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“The…” He frowns as he tries to remember the name of it. “The used-to-being-loved song.”
“Huh?” I try to think back.
“Something about used to being someone you loved.”
“Oh.” I smile. “‘Someone You Love’ by Lewis Capaldi.”
“The sad song about a girl leaving her man.”
“I remember. Although I think it’s more about death.”
His face falls. “Well, I hope you never get to play it.”
I giggle and rise up on my toes to kiss him. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For being my lover… and becoming my best friend.”
He stops moving. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“What?” I frown. “Why?”
“Anybody can fall in love.” His eyes search mine. “But it takes a lot to be someone’s best friend.”
We begin to sway to the beat again, which, by the way, has now gone down in the history books as my favorite song ever. “Take me home, lover.”
“Maybe we should just get married tonight?”
“Find somewhere and we will.”
He chuckles, steps back, and tugs on my hand. “Don’t tempt me. Home time.”
________
He lifts my dress over my head, tosses it aside, and his lips dust my neck. We are back at the apartment in Roma—the one where we spent our first weekend together in.
His wife. Mrs. Ferrara.
Suddenly, I’m desperate. Desperate to have him naked. I tear his shirt over his shoulders and throw it to the side. He gives me a slow, sexy smile and holds his hands out wide. “I’m all yours, my love.”
“Literally.” I undo his jeans and slide them down his legs to reveal his perfectly thick cock that’s hanging heavily between his legs. Thick veins run down the length of it.
He is one beautiful man.
Mine.
Unable to help it, and with a new sense of urgency, I drop to the floor in front of him and take him in my mouth.
This is it. This man and this body will be mine for life.
He hisses as he strokes my hair. “Yes, bella,” he whispers darkly.
I keep going and going, and then he drags me to my feet and throws me on the bed. He moves over me, and in one swift motion, he slides in deep.
“Ah,” he hisses. “I love you, Olivia.” His dark eyes are locked on mine, and his hands trace my face, as if he’s memorizing every inch. His knees are wide to give him traction, and I lift my legs higher around his body, encasing his perfection.
“I want you deep,” I moan. God, I don’t think he can get deep enough today. I want every inch of him.
