Page 78 of Lorenzo's Claim

The man didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my dress up to allow him the access he needed. “Is there a reason my wife decided against panties today?” he asked, his breath warm against my already sensitive clit.

"I think that's enough questions," I said, my voice carrying a playful yet commanding tone. "Now, be a good boy, and make your wife come." His response was immediate—a deep, guttural groan that vibrated against my pussy, a clear indication that my words had struck a chord with him, sparking a mix of anticipation and eagerness.

His mouth closed over my clit, alternating between rough and gentle sucks. The first moan escaped me. “Fuck…”

My fingers gripped his hair with an urgency that bordered on desperation as I pulled him closer. I ground my hips against him, consumed by an insatiable hunger for more. Lorenzo's mouth was an exquisite instrument of precision, every lick, suck, and nip expertly executed, igniting a fire within me that made my body throb with an overwhelming need.

His fingers entered me, curling with precision to hit the spot that sent shockwaves through my body. As his fingers relentlessly worked their magic, his thumb found my clit, rubbing with a tantalising rhythm that drove me to the brink of ecstasy.

“Lorenzo… I-I—” I panted, my body tightening like a coiled spring.

He growled fiercely against my core, a sound vibrating with raw, primal desire. His fingers drove into me with relentless intensity, each thrust stoking the inferno of pleasure that surged through me with unprecedented speed. My breathing becameragged, each gasp a desperate attempt to keep pace with the overwhelming sensations consuming me.

“Come for me,” he whispered. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

I gripped the edge of the seat as he sucked on my clit, his fingers continuing to curl inside of me, as my moans filled the cabin.

Fuck… The things this man can do with his mouth were out of this damn world.

My orgasm exploded through me, a radiant burst of light igniting behind my eyelids as I squeezed them shut. "God, yes," I moaned, surrendering to his touch as he claimed every ounce of my being. "Fuck!" I cried out, my voice trembling with the sheer force of pleasure that spiralled beyond my grasp. My body arched upward, lifting off the seat, as I clutched his hair with trembling fingers, anchoring him in place while I rode the unrelenting waves of pure bliss.

“You taste so good,” he murmured as he slowly removed his fingers.

His hands glided softly over my thighs, leaving a trail of warmth as he placed tender, deliberate kisses on my skin. Each gentle touch seemed to melt away the tension in my muscles, and my breathing gradually steadied, returning to its natural rhythm. Our eyes locked, and a warm, contented smile spread across my face.

“Kiss me, wife,” he said. “See how good you taste.”

I leaned forward, brushing a gentle kiss against his lips, feeling the softness that invited me closer. The kiss deepened as his tongue slipped past my parted lips, a wave of sensation washed over me as I tasted the unmistakable tang of my own arousal on his tongue, just as he had requested. It was a mix of thrill and vulnerability, a moment that felt both intimate and electric.

My fingers delicately traced the intricate tattoos inked across his chest, their dark designs peeking out provocatively from beneath the fabric of his shirt. As he deepened our kiss, his lips moving with a passionate intensity, he skilfully manoeuvred us without breaking contact. With a seamless motion, he guided me onto his seat, and I nestled comfortably onto his lap, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping me.

“I’m pretty sure we can’t sit like this the whole way.” I giggled as he rested his forehead on mine.

“And I’m pretty sure we can.” He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, and a warm smile spread across his face.

“Will you tell me where we’re going now?” I asked, hoping to coax the secret from him.

“Sicily. We’re going to Sicily.”

The secondI stepped out of the car, the warmth of the late morning sun seeped into my skin. The air was thick with the scent of citrus and salt, a reminder that I was closer to the sea than I had ever been. Lorenzo appeared beside me, his presence tall and commanding. He hid his eyes behind dark sunglasses, and his hair was tousled from the gentle breeze. He took my hand, gripping it firmly as he led me up the steps to the house.

“Welcome to our home, my beautiful wife,” he said, his voice deep and laced with happiness. “I bought it for you. For us. Think of it as a belated wedding gift.”

He bought us a house? And not just any house, but a breathtakingly gorgeous one perched off the sun-drenched coast of Sicily. I couldn’t wrap my head around how he could go fromwanting to kill me one minute to treating me like the queen of his world the next? Maybe he never truly hated me at all. Maybe he just wanted me to believe he did.

“Lorenzo, that’s too much—” I began to protest, but he interrupted me with a smile that sent a gentle rush through my veins.

"Nothing is too much," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief and his smile turning more playful by the second. The air seemed to hum with excitement as he added, "Now, let me carry you over the threshold. It's tradition, after all." His voice was warm and inviting, a hint of laughter in his tone, as he leaned forward, ready to sweep me off my feet.

And that’s exactly what he did. With an effortless motion, he swept me into his arms, his strength undeniable as he cradled me securely against his broad chest. I couldn't help but giggle, a light, playful sound escaping my lips, as he carried me over the threshold of our second home. The scent of pine and fresh paint welcomed us as we crossed the doorway. "You're a little late with this tradition, aren't you?" I teased, as my fingers gently threaded through his soft, tousled hair, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath.

“It’s better late than never,” he replied as he set me down on the floor as I took in the sights around me.

The soft, cotton-coloured walls were beautifully adorned with an array of hand-painted pictures, each brushstroke capturing a unique story. Golden sunlight streamed generously through the large, arched windows, casting mesmerising patterns on the polished stone floors. Plush sofas surrounded an intricately carved coffee table, and I could already imagine the evenings sitting there, watching the sunset through the windows. My heart swelled with a mixture of awe and gratitude, overwhelmed by the beauty and serenity that enveloped me..

“I’m going to grab the luggage from the car and take it upstairs. You head up and get some rest or take a look around. Whatever you want.”

He kissed my cheek and headed back out to the car, leaving me to explore the upstairs until he joined me. I made my way up the winding staircase, wandering the corridor until I reached the master bedroom. Like downstairs, the walls were a soft cotton colour. Instead of sofas littering the space, a four-poster bed, draped in sheer white fabric, graced the middle of the room. I padded over to the window that overlooked the beach and our private pool. When I opened it, the cool breeze kissed my skin with promise. The view was breathtaking, and I already knew I’d lose myself here.

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