Lifting my head, I rub Elena softly while watching her face closely.
Her lips part, her cheeks flush, and then she nods. “Yes. Like that.”
My eyes are locked on hers as I move my hand up, and pulling the waistband back, I push my hand under the fabric. As my fingers brush over Elena’s soft curls, I place my other hand behind her head.
I spread her open, and a growl ripples from me as I touch her clit. Her hands fall to my chest, and she grabs hold of my shirt, fisting it tightly. Her eyes clouded with desire. Her lips parted and begging for my tongue
“I’m going to fuck you tonight.” The words rumble from my chest as I increase the pressure on her clit, rubbing her hard. I tug at her lips with my teeth. “I’m going to bury myself deep inside you.” She moans against my mouth, her grip on me tightening, her hips beginning to match my rhythm.
We’re lost in our own bubble of desire, standing on the cliff, with only the Mediterranean sea and nature as witnesses to the moment when I make my wife orgasm.
“Lucian,” she gasps, her features tightening with need.
I tease Elena’s opening, and it makes her lift on her tiptoes. She presses her face against my neck, her fingers gripping my shirt to the point I think she might tear it right from my body. “Dio.” Her breaths become sharp, and then I push my finger inside her, savoring how fucking tight she feels.
My cock strains. I fucking ache. Torture has never been this sweet as Elena trembles in my hold. Her body stiffens, and then her gasps and moans create a symphony I’ll never forget as she comes apart.
Her mouth finds mine, and I inhale her breaths and taste her moans. I greedily devour every single one as she rides out her orgasm.
Chapter 24
ELENA
I’m unable to think.
Unable to speak.
My body’s been possessed by Lucian. My insides quiver as I’m overcome with pleasure, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
I gasp, moans the only sound I can make while he touches me like I’ve never been touched before.
I experience a level of intimacy with Lucian I haven’t had before.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs into my mouth. “So goddamn beautiful.”
There’s no shame. There’s no guilt.
I feel beautiful in his arms. Treasured. Loved.
I come down from the heavens he took me to. Lucian pulls his hand away, and then he sucks my release from his finger, making residual tingles of pleasure ripple through me. Framing my face, his mouth adores mine, causing emotion to burst in my chest.
I find my worth in his love.
Lucian senses the emotions crashing over me, and he pulls back to lock his gaze with mine.
I see the woman I am in his eyes.
I now understand how two souls can become one because without me having to say anything, Lucian wipes the tears from my cheeks. “My love for you runs deeper than the bottomless pits of hell because that’s how far I will go to find you if you’re ever taken from me.” He kisses me tenderly. “Do you understand what you mean to me? How precious you are, amore mio?”
I nod, bathing in his words, reveling in his love. “Angelo mio,” I whisper because that’s what Lucian is to me – my angel.
Our mouths meet again, and we kiss for what feels like hours. A breeze from the ocean plays around us. The crashing waves against the rocks below are the only sounds we hear.
Until Aunt Ursula calls, “Where are you? It’s time to eat!”
Lucian releases me with a chuckle. “Coming,” he shouts so she’ll hear him, then he shakes his head at me. “You bewitch me, my wife.”
“I think it’s the other way around,” I laugh as we walk back toward the house. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, drawing me to his side. “Careful of your wound,” I say as I try to pull back.
“I’m fine,” Lucian mutters, tugging me back to him.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I argue.
“Stubborn woman,” he playfully grumbles as we take the steps up to the veranda.
“You made me this way,” I tease him.
“Mmh… seems I’m doing a good job.”
“You are.” We glance at each other as we walk into the living room, and then Lucian pulls me closer for one last kiss before he leaves me so he can go to the guest restroom.
I join Aunt Ursula in the kitchen and glance over the feast she’s prepared. Pasta with mussels and cream. Bruschetta. Antipasti chopped salad, the salami making my mouth water.
“Wow, it looks delicious,” I praise her.
“Today, we celebrate life,” she says, seemingly back to her usual high-spirited demeanor.
I help her carry the food to the dining room, and when we’re ready to eat, Lucian comes to take a seat at the head of the table. He holds our hands and says a prayer of thanks, and then I pick up his plate and load it with food.