Page 77 of Savage Union
“You can,” I whisper, forehead pressed to hers. “Youwill. Just let go,bambola. I’ve got you.”
The words crack something open between us.
Her body clenches around me, her breath faltering, and then—then—she starts to fall.
Not in shame. Not in fear.
But inpleasure.
And it’s fuckingbeautiful.
I keep my pace steady, adjusting the angle, grinding deeper until I find the spot that makes her cry out, her legs locking around my waist, her hands trembling as they move to cup the back of my neck like she needs me closer,deeper,more.
She’s moaning now—soft, breathless sounds that hitch and stutter each time I thrust into her.
Her body starts to quake. Her voice breaks.
“I—I think?—”
“You’re close,” I murmur against her jaw. “Let it happen.”
She comes apart with a cry she tries to muffle against my throat, but I don’t let her hide. Iwantit. Her legs tighten, her walls flutter around me, her whole body trembling as she unravels beneath me.
And I lose it.
I thrust once, twice, and then I’m gone—buried deep inside her as I spill everything I am into the only woman who’s ever undone me with a single brokenplease.
It’s not just release. It’sclaiming. It’sconsecration.
She’s the first.
And fuck me, she might be theonly.
I don’t pull away.
I press kisses to her shoulder, her jaw, the corner of her mouth as she catches her breath, as her lashes flutter closed and her fingers soften in my hair like she never wants to let go.
And for the first time in a long, violent life…
I don’t want her to.
She’s still pulsing around me, body twitching in aftershocks, the echo of her orgasm rippling through her like a wave that doesn’t know how to stop crashing. Her legs are wrapped around my waist, locking me in. Her breath is warm against my throat. Her nails drag weakly down my back.
And I’m stillinsideher.
Still hard.
Still holding back.
Barely.
She blinks up at me, dazed and flushed, like she doesn’t know where she is—only that it feelsright.
And I need toruinthat feeling.
I pull out just enough to thrust back in, slow and deep, dragging a ragged groan from my own throat.
“Vito,” she whispers, her voice raw. “You haven’t…”
