“Yeah,” she admitted.
“Thank the fucking Lord,” I pressed out.
She rolled her eyes with a small laugh then she became serious once more. “I just worried that it would make you respect me less.”
I scoffed. “You sucking me dry won’t make me respect you less, trust me. Or do you respect me less when I lick your pussy?”
“That’s different, you’re a man.”
I pulled her face close. “I respect you more than any other woman, and that won’t change, Gem. You can kick ass, bake like a top chef and now all that’s missing is you giving me head like a fucking goddess and I’ll build you an altar and worship you.”
“You’re such an idiot!” she gasped out, but she leaned into me and softened. “How was I?”
I pulled back. “Now you want praise or honest criticism?”
“Honesty.”
“I’d give you a solid B-minus.”
Her eyes widened in indignation. “B-minus?”
“We’ll practice until you’re a straight A-plus, don’t worry.”
She punched my arm. “You’re too full of yourself.”
I leaned back, taking her with me. “You need to ride me into shape.” Lifting my hips, I dug my still hard cock into her butt cheeks.
I helped Gemma out of her clothes then showed her just how much I respected her by eating her out before she finally settled on top of me. She looked magnificent straddling my hips. I ran my hands up her abs before I cupped her breasts. For a moment, she stared down at the bull that had a prime view of her beautiful pussy then she began moving her hips, slowly at first, figuring out the best way to give herself pleasure as I lay still and enjoyed the view.
Finally, she settled into a slow, sensual ride that felt like paradise. She met my eyes, biting her lip under my unwavering attention. I started to thrust up into her and grabbed her ass to keep her steady. Gemma had no trouble keeping up with the faster pace. Her stomach flexed with every twist of her hips and the sight alone was enough to bring me to my knees. That woman was perfection, and I’d show her that I knew exactly how much of a lucky bastard I was for having her as my girl.
I couldn’t find my engagement ring anywhere. Usually, I left it on the nightstand with my wedding ring because I couldn’t sleep with jewelry, but now it was gone. It wasn’t as if I loved it for its beauty. Its design had been an affront to my eyes from the first moment I saw it, but it had an emotional value. Mainly I still got angry when I saw it because it didn’t really reflect a declaration of love from Savio, but I’d gotten used to it. We’d been married for almost two months now, so I felt naked without it on my finger.
I was crawling on all fours, checking under the bed when a whistle sounded.
“That ass owns my heart.”
I tossed a glare over my shoulder. “That ass could use your help…” Savio didn’t wait for me to finish. He was behind me, grinding against me, within a blink. He nibbled on my neck while I giggled. “Savio, that’s not what I meant. I need to find my engagement ring. It must have rolled off the nightstand. Help me find it!”
“That’s no fun,” he growled, and I gave in. After a quickie on the ground, I scanned the floor again. “What if I lost it?”
“That would break my heart,” Savio said with fake severity.
I sighed, feeling bad. “I left it on the nightstand last night, I’m sure.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll turn up when you least expect it.”
“Or it’ll end in the vacuum and be forever lost.”
“Admit it, you wouldn’t be sad to see it gone.”
“It’s my engagement ring.”
Savio shrugged, his head propped up on his crossed arms like he owned the world.
I’d searched the rest of our wing, the kitchen and the common area by the next day, but the ring remained gone. After a week, I actually considered asking Savio if he could ask the goldsmith to recreate the expensive atrocity.
When I came down into our living room that evening for our weekly night of watching fights, I froze on the last step. Savio had dressed up in a black tuxedo that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow hips, white dress shirt and bowtie. I was in my usual evening attire, low cut sweats, and a tight T-shirt. “Did I miss something important?” I asked worriedly. What if we were invited to some sort of Camorra gala and I had forgotten? Savio probably found it funny to give me a heart attack like that.
“Do you know what today is?”
I blinked, trying to remember. It wasn’t our wedding anniversary, and not the anniversary of our engagement either. No birthday either.
Savio’s cocky smile widened. “Nothing?” He came closer slowly. “Tomorrow we’ll be married for six weeks. That’s not what I mean, of course.”