Page 26 of Broken Innocence
Addictive, too-good-to-be-real sensations.
“I can’t wait to fuck these.” Luca squeezes my breasts and pushes them together to form a deep valley and illustrate his crude meaning. “Your tits will look so pretty covered in my cum, Butterfly. Reddened from the rough slide of my cock then extra creamy from my seed.”
This man isdirty.
Filthy.
Sexy.
No one has ever spoken to me like this, and frankly, I doubted anyone ever would. I’m not the type of woman to elicit raging passion or even a moderate interest. Men ignore wallflowers like me.
At least they did.
Until Luca.
One hand continues to massage my breast, a thumb circling my nipple before flicking the tip, as another hand slides lower to dip between my thighs. Giulia packed an assortment of outfits I’d never seen before, including silky nightgowns like the lavender one a soft breeze from outdoors is currently molding to my curves. The flimsy fabric immediately clings to my wet folds with the firm, possessive clasp Luca takes of my pussy.
“Mmm… Already soaking wet for your husband?” His lips rasp over my neck to my ear, his beard scratching the sensitive skin. “Such a good girl, my sweet little wife.”
“Luca…” I’m not sure what I want to say. Don’t stop? We shouldn’t do this? My conflicting emotions threaten to give me a headache when all I really wish for is relief from the stress of the past few weeks. After all, what’s done is done. Whatever my fears going into this marriage, they didn’t put a stop to it.
For better or worse, I’m married to Luca—my stalker, my protector.
Do I really want to keep fighting him and my attraction?
A resoundingnoechoes in my head. I hate conflict. I’ve avoided it for most of my life. Truthfully, I’ve been a bit of a pushover except for these last few months when I stood up to my parents and moved out on my own.
I don’t want to be a doormat for my husband, which is why I’ve railed against our union and chosen to ignore the kind thingshe’s done for me—not the least of which was caring for my injuries after Fabian’s ordered beating.
“Stop thinking, Eden.” There’s a sharp nip to my earlobe, and I jerk to attention. He’s right. Thinking has gotten me nowhere with him. With this whole situation.
So, I might as well give in, right? Accept the path my life has taken and revel in the pleasure of Luca’s desire. Because what other choice do I have?
“Make me,” I dare, desperate to forget about right or wrong and just feel for once in my life.
Luca growls, then I’m snatched into the air and tossed on the bed like a tiny ballerina flying across stage rather than the lumbering baby elephant I sometimes feel like. He strips off his shirt but leaves his pants unbuttoned to hint at the bulging arousal his happy trail leads to.
“You just waved a red flag in front of a raging bull, Butterfly. Let’s pray you don’t regret it.” One minute, Luca is standing beside the bed, outlined by a glow of moonlight, and the next, his shadowed face hovers over mine while his heavy body presses me deeper into the mattress.
The thin straps of my gown snap under his strength, cool air rushing over my flushed chest, before Luca’s hot mouth captures a pebbled nipple and laves it with his tongue.
“Oh, god!” I arch into him, staring up at the sheer curtains draped over the four-poster bed. My hands clench around his broad shoulders as they bunch and shift with each move of his head between my breasts.
“So rosy and sweet,” he murmurs, alternating between leisurely licks and powerful suction until I feel raw and over-sensitized and desperate for release.
“Luca… Stop teasing…”
“But it’s so much fun.” His dark chuckle wafts across my abdomen once he finally begins a trek lower. Instinctively, mylegs widen to welcome him where I need him most, and I don’t care how wanton it makes me.
I’m a virgin who is now married to the hottest man I’ve ever met. A man obsessed with me, based on Allison’s comments and Luca’s own behavior. So, sue me if I’m ready to befuckedinto oblivion on my Italian honeymoon.
“There she is.” Luca’s breath settles over my pussy, a whisper through the crop of curls there. “My brave Butterfly opening up for me,” he groans and nuzzles a cheek into the crease of my thigh. “I’ve dreamt of this moment. Jerked off to the thought of eating your hot little cunt until you screamed my name. And now you’re going to give me what I want, aren’t you, sweet Eden?”
“Y-Yes…” I stutter, wound too tightly to speak coherent sentences.
“Good girl.” He spreads me wider until the sound of my drenched pussy reaches my ears, and I moan at the obscenity.
The wet tip of a tongue edges around my clit before wedging beneath the tingling bundle of nerves to start an insistent pattern meant to make me whimper from pleasure overload.
