“You’re going to come with me this time,” he growls, his rhythm faltering slightly, betraying his own approaching climax. “I want to feel you squeeze me when I fill you up.”
This time when I fall, I’m not alone. Raffaele’s hips stutter, his powerful body going rigid above me. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he buries himself to the hilt, and I feel the hot pulse of his release deep inside me.
“Mine,” he growls through clenched teeth. “All fucking mine.”
“Yes,” I agree on a moan. “All yours, Raffaele. Always.”
For several long moments, we remain locked together, both panting, sweat-slicked skin cooling in the air of the library. When he finally eases out of me, I feel the warm trickle of his seed following, escaping down my thigh.
Before I can move, his fingers are there, scooping up the fluid and pushing it back inside me with gentle but insistent pressure.
“I want all my cum inside this beautiful cunt,” he says, his voice low and possessive. “Not a drop wasted.”
My cheeks burn at his words, but I can’t deny how much I want that too.
“I can’t wait to see you pregnant, Mogliettina,” he continues, his fingers still working between my thighs, ensuring his seed stays deep within me. “Your belly swollen with my child, your breasts heavy with milk.” His eyes meet mine, dark with possession. “Soon.”
When I try to sit up, his palm presses firmly against my sternum, keeping me pinned to the rug.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, a dangerous edge to his smile. “Stay there. I’m not done with you yet.”
Chapter 34
Raffaele
Warmth radiates against my chest as sunlight filters through the library windows, casting golden patterns across Alina’s naked body curled against mine.
The blanket I pulled over us sometime during the night barely covers her hip, revealing the curve of her ass and the pale expanse of her back. Possessiveness surges through me, hot and demanding. I trace my fingertips down her spine, feeling her stir beneath my touch.
“Mhmm,” she murmurs, stretching against me like a cat seeking warmth. Her eyes flutter open, blue and hazy with sleep. “Good morning, husband.”
“Good morning, wife,” I reply, my voice rough from sleep and the hours spent growling her name last night. I cup her cheek, thumb brushing across her lower lip. “How do you feel? Sore?”
She shifts, a slight wince crossing her features before melting into a shy smile. “A little. But I like it.” A blush spreads across her cheeks. “It reminds me of… everything.”
I can’t help the satisfied smirk that forms on my face. Good. I want her to feel me between her thighs all day, to carry the reminder of who she belongs to now. Who claimed her.
“Thank you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my palm.
“For what?”
“For the perfect wedding. The perfect wedding night.” Her eyes sparkle with something new—confidence, maybe. Or just the knowledge that she survived her first time and found pleasure in it.
My smirk widens as I slide my hand down her side, feeling her shiver under my touch. “If you liked last night, just wait until I get you to our destination.”
“Destination?” Her eyebrows furrow. “Wait, are you taking me to the bakery today?”
Chuckling, I glance toward the window, judging the time by the angle of the sun. “We need to get moving, or we’ll miss our plane.”
“Plane?” She bolts upright, the blanket falling away to expose her perfect tits. “What are you talking about?”
“Our honeymoon, Mogliettina.” I reach up to cup one breast, thumb circling her nipple until it hardens. “Did you think I’d marry you and not take you somewhere special?”
“Honeymoon?” The word comes out as a squeal. Before I can react, she’s straddling me, her warm core pressed against my rapidly hardening cock. “Where are we going? When did you plan this? What should I pack?”
She peppers me with questions, but all I can focus on is the press of her soft thighs around my hips, the bounce of her breasts as she gestures excitedly, the way her hair falls in wild tangles around her face.
Fuck, she’s beautiful like this—animated, excited, mine.
