“Christ, are you trying to kill me?” I growl, my hands gripping hold of her curvy hips.
“Do you need me to move?” she teases, her eyes sparkling.
“Fuck yes,” I groan as I thrust up, sheathing myself to the hilt inside her exquisite heat. “Fuck.” I sit up and wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly to me, chest to chest.
Mine.
Mariya wraps her arms around my neck, then purrs, “Fuck me hard, Luca.”
My mouth slams down on hers, and I begin to move while she swivels her hips, meeting me thrust for thrust. We set a punishing pace, her nails clawing at my shoulder blades.
I claim her mouth while pounding harder into her, wanting to devour her cries and moans.
She whimpers, and it has me framing her face, our bodies moving as one.
Her nails dig deeper as she whimpers again, and it only makes me increase my pace until sweat beads on the back of my neck.
I feel her clench around my cock, her pussy greedy for every inch of me. I push my hand down between us and start to rub the ever-loving shit out of clit.
“Oh God,” she whimpers. “Luca. Yes.”
Mariya cries into my mouth, and I swallow the sound as I force her to the edge where she explodes, her body convulsing and her inner walls clenching the fuck out of my cock.
She starts to sob against my lips from the intense orgasm tearing through her, and it fills my entire being with satisfaction and pride.
Only I can make Mariya orgasm. Only I will hear her cries and whimpers as I make her fall apart.
Pulling my hand from between us, I lock eyes with my wife while I fill her with deep and slow thrusts, relishing in the intimacy we’re sharing.
“Ti amo,” I breathe as I lose myself in every thrust. “So. Fucking. Much.”
Her eyes are filled with everything she feels for me as she breathes, “It’s always been you. Only you. My heart has never and will never belong to another.”
My orgasm sizzles down my spine before taking control of my body and rendering me powerless.
Mariya watches as I ride the wave out, a look of awe on her face. “You’re so hot when you come for me.”
With one last thrust, I bury myself all the way inside her, keeping her body imprisoned against mine until the last of the pleasure fades.
With Mariya’s fingers weaved through mine, we walk from stall to stall in a market where various foods and items are on display.
We sample pastries, cheeses, and meats, and Mariya purchases the weirdest shit we’ll probably never use. But I let her be, knowing she’s happiest when shopping. I’ll get a storage facility to keep everything if I have to.
One of my guards drops to the left of us, and I react, grabbing Mariya and shoving her behind a table. Marco is right behind me, pushing at my back so we’ll move faster.
“What the hell?” Mariya gasps. She takes one look at me, then her face pales. “Oh, Jesus.”
I pull the two Heckler & Kochs from my back and mutter, “Stay down, baby.”
Only then does my heart explode into a wild beat while the shock of the attack shudders through me.
People start to scream, and a shopper is shot in the head while he tries to run for cover, falling face down on the ground. The other shoppers run, some stepping on the lifeless body in their panic.
“Is it a random shooting, like back home, or do you think we’re under attack?” Mariya asks.
“He’s after us,” I breathe as I quickly glance around the table, looking for any possible positions Pavlovic could be shooting from. Just as I pull back, a bullet tears through the table cloth near the spot where I was.
“Luca!” Mariya shouts as she yanks me closer to her. “Don’t do that again! Jesus Christ!”
I pull free and, keeping my voice calm, I say, “I’ve got this, baby. You need to trust me and let me do my job.”
Mariya takes deep breaths, calming down as much as she can under the dire circumstances.
“Don’t yank me, and just stay next to me,” I order, my voice firmer so the words will register with her.
“Okay. Just be careful.”
Locking eyes with one of my soldiers, where he’s taken cover by a table opposite from ours, I shout, “Find out where the fucker is.” Turning my attention to Marco, I order, “No matter what happens, you stay with Mariya.”
“Yes, boss,” he agrees, taking a position behind my wife.
“Give me a gun,” Mariya says, her voice tight with tension.
I nod at Marco to hand her one of his guns, then ask her, “When were you last at the shooting range?”
“Last week. It’s a weekly date I have with Dad.”
Dad. No longer Uncle Alexei.
I almost grin, but then another body drops near us.