The song ends. Massimo releases her, and I don’t wait another second. I set my glass down and walk straight onto the dance floor.
Eleonora meets me halfway, slipping into my arms. I pull her close, one hand on her waist, the other threading through her fingers.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Better now,” I murmur against her temple.
“My father wanted another dance,” she says.
“It's a good thing I saved you then.”
She tilts her head, giving me that look I love. “Did I need saving, or did you just want me to yourself?”
I smirk, leaning down to brush my mouth against her ear. “Glad you know me so well Mrs. Lombardi.”
For the past week, she decided we needed to be “celibate” until the wedding night. Some tradition about purity or waiting or whatever the hell she called it. I didn’t understand it then and I still don’t. But I agreed because I love her, and whatever she wants, she gets.
It’s been a week of pure torture. No waking up with her warm body pressed against mine. No falling asleep buried inside her. No touching her the way I crave.
Seven days of hell. I’ve been hard and frustrated and counting down every single hour.
Now she’s my wife. And I’m done waiting.
I take her hand and start leading her off the dance floor. She laughs, tugging lightly. “Nico, the song hasn't even ended.”
“Fuck the song we're leaving.”
“We haven’t cut the cake yet?—”
“Fuck the cake,” I growl, pulling her faster.
She’s still laughing as I lift her into my arms and carry her toward the private elevator that leads up to the bridal suite. Her arms wrap around my neck, her face buried against my shoulder as guests watch us with knowing smiles, some laughing and cheering.
The second the elevator doors close, I’m on her.
My mouth crashes down on hers, hungry and desperate. She moans into the kiss, fingers threading through my hair as I press her against the wall.
The ride up feels endless. By the time we reach the suite, I’m already rock hard and aching for her.
I kick the door shut behind us and set her down just long enough to unzip her wedding dress. It pools at her feet in a whisper of white silk, revealing what she’s wearing underneath.
Fuck me.
She’s in pure white lace lingerie, a delicate corset-style bra that pushes her breasts up beautifully, matching panties, and a garter belt with sheer stockings clipped to it. She looks like sin and heaven wrapped in one.
I groan, drinking in the sight of her. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this. Never.”
I drop to my knees, hook my fingers into the garter, and slowly pull it down her leg with my teeth. She shivers, hands in my hair. I kiss my way up her thigh, then bury my face between her legs, licking her through the lace until she’s moaning and trembling.
“Nico… we should go back down…”
I pull her panties aside and drag my tongue through her soaked folds. “They can wait.”
I devour her. Licking, sucking, fucking her with my tongue until her legs shake and she’s crying out my name.
Only then do I stand up, unzip my trousers, and free my aching cock.
I don’t even fully undress. I lift her, wrap her legs around my waist, and thrust into her in one deep stroke.
