Page 50 of Her UnBearable Protector

She had no real knowledge of how this would work, but she felt the freedom to try and when she paused, her gaze trailing over his body, she heard Salvatore’s voice deep and heavy in her ear. “Put a hand on my chest,” his words weren’t a command, but a suggestion and she followed it willingly, “lift your hips, just an inch.”

Natale complied and kept her eyes on his.

“Push back, Natale, take a breath and push back.”

Balanced on her hand she did as he asked and bit down on her lip as she felt the tip of his erection slip between her folds. Her muscles contracted over him and she heard Salvatore bite back a curse, almost laughing at the mix of Italian and English, understanding the frustration behind those muttered words. She felt it too. Felt it aching within her.

She pushed further, enjoying every inch as she took him deep into her body, her breaths panting from her lips.

His compliance lasted, something she had to give him credit for. Up until now, Salvatore had been the one to take the initiative, but as she felt the hard muscles of his thighs press against the cushion of her backside, she let out a long, satisfied sigh. It always felt good when he was inside of her, but at that angle, his body spread beneath hers like a living, breathing, sculpture of perfection, she found herself on the verge.

And he took her over. Sitting up, Salvatore wrapped an arm around her waist to anchor her against his chest as she wound an arm around his neck and held on. The sensations rolled through her body, pulsing around him as he murmured into her ear. When the shocks began to settle, instead of finding her body tired, she only wanted more. She wanted him to mark her, claim her, and she knew it was going to happen.

She probably should have been afraid, but she’d made her decision.

She took his face in her hands and leaned in, fed her passion from his mouth, ate the very breath from his lungs, and when her motion pressed her clit against the base of his rock-hard length, she swallowed his moan.

They kissed, each of them fighting for dominance and then giving it back in turn.

His hands, splayed over the swell of her hips, didn’t hold her still before him. He became her guide, let her move within the frame of his hands as he surged into her again and again.

Natale knew he was holding back, saw the pinch of the muscles at the corners of his eyes, saw the sweat beading on his skin. She knew he was holding back for her and it only made her love him even more.

She realized how blessed she was. For years she believed that love wasn’t for her. Knowing that the men who caught her eye were blind where she was concerned had trained her not to hope, not to dream. How strange that a threat against her life had ended in such joy.

She was done hiding from love, done feeling insignificant and empty. Done waiting for things to happen to her. She was going to take charge of her life, just as she’d taken charge of the line at Durante.

“Salvatore,” she started to speak and felt the shock of his thrust vibrate through her and robbed her of her breath. She clung to him, struggling to regain some control, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

Then again, nothing was ever easy when you wanted it, needed it, as much as she needed him.

So, without words, she decided to show him what she wanted. She set her hands on his shoulders and pulled him forward. The movement created all kinds of friction between them and they both shared a groan, leaning into the sensation, but she didn’t stop there. Natale put her mouth on his neck, sliding her lips up toward his ear, nipping at the shell with her teeth before she made the journey back down, finding the pulse of blood through the strong column of his neck.

She wanted to take a bite of him and she did, closing her mouth over the base of his neck she sank her teeth into his skin.

Natale heard his voice, knew he said something, but she couldn’t tell if it was in Italian or English and didn’t care. Salvatore’s carefully cultivated control had been lost and she reveled in the feeling as the rush of her own heartbeat pulsed through her ears.

Tasting the salt of his sweat on her tongue, she knew she hadn’t broken his skin, but that wasn’t the point. She’d shown him what she wanted.

What she needed.

And when she leaned back to meet his eyes, the pebbled tips of her breasts were teased by the crisp scratch of his hair. Her eyes slid closed for a moment before she fought them back open again. Wondering who she would see in his eyes. She knew what it must have cost him to fight down his bear, to have some measure of reason over need. Staring back at her was the love she had only dreamed of.

Natale found herself drowning in his eyes, a shifting mix of man and beast showing her love and desire, and in the dark depths of his soul, she found the promise of forever. All she had to do was fall.

Turning her head toward her shoulder she felt the stretch of her skin, thinning the barrier in an open invitation.

He didn’t wait long.

Salvatore stood, one hand anchoring her against him as she gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist. A few strides and he had her against a wall, his legs braced beneath her.

Her eyes widened and she forced down the question that was on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t have to ask him if he could hold her there, she knew by the muscles she’d had the pleasure of exploring with her eyes and hands that he was strong enough to hold her securely against the wall.

She felt the first eager stroke strike a tender spot within her, she leaned her head back against the wall to watch his face. His expression was set, determined, driven. His gaze fell to her breasts, his breathing ragged. A muscle ticked in his jaw a moment before his tongue swept over his lips.

His thrusting hips went deep and she gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. Pressed between his body and the wall, she was well and truly secure, but even with the constriction, she’d never felt so free.

At this angle and with Salvatore’s determination to drive her over the edge, she reached the precipice in minutes. She didn’t fight it. Instead, Natale felt as though she’d flung herself into oblivion. Her breath caught in her lungs, the world seemed to disappear beneath her, and yet she was safe, anchored to Salvatore. He filled her with his own release and closed his mouth over her shoulder.

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