He was back. He didn’t abandon me. He came back for me.
I ran outside, my violin and bow still in my hand. I sprang to one of the beach chairs and pretended I’d been playing there all along. I wanted him to see me the first thing so he wouldn’t just go inside the house and ignore me.
But when he landed, he still did exactly that, went inside and ignored me.
I dragged my pathetic sorry ass inside and headed upstairs forourroom. Apparently, my dignity was taking a vacation.
He was taking off his shoes when I entered. I went to sit next to him on the bed, but he rose and went straight to the bathroom. Then I heard the water running.
Without thinking, I left the violin on the bed and entered the bathroom. Steam had gathered in the shower as water cascaded on him, on his beautiful curls and beard, on his tattoos and muscles, on his cock that jerked a little when he saw me.
He rolled his eyes and gave me his back. His marvelous ass.
I’d been denying myself the pleasure of enjoying his sexy body. Not anymore. If I had no choice but to be his, he was mine, too.
I stripped and walked into the shower with him, holding him from behind. “Did you miss me?”
He gazed at me over his shoulder, and I stared at his lips, the need to remind myself of his taste dominant. “When I miss you, you’ll know,” he said.
My hand slid down his hip and onto his pelvis until I filled my fist with his cock. “You mean when you shove this big cock inside my pussy and use me for your pleasure whenever you want?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he blinked once. “Yeah.”
I stroked him. “What about when I miss you?”
He blinked again, his chest rising with a deep breath. “I thought you hated me.”
“I thought you could tell when I was lying.”
He twisted and slammed me against the wall, his grip on my neck. “What the fuck do you want?”
“You know what I want. You’ve always known what I wanted before I did,” I rasped.
“You want me to punish you.”
“I wantyou, Don Bellomo.”
His swat didn’t hit my ass this time. It landed on my pussy. I bit a moan, the sting arousing as fuck. He did it again while choking me. I could come just like that. But I was greedy. I wanted more. Much more.
“I’m not on my period anymore.”
“Cazzo.” He let out a primitive sound, squeezing me harder, two fingers plunging inside me. “How many times have you touched yourself while I was gone?” he asked.
“Every day,” I confessed. I’d gotten used to getting it daily from him, and then he cut me off cold turkey. It was unfair. “You?” I moaned with the pleasure his fingers dragged from me.
A hint of a smirk touched his mouth. “I never cheated on you, Angel.” He understood my intentions perfectly. I was driving myself crazy thinking he’d be having sex all the time he was gone and wanted to know if he did. “Not once. Not since you were sixteen.”
The revelation was perverted yet so sexy. He hadn’t had sex with a woman for two years because of me. “Does that mean you’re mine, too? Only mine?”
A smirk manifested on his lips before, abruptly, he gripped my waist, pushed me up, hooked my legs around his back and pushed his heavy erection inside me. “Does that answer your question?”
“No,” I teased.
He swatted my pussy again, and I hissed. Then he started pounding me. “How about now?”
I was coherent enough to shake my head.
“Liar,” he whispered, and his pounding became harder, more punishing. He was ruthlessly driving me higher and higher until I was screaming, my nails raking down his back as release hovered just beyond my reach.
