Page 62 of This Thing of Ours

“I’m gonna need the words, cara mia.”

Her hands found his back, running along the warm skin. She smiled. “I’m okay.”

He pulled out slowly and then back in. “I’ll take it nice and slow.”

His forehead fell to hers, and he moaned as if the words he just spoke pained him.

“I promise, Marco, it doesn’t hurt. It feels full, but it’s not unpleasant.”

He pulled out then slid back in. “You’re so fucking tight. Squeezing my dick. Fuck, it feels good.”

Out. In. A little faster that time. A little harder.

She felt a small spark ignite. Each thrust in, he hit something. She moved her hips, chasing the feeling.

Out. In. Faster. Harder.

She planted her feet. Her fingers clutched his back. Something was building. Stronger than the last time.

Her breathing picked up speed. Little pants in Marco’s ear while his face was buried in her neck.

Out. In. Faster. So much faster.

Gasping, she held on to him and bucked into his movements. All finesse was lost for them both. Marco’s back was slick with sweat, making it hard for her to hang on, so she wrapped her arms around his neck. His teeth were on her neck, biting down as he surged into her.

Their bodies rocking, she wrapped her legs around his thighs, encouraging the beat of his pelvis against her clit. He was enticing her by panting dirty words into her ear. Telling her how hot her pussy was. How tight. How fucking good it felt. How his cock wanted to stay inside her and never leave.

His words. His gravelly whispers. She didn’t stand a chance, and soon she was coming—soaring and falling at once—until she crashed back down to earth, high on an endorphin rush.

Then Marco stilled above her.

Head thrown back, neck bared, he groaned her name.

It was an image she’d never forget.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Marco listened toGabriella sleep—her gentle inhales and exhales. Felt them, too. The warm puffs of air softly hitting his chest. She was cradled in his arms, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder, one of her legs thrown over his thighs, one arm hugging his stomach.

He listened to her sleep because he couldn’t. He was too busy savoring the moment. How many times had he envisioned her so? Too many to count. He’d just never thought it would become a reality.

He stroked a hand over her shoulder, down her upper arm and back up again. Her skin was so soft, like rose petals and smelled just as sweet.

She was finally his, belonged to him fully, his to keep safe, and he took that responsibility seriously. No one would ever take her, harm her, ormarkher again.

He closed his eyes and relived the moment he slid into her, blocking the image of her being abused. Trying to block the anger from the pain and humiliation she must have felt. And trying to block his hunger to find and destroy the fuckers responsible.

So, instead, he thought of her pussy and how it encased him like a warm, wet glove. He’d never felt anything like it. Fucking ecstasy wrapped in bliss. Marco hated that he’d hurt her. Next time she would share in the ecstasy with him. That was a promise, and he never broke a promise. Ever.

He hadn’t used protection. Honest to God, hadn’t thought about it until after. A bad move on his part, but in his defense, his mind hadn’t been on practicalities. It’d been solely focused on Gabriella and how fucking badly he’d wanted to make love with her. He was clean, he wasn’t worried about that, but he didn’t know whether she was on birth control, and she’d fallen asleep before he could ask. Something they’d need to talk about. Not that he opposed starting a family, he just thought it would be best if they were married first.

And he would marry her, soon. Though, he supposed he should take her on their third date before he asked. He wondered if he could get through it without fucking it up. He grinned at the ceiling.

Probably not.

“I still don’tsee why we couldn’t stop on the way here,” Gabriella complained from her position in the corner of the hospital elevator.

“And like I said when you asked me to stop, I won’t be a party to Vincenzo’s slow death.”

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