“Well, we have to get out of this bed at some point,” he starts, rolling us over. A weightless feeling comes over me when he presses me into the mattress, his hardening dick slipping through my folds. “Have a shower, get dressed, eat some breakfast.”

Using his hand, he guides himself to my entrance, groaning when he slides easily inside my heat. “Though, I’m not sure you wanted a play-by-play of our morning routine.”

“N-uh, ohhh,” I stutter when he pulls out and plunges back in. One hand grips my hip harshly while his other plays with my peaking nipple. I struggle to speak as he slides in and out of me.

This is so different from the previous times.

They were urgent, frenzied, and full of need . . . but this?

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we were making love as he moves inside me slowly. He works himself in and out, my orgasm building slower than ever before. But when it claims me, taking over my body with trembles, it’s the most intense thing I’ve ever felt. I’m overwhelmed in sensations as I throb around him, my fingernails dragging over his back as he continues to thrust inside of me slowly.

After long minutes, he moves faster, a groan sliding from his lips when his dick pulses inside of me, his own climax taking over his body.

When he rests his forehead against mine, our laboured breaths blend, heating my face.

“You never answered my question,” I tell him, reaching up to cup his cheek. My thumb strokes the stubble there, and I bite my lip when he lets out a low moan. “What happens now?”

“That’s not something I can answer, Princess. But I promise you, whatever it is. We’ll face it together.”

His promise soothes something inside of me, and when he flops back on his back, tucking me into the crook of his arm, I can’t help but wonder how he intends to keep it. I’m under no illusions that alone with him in this room, we’re safe . . . but out there, where I have a husband and he has responsibilities?

We’re doomed.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” I ask him a little later while he kneels on the floor of Nico’s bathroom, a hand clamped on my thigh as he cleans the dried blood leftover from his scarification session last night.

The skin is sore and raw as he cleans around it. Without the crimson staining, I can see an L and a C etched into my skin, and it causes my pussy to throb. I twist my hands in the hem of the shirt he gave me to throw over my naked body, the material pooling at my waist.

“Leonardo Cataldi,” he tells me with a satisfied smirk on his face when I ask what it means.Well, Christ on a cracker, the motherfucker scarred his initials into my thigh.“And to answer your earlier question, no. I don’t believe in soulmates.”

My lips turn down at his answer, a frown marring my face. It’s not that I believe in soulmates either . . . but the connection between the two of us is too overwhelming to deny that there has to be something driving it.

“Don’t look so forlorn,” he murmurs, swiping the last of the antiseptic cream on my thigh before pushing down on them with his hands until he’s standing between my spread legs. “I said I don’t believe in soulmates, and I don’t. What I do believe in, though, is people.”

He cups my neck, his fingers threading into my hair as he pulls my head backwards so I’m staring up at him. “And make no mistake, Princess. You are my person.”

I close the distance between us, my arms falling over his shoulders as I press my lips against his. Those words out of his mouth are more than I could have hoped for, just knowing that maybe he feels even a little for me of what I feel for him. I grip his hair, tugging him into me to deepen the kiss, while his hand tightens around my throat for a beat, starving me of oxygen.

When my eyes close, he relinquishes his hold, pulling away from me. I lick my lips, hopping down and pushing against his stomach until he backs into the closed door. “I want to do something for you now.”

“Is that so?” he mumbles, his breath shaking as I trail my fingers over his bare chest, lowering myself until I’m on my knees before him and hooking my thumbs in the waistband of his grey joggers.

“Always with the grey joggers.”

“I heard a thing or two about women liking them.” He shrugs, his pupils dilating when I pull the material past his firm thighs, letting them fall into a puddle at his ankles. “What are you doing, Princess?”

“I recall you telling me that you taste real fucking good. I’m just testing that theory.”

Before he can say anything more, I lean forwards, pressing a kiss at the tip of his dick. He hisses under his breath, his fingers wrapping in my hair as I open my mouth to guide him inside. My tongue traces his head for a beat, my pussy aching at the groaned curses falling from his mouth, before I suck in my cheeks, pulling him deeper.

His dick hits the back of my throat, causing me to gag before he slides himself out slowly. Looking up, I heat at the way his eyes are laser focused on his dick as it moves along my tongue.

“There may not be a better sight than you on your knees, worshipping my dick, Princess.” He groans, forcing himself to the back of my throat again. Tears spring to my eyes at the lack of oxygen, though, that only spurs him on. He thrusts harder, faster, fucking my mouth with a ferociousness I didn’t know possible.

“Are you wet for me?” he asks when I writhe on my knees, my body seeking release as he seeks his on my tongue. I try to speak, but he pulls me into his groin, choking me on his dick. He’s not wrong. He does taste real fucking good, and I only want more. “Stroke your clit, baby. Slide your finger over your pussy while I fuck your mouth, gather up that delicious juice that I know is pooling on the floor right now, and use it on your clit until you come. And when you do, I’m going to soak your face in my cum.”

Holy fucking shit.

I don’t waste time answering his demands, I move to my soaking pussy, my fingers teasing myself as I slide through my folds. His punishment on my throat continues, his dick pulsing with each thrust.