Page 85 of Borrowed Bride

Using his teeth, he slides the now damp fabric aside, and his tongue strokes against my pussy with firm determination that sends curls of pleasure spiraling through my body.

He’s right. It’s a damn good distraction. Suddenly, all the nerves fade as the space inside me is filled with warmth. Each lap of his tongue covers my entire pussy and he adjusts the pressure back and forth, teasing over my clit and back toward my hole. Without anything to hold on to, I slide one hand against the wall and the other cradles the back of his covered head, doing everything I can not to grip the lace despite how I crave something to hold on to.

Marco moans deeply and the sound vibrates against me, sending a sudden burst of pleasure through my gut. I whimper, biting my lip and distantly realizing I’ll have to reapply mylipstick. As pleasure builds inside me like a knot forming in my core, Marco presses closer and pushes me up the wall slightly until I’m sitting directly on his face. This new angle allows his tongue to delve inside of me, and as much as I clench my thighs against the curling pleasure, I’m at his mercy. I don’t have the leverage to grind against him, nor do I have the strength with the five-month bump keeping me unbalanced.

But Marco is strong and I trust him. He keeps me up, and I finally close my eyes, giving in to the pleasure with a louder moan. Wave upon wave of heat washes over me, sending a flurry of tingles up and down my arms. My abdomen clenches, I sink my teeth into my tongue, and I focus my mind’s eye on how deep his tongue reaches inside me and how each outward stroke ends with lengthy attention paid to my clit. Then he slides back inside.

My orgasm hits with the force of a freight train as all that nervous energy builds inside me and releases with the cascade of pleasure Marco pulls from me. I cry out, sobbing behind my fingers as I twitch, whimper and rock in his arms. Marco doesn’t move, continuing to lavish me with attention until I’m limp. Only then does he pull back, adjust my underwear, and return to face me.

“Better?” Marco asks, cradling my slightly damp face.

I close my eyes and nod, nuzzling into his palm. “You gonna do that every time I’m nervous?”

“Can do.” He kisses the tip of my nose, then he crouches and kisses my bump. “I’ll be waiting for you. I love you.”

He leaves with a wink, and I have to peel myself off the wall. He’s right, my orgasm did make me feel better and my running thoughts are kept at bay through the sheer adoration I feel for that man. Taking a look at my slightly frazzled face in the mirror, I reach for the lipstick just as a familiar musical march drifts through under the door.

It’s time.

36

MARCO

I’m getting married.

It’s not a joke or for show this time. It’s real.

With Gianna’s sweetness lingering on my tongue, I hurry to the hotel staging area, where Anton stands at the end of the aisle as my best man, with Ben beside him. They both look slightly worried until they lock eyes with me, and all thoughts of me vanishing disappear from their faces.

“Was worried for a second, boss,” Anton hisses softly as he grabs me by the lapels of my jacket and begins adjusting my tie.

“Did you really think I’d run?”

“Nah,” replies Ben. “Thought someone made it through Leonardo’s security and had run off with you.”

“I’d be impressed,” I reply softly, tilting my head up as Anton resituates the tie knot. “Leo’s got this place locked down like crazy.”

And I’m eternally grateful. It’s hard to believe that my once nemesis is who I am relying on to keep my wedding safe and secure from prying eyes and old grudges. The man himself sits in the front row right next to an iPad showing Emilia who flashes me a proud smile the moment our eyes meet. I’d been againsther attending purely for her own health but with the wonder of technology, she’s here in spirit.

I know Gianna would have said yes to getting married in Emilia’s room if I’d asked, but it was Emilia’s planning that got us this beautiful hotel in the first place.

Then the music starts and my heart leaps up into my throat, pounding like a drum just beneath my collarbone. I only saw Gianna maybe ten minutes ago and suddenly I’m nervous again, like something will have changed in those few minutes. I cast an eye around the hall, taking in everyone we trusted enough to invite. There are a few guards of course, and a few of Leo’s men who dealt with the victims we found at the docks, along with the stand-in head of the Barrone family. All people vetted and trusted to carry on my legacy and witness my union.

The music swells and Tara appears in a pink dress, holding on to Freya’s hand as they walk down the aisle. Every few feet, Freya tosses out some petals from the basket hanging from her little arm, and emotions threaten to overwhelm me. My daughter. These past few months with her have beenincredible, learning everything about her. Gianna did a phenomenal job raising her in captivity and now that she has a sibling on the way, Freya has really started to come out of her shell.

“Daddy!” she yells when she spots me, earning laughter from the surrounding people. She waves at me with a fist full of petals and Tara smiles warmly, then guides her toward the bride’s section to sit down. Given Gianna’s lack of family, it’s only right.

Cherry and Fawn are next, flowing down the aisle in beautiful dresses. Cherry wears the same pink as Tara, while Fawn is dressed in green. Gianna asked her to be the maid of honor to thank her for everything she did to keep her and Freya safe. It was a fitting choice.

It may be the first time I saw a real, genuine smile on Fawn’s face.

They take their place at the opposite side of the aisle to me, and then my fiancée appears and she is an absolute vision.

She’s wearing a glittering veil that covers her face and is adorned with sparkling petals that catch the light as she slowly walks down the aisle. With no one to give her away, Gianna insisted on walking herself and she does so with her head held high. I admire every inch of her, from the delicate nature of her curves enhanced by her dress down to the bump of our unborn child, then down to where the dress pools around her like liquid silk.

Tears sting in my eyes as I clasp one hand against my opposite wrist, trying to control the tidal wave of emotion that threatens to sweep me away. I want to laugh, I want to cry and yell my love from the rooftops until the entire city knows exactly who I am and every detail of why I love this woman.

She finally stops opposite me and through the netting of her veil, I catch the cheeky glint of her eyes.

---