“You’re so wet, little dancer. I’m going to drink you down like a fine whiskey.” I lick out, tasting.
My fat tongue traces up her folds, flicking over her sensitive clit before licking, biting, and kissing up her torso. I caress my tongue over her marks. Reaching her nipple, I take it between my teeth, applying a little pressure then licking.
The toy still vibrates in my hand. I dance it across her other nipple, her juices dampening the puckered bud. Moving my mouth there, I suck the scent from her skin. My cock lining up with her greedy hole, I push inside her, teasing her with a couple inches.
She tries bucking her hips to force me deeper, but her restraints prevent her.
“I’m going to kill you for this,” she cries.
“Not if I kill you first,” I tease, pistoling my hips to the hilt, filling her up, stealing her breath.
I wrap my hand around her throat, applying pressure. Fucking her rough and hard, I knock the headboard against the wall. My other hand fists her hair, forcing her face to me as I power into her, her cunt squeezing my cock, her body jerking as she runs out of air.
I release the pressure, and she gasps for air. Her body shudders under me, her scream of release music to my ears, sending me over the edge.
Water pours down on us as Alyssa lathers me in soap. “The wedding is going to be in two days,” I inform her, her hands slowing their movements.
“That soon?” she murmurs.
“Are you having second thoughts?” I’m a bastard who will keep her even if she says yes.
“I just wanted something different when I proposed the wedding. Something has changed inside me now.”
I push her against the tiled wall, taking in my finger marks on her neck. She’s like a painting, new brush strokes every time we touch.
“I’ll give you whatever it is you want. I’ve already made arrangements to pay off your family farm’s debt. If Swan is what you want, I’ll give you it. If you trust me, I’ll give you the world.”
Her breathing becomes heavy as my hands slide down her body. “What if I wanted to work at Vino’s still?”
“You were fired from Vino’s,” I tease, lifting her body and lowering her onto my cock. She winces, slowing my movements. “Are you sore?”
“Blissfully so. Don’t stop.” She kisses my bottom lip, lowering her hips until she’s seated on me.
“I could be manager,” she croons, tilting her head back, allowing me access to her neck. I suck her there, lapping her flesh.
“We have a manager.”
“Co-manager.” She does this tilt thing with her hips and clenches her core muscles. Sliding up my shaft, she rotates on the tip of my cock. It’s sensational and nearly makes me come the second she does it.
Willing my mind to think of other things to make me last, I say, “How about owner?”
All those businesses will go into her name once we’re married.
“Owner?” She moans. “I like that.” She twists her hips, and my cock fills her womb.
Lying in bed, I have breakfast brought to the room. I don’t want to leave this room today. “Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I tell her.
A shadow passes over her face, haunted for a second before it passes. “I’m double jointed.” She pops a grape into her mouth, making a show of bursting it between her teeth.
“Aren’t all ballerinas?”
“Tell me something about you.” She forks a piece of mango and holds it out to me in offering.
“Apparently my mother had an affair with Marcello’s father.” Her mouth drops open.
“Luca, does Marcello know?”
Shaking my head, I swig from a glass of orange juice. “I didn’t know until recently. It’s not something I want him to know.
“You love him.”
“He’s my brother, more so than Antonio. He’s been a loyal friend and a worthy number two.”
“Why are you both single?” She studies me like there must be something wrong with us.
“I’m not single,” I jerk my chin to the ring on her finger. “And Marcello lost the woman he loved. Annemarie was it for him. What he will never understand or know is that she loved my stupid brother. Fuck knows why. If anything should ever happen to me, he will take care of you, marry you.”
“Inherit me?” She chuckles, her brow crinkling.
“Antonio doesn’t deserve you, so yes.” She waves me off like it’s comical. Maybe it is.
“Antonio seems immature compared to you and Marcello.”
I don’t think I’ve ever spoken so openly with someone in my life, not even Marcello. She brings me a sense of peace and freedom I’ve never had before.
“Antonio never had to grow up. He had everything done for him, given to him—even his wife. He took her death hard, blames a lot of his idiocy on me. He’ll grow out of it.”