Page 70 of Twisted Vows

“You looked like a Viking goddess, Emma. I wanted nothing more than to bury my face between your thighs and let you ride me to my death.”

“That would have defeated the entire purpose, though.”

Embarrassment heats my cheeks as I hear my breathy voice bounce off the tiles.

“So, you admit you killed him for me?”

The intensity shining from his eyes drops the floor out from under me. I nod.

“Mio Dio, kiss me before I decide to taste more than just your lips,” he snarls.

Although I close the distance between our mouths, he takes over the moment our lips touch, licking and stroking in a rhythm as old as time and dominating me so thoroughly my brain leaks out of my toes. When he pulls back, I grab his shoulders, avoiding the deep purple bruise on his right side, and rise onto tiptoes.

“You might be okay with just one taste, but I’m not,” I whisper against his lips before dropping to my knees and tugging his shorts down. His massive cock springs free and bobsagainst my forehead. I push him back by his hips and wrap my fist around the base of his shaft.

He growls, cups the base of my skull, snags our towels off the rack, and tosses them down, demanding I kneel on them. Awe and wonder soar through me, and as soon as I shove the towels underneath my shins, I thank him with a teasing kiss on his flange. His thighs bunch and his hand tightens in my hair.

I meet his eyes and brush my closed lips over his sensitive tip just to enjoy his reaction. His cock jerks in my grip as molten desire shines from his rich brown orbs. I smirk and add my other hand around his base before pulling away so my breath ghosts over him.

“Let me go,” I whisper.

His expression darkens, but before he can respond with his normalnever, I tilt my head, indicating his hand in my hair, and offer him a look full of every wicked thought and yearning I possess.

“We wouldn’t want you to pop your stitches, would we?” I say.

His eyes widen as I quirk a brow suggestively.

He returns my lascivious stare through half-lidded eyes, and when he smirks, molten lava pulses low in my abdomen. He twists his wrist, pulling my hair, and caresses my jaw with his thumb.

“Don’t tease me,mia caramellina, unless you want to spend all day writhing on my tongue.”

In the boldest, sexiest move of my life, I run the flat of my tongue along the underside of his shaft before sneaking a flick through his slit and humming at his salty, musky taste. He drops his head back and curses.

“Fuck, Emma, what are you doing to me? Give me more,amore mio. Give me everything.” I swirl my tongue around his flange. “Mio Dio, more,” he demands.

Despite the tension coiling through him, he allows me a few minutes to tease and explore his cock, but when I take him into my mouth and swallow, he snarls and loses control. I stack my fists, but he still chokes me with every thrust.

I relish his unraveling. He makes me feel understood and cherished. On my knees with his cock in my mouth, I experience a power I thought could only exist in fiction.

My shirt chafes my hard nipples and liquid desire floods my panties as he loses his rhythm and spurts his release against the back of my throat. I swallow every drop and rub my thighs together, desperate for more friction on my clit.

My husband gentles his hands in my hair and strokes his fingers over my scalp until I curl my tongue around the underside of his cock. He hisses and yanks his hips away before bending down and tossing me over his shoulder. I yelp as his hard muscles dig into my belly. Stars burst along the edges of my vision. It hurts. At my strangled sound, he slips me off his shoulder and cradles me to his chest.

I wriggle and check his bandages for signs of blood, but he drops his lips to my temple and murmurs an apology as he tucks his cock into his shorts and opens the bathroom door.

Katherine stands wide-eyed at the end of the hall with a clean change of clothes draped over her shoulder, her phone in one hand, and her travel hygiene bag in the other. Mortification thickens my tongue as she studies my face.

She slaps her palms over her ears and clenches her eyes closed.

“Dannazione, I know I’m an adult, but how about youdon’tflaunt your sexcapades around the apartment while I’m here? I’m glad you’re happy, but holy hell, that’smia sorellayou’re tossing around half naked,” she says.

Without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and stomps back toward her room, but the small smile tilting her lipsas she shuts her door soothes the turmoil in my soul. She’s not mad. If anything, she’s relieved and happy.

Fiero strides into our bedroom, kicks the door shut, and locks it before pinning me across the mattress with his bulk.

“If she’s smart, she’ll wear headphones, because nothing will stop me from feasting on you now,” he murmurs against my lips.

Alternating between teasingly gentle and painfully rough, he uses his mouth and hands to bring me to orgasm so many times I lose count, and when he finally sinks his cock into my pussy, I sob at the perfect stretch and fly apart before he’s fully seated.

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