Page 74 of Brutal Union
"Inside," he growls, tucking himself away with visible difficulty. "Before my control snaps completely."
The penthouse feels different as we step inside. Not like a prison or a palace, but something in between.
Marco locks the door behind us with finality, activating the security system. When he turns, we face each other properly for the first time since the cemetery.
"You killed him without hesitating," he says with something like awe. "Shot him point-blank."
"I was never going to be his victim. Not after being your equal."
We crash together, violent and desperate. His mouth claims mine, his tongue fucking into my mouth like he's claiming me from the inside out. My hands tear at his shirt, buttons scattering across marble, needing his skin against mine.
The dress rips as he yanks it down, good riddance to green silk and Irish claims. His mouth finds my breast, sucking my nipple hard enough to make me cry out, teeth grazing the sensitive peak.
He growls against my skin, then bites down on the soft flesh of my breast, marking me. "Tell me who you belong to."
"You. Always you. Even when I hated you." I gasp as he switches to my other breast, lavishing it with the same rough attention. "But you're mine too, Rosetti. That's the deal."
He drops to his knees, pushing my legs apart, then licks a long stripe from my knee to my pussy. "All this for me?"
"Please," I beg, beyond pride.
He buries his face between my legs, his tongue finding my clit immediately. He sucks it between his lips while sliding three fingers into my pussy, stretching me, filling me, making me scream.
"That's it," he growls against my clit. "Let me hear you."
I come hard, my pussy clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through me. He doesn't stop, working me through it and straight into another orgasm that has my legs shaking.
He stands, spinning me around to press me against the door. I feel the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
"I fucking love you," he says, rubbing his cock through my wetness but not entering.
"You too, husband, I love you," I whimper.
He slams into me with one brutal thrust, filling me completely. The stretch burns perfect, my pussy struggling to accommodate his size at this angle.
"So fucking tight," he groans, pulling out only to slam back in.
He fucks me against the door with punishing force, each thrust rattling the frame. One hand wraps around my hair, holding me in place, while the other finds my clit.
"Never again," he pants against my neck. "Never walking away again."
"Never," I agree, then scream as another orgasm tears through me.
He follows immediately, his cock pulsing as he fills me with hot spurts of cum. We collapse to the floor in a tangle of limbs and torn clothes, his cum already leaking out of me onto the marble.
But it's not enough. Can never be enough after tonight.
"Shower," I manage, and he carries me there, both of us stumbling over scattered weapons and ruined fabric.
The hot water sluices over us, turning pink as it washes away blood that isn't ours. Marco presses me against the shower wall, drops to his knees again, and I realize he's licking his own cum from my pussy, cleaning me with his tongue.
A moan escapes me, my body trembling between pain and pleasure, already reaching for the next crest.
He rises, guiding me to face the wall. "Palms against the glass," his voice leaves no room for argument.
I position myself, widening my stance as he claims me from behind. He fills me completely. Our bodies connect in rhythmic percussion beneath the shower's cascade.
"You feel like heaven," he murmurs, his fingers finding my breast while his other hand circles lower, teasing. "Like you were made for this. For me."
