test Evi’s responses, shifting angles, grinding deeper. And when I find the spot that makes her back arch, her breasts pressing into my chest, her hips rolling into me, I feel a surge of triumph that’s better than any victory in the pit.
“Sandro!”
Evi gasps my name like a prayer, and I swear it casts a spell, her voice bewitching me, body and soul. This is better than having blood on my fists or violence in my veins. I could stay like this, buried inside my wife forever.
The moment she breaks apart beneath me, her body clenching, trembling, surrendering completely, I nearly lose it myself. Feeling her come around me—tight and wet and pulsing with raw pleasure—is the single most euphoric sensation I’ve ever experienced. But even her second climax isn’t enough to satisfy me.
I want to feel it again. Ineedto feel it again.
So I slow down, pull back, tease her with shallow thrusts and kisses that drag her closer, closer, until she’s writhing beneath me, begging me with whispered pleas that I doubt she even realizes she’s saying.
And when I push her over the edge a third time, her moan breaking high and sharp, I swear I feel her pleasure in my own bones. It becomes an obsession—drawing the ecstasy from her, watching her unravel.
Each climax is a masterpiece, and I’m the only one who gets to paint it across her body.
Her eyelashes flutter as her eyes roll into the back of her head. Her lips tremble as they part with each gasp. Her thighs tighten around me, her fingers pressing into the muscles of my back. Her nails biting into my flesh only increases the pleasure—every one of her reactions feeds a hunger in me I never knew existed.
By the time I finally let myself go, spilling inside her with a guttural sound, I can’t hold back any longer. My entire body feels wrung out, drained—but in the best way. Panting as I throb in time with her climax, I watch in fascination as Evi falls apart with me. She shudders, her body giving one last burst of pleasure before her muscles relax entirely, leaving her soft and supple beneath me.
My forehead drops to hers, our breaths mingling, our bodies still tangled together. And for the first time in years—maybe ever—I feel peace.
Not numb. Not distracted. Not raging. Just a bone-deep calm.
