Page 50 of Beautiful Vows

I chuckle. “Are you always going to call me ‘wife’ now?”

“Or Mamma. I don’t know which I prefer yet. Mamma … Wife… Lover. Or maybe my Queen.” He kisses my belly while circling my hard nipple with his thumb.

I suck in a breath as a shiver of desire runs down my spine when he reaches between my thighs. My legs are open, ready for him, and I have to stop my hips from trying to get what I want.

I feel so needy.

My hands reach for his hair, fingers twisting as he sweeps his tongue through my folds, only stopping to circle the tip over my clit.

As he runs his tongue up and down my center, I release a groan of primal sounding pleasure. And when he slides a finger inside me as his lips latch on my clit, I groan, arching my back to get more of his thick finger … more of his wicked tongue… more of his hot mouth… more of him.

“I need to feel your cock inside me,” I whimper.

He sucks on my clit as he shoves another finger deep inside me, curls it, and stars are all I see.

My heart hammers against my chest and my blood pounds in my ears.

I’m euphoric as I convulse against his mouth. And I can’t stop my climax as it rips through me like a tornado, crying out his name over and over.

My legs are still trembling when I beg him to stop.

“Good girl,” he presses a kiss against my center before he crawls up my body and kisses me on my lips, letting me taste myself.

Once upon a time I’d find that embarrassing—now I love it.

Dante presses his hands on the mattress and pushes himself back and rests on his heels. The look he gives me is wild and dangerous. But I ignore it as my eyes slowly roam from his to where he fists his thick, veiny cock in his hand.

“That’s mine,” I say.

“Everything’s yours, wife.” His lips turn upward. He leans forward and lines his massive cock against my entrance. “I’m all yours. Only yours.” And with a thrust, he slams his dick deep inside me.

I want to say something sassy, but my words are stuck in the back of my throat. His cock has rendered me speechless. Of course, I remember every inch of his glorious dick, but this seems different. We feel different.

He covers me. My breasts tingle against his hard chest.

Our lips meet in a torrid kiss. When he pulls away, his gaze never leaves mine as he snaps his hips back and forth.

“You feel so fucking good.” It comes out harsh as my nails dig into the hard planes of his back.

“Don’t stop.” I breathe.

He thrusts again. Over and over, as I whimper underneath him. And then he slips out.

I’m about to scream, but he flips me over, pulls me up onto my hands and knees, and thrusts his thick cock into me.

Then I scream.

“Dimmi cosa vuo?” he leans over my body and whispers in my ear.

I laugh. “Sempre te, marito mio.”

“You speak Italian?” he says, surprise laces his tone.

“My father brought me up speaking Italian and English.”

He chuckles. “I should’ve known. And l love you calling me your husband.”

His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips as he pounds into me from behind. I love it. I can’t get enough of this man.

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