It’s a dangerous kind of contentment, the kind that makes me realize just how much power she suddenly has over me. One night in my bed, one night of letting me inside her, and already I feel addicted.
She shifts beneath me, her skin slick with sweat, her face glowing in the soft light. When I roll to the side, pulling her with me, she snuggles close without hesitation, like she belongs there, her cheek nestled against my chest. Like it’s natural.
Her voice is soft, tentative. “Did you… like it?”
I huff a laugh, the closest thing to a smile that I can manage in this moment. “Yeah.”
Just one curt word. Typical me. But the truth is, I don’t even have the words for what I felt. I’ve never been good at talking, explaining, sharing emotions. All I know is that it was better than good—and I want it again.
Thankfully, Evi seems satisfied with my answer, and a peaceful silence settles between us. Her delicate hand drifts across my chest, her fingertips tracing light, aimless patterns over my skin, following the lines of my tattoos. It’s innocent, gentle, but Christ, it does something to me. The longer she does it, the more my body responds, heat simmering low and dangerous all over again. My cock, still heavy from the first round, stirs at her touch like it’s been waiting for permission.
Grabbing her wrist, I still her hand against me. “Enough,” I growl, my voice low, roughened with warning.
Her head lifts from my shoulder, her wide eyes meeting mine in the dim light. “Sorry. I just find your tattoos fascinating. You didn’t like it?”
I smirk despite myself and shake my head. “I liked it a little too much. If you don’t stop, I’ll take you again.”
Her lips part, and for a second I wonder if she’ll pull away. But instead, a small smile curves her full mouth. Excitement sparks behind her eyes, and her gaze flicks down to my quickly growing erection. She doesn’t say the words, but the temptation in her face is answer enough for me.
Something inside me snaps.
With a growl, I roll on top of Evi, pinning her wrists above her head, my body caging hers completely. She squeals—a startled, delighted sound—and it only makes the fire roar higher in my blood.
“You think that’s funny?” I murmur against her lips, already hard again as I pin her down with my hips, pressing into her warmth.
She squirms beneath me, her laughter breathless, her smile dazzling in a way that makes my chest tighten. “Maybe a little.”
“Cute,” I mutter, kissing her hard, swallowing her giggles, turning them into gasps as my mouth claims hers.
And as I press between her warm, wet folds, her laughter dies into a sultry moan. God, she’s positively dripping from the aftermath of our first time, and though she’s still almost painfully tight, I slide easily inside her.
Her body arches beneath mine, eager, welcoming, and I know this night is far from over. The heat between us cranks back to ten, molten and consuming, and as I press her deeper into the sheets, thrusting until I’m buried to the hilt in her glorious pussy, I realize I’ve never wanted anything more than I want her.
I’ll never get enough. But that won’t stop me from trying.
Tonight is going to be a long, hot night.
10
EVI
Sunlight, too bright and warm, spills across the unfamiliar walls of the bedroom as I lazily open my eyes. God, I’m exhausted, and for a moment, I don’t remember where I am. The haze of sleep clings to me like a heavy fog. But as I take in the dark gray paint and the rich mahogany furniture of Sandro’s suite, it all comes back in a rush—the wedding, the vows, the blood on Sandro’s hands and clothes when he walked through the door last night.
Then… everything that came after.
Heat rushes up my neck, and I bury my face in my pillow to hide the wave of embarrassment that threatens to swallow me whole—even as my lips split into a wide, unstoppable smile. Last night was undoubtedly the single best night of my life.
My entire body is sore, aching in ways I’ve never known before. My thighs burn, my hips feel bruised, and there’s a throbbing between my legs that’s entirely too tender. A I love every aching pulse because it reminds me of Sandro.
I roll onto my back with a groan, stretching stiffly as I stare up at the ceiling. My new husband has an appetite unlikeanything I could’ve imagined. He was relentless, insatiable, and yet controlled, as if keeping himself in check every moment he touched me. The thought of seeing Sandro unbridled sends a shiver down my spine. I’m not sure my body could handle it.
Even with his restraint, he took me again and again, until I thought I couldn’t possibly endure more pleasure—then he pushed me further still.
It should terrify me—the complete lack of control I had in our bed last night. But instead, I find myself smiling like a fool. I never imagined sex could be like that. I never realized it could make me feel so alive, so connected to someone I hardly know.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I turn my head toward the clock on the bedside table. It’s ten in the morning. My eyes widen, and I sit up too quickly, instantly regretting the motion as my muscles protest. I never sleep in this late. But when I do the math, I realize I’ve barely gotten five hours of sleep. That would explain it. I stayed up nearly until dawn, tangled with Sandro in ways that still make me flush just thinking about it.
The bed beside me is empty, the sheets already cool. There’s no sign of Sandro, and my stomach twists.Did he sleep at all?Knowing what little I do about him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t. He seems like the sort of man who thrives on constant motion, like stillness itself would suffocate him.
