Page 77 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

My white, snug jeans followed. The entire time, he watched me with hunger in his eyes. His gaze trailed over my body, each lingering look caressing my exposed skin. My bra and panties were next and his ominous gaze turned dark with want and need while he soaked in the view of my naked body.

“Your turn,” I rasped, my breathing erratic. It didn’t escape me how easily I succumbed to this man. What the fuck ever, I was a weak woman.

He stripped out of his own clothes, fast and efficiently. My mouth watered at seeing him naked. Every. Damn. Time. I loved his body, cut from marble, ripped and chiseled to perfection.

My husband was a devastatingly beautiful man.

“On the bed.” His order had me quivering with anticipation.

Without hesitation, I climbed onto his California King bed. He hadn’t even touched me yet, and I felt the trickle of desire running down my inner thigh. Watching him through hooded lids, he moved onto the bed, like a predator stalking his prey.

Iamhis prey.Willing prey, it would seem. He had stalked me for the last three years.

He hovered over me, his knees parting my legs wider. As his eyes zeroed on my pussy, there was no hiding my body’s reaction to him. The desire glistening between my thighs was all the evidence he needed. I was eager to have him inside me.

“So fucking beautiful,” he croaked, his hand on his cock, stroking himself. There was no glee or mocking in his voice. Only reverence. Every fiber of me melted for him. I arched my back, telling him without words I needed him inside me. “I’m going to fuck you until the entire house, entire city, hears you scream my name.”

His words affected me, making me a slave for his touch and his claim. He rubbed himself against my entrance, toying with me, teasing me. My nipples were so tight that they ached, needing him to bite down on the sensitive skin to release this tension.

“Please, Luciano.” He was driving me insane with this burning need licking every inch of my skin. I thrust my hips up with desperation, uncaring that I seemed greedy and desperate for him. He didn’t seem to notice or care though, because the next instant with one hard thrust, he pushed all the way in, filling me to the hilt.

I sucked in a breath as sensations rippled through me. This was my utter submission, I was his. I had always been his. Luciano’s face morphed into one of utter possession.

“You are mine, wife,” he gritted as he pulled out and thrust back in. “Every breath you take,” he growled as he pushed back in, “…is mine. And I’m yours.”

His grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh. It was a delicious kind of pain. I leaned up and took his lips into a kiss. His strokes, initially measured and leisurely, started increasing in speed.

And then he started moving relentlessly, like a possessed man. My nails scraped down his back, encouraging him, begging him to fuck me harder. Deeper. Merciless and ruthless.

I dug my nails into his back, my eyelids closed, focused only on the pleasure he was giving me.

“More,” I pleaded. “Harder.”

His movements became harder, ruthless… he was rutting me with quick, deep thrusts, and stars swirled behind my eyelids.

“Open your eyes,” he grunted his demand.

I barely peeled my eyelids, meeting his lust crazed gaze. I felt like I was coming unglued, blinded by the pleasure he was offering me.

“I want you to see who’s fucking you.” He drove deeply into me.

“Yes, yes, yes. More,” I begged through broken moans, my head whipping from side to side.

“Mine to fuck.” Thrust. “Mine to break.” Thrust. “Mine to save.”

My body was climbing higher and higher, with each erratic, hard pound of his. Incoherent words left my lips, my mind completely lost to the extreme pleasure my husband was offering.

“You. Are. Fucking. Mine.”

The pleasure burst through my veins, and I felt myself spiraling off the edge, into a million pieces. The orgasm shook my inner core, my pussy clenching around his cock, milking him for everything. He continued to move, thrusting through my orgasm, thrusting… once, twice, till his body tensed as he groaned his own release.

We remained like that, both of us panting heavily as we slowly came down off our heights. His head rested against the crook of my neck. Unspoken words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I have never gotten over Luciano Vitale… my husband. My demise.

My heart pounded against my chest, and I feared he’d somehow hear the whispers of my heart, confessing to my husband I never got over him. That I still loved him.

I was doomed!If his gun against my skull didn’t squash these feelings of love, I wasn’t sure what would.

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