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I think I love you, I wanted to say, but it didn’t feel easy.
The emotion or the speaking of it.
Not like it had when I was a girl dreaming of Niccolo.
Luca wasn’t a dream. He was more like a nightmare, yet he had never seemed more real to me lying with his head on my cum-wet thigh, staring at me as if I was the center of his universe.
He was my ghost, and I was the reason he haunted this earth.
My hands relaxed in his hair, brushing it away from his achingly handsome face.
“Yes,” I said softly. “It’s more than enough.”
“Good,” he declared in his imperious way, but I could read his glacial eyes now, and there was warmth there. “Then this experiment is over, and we can go home so I can fuck you properly.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Fiammetta
I had never been so thoroughly unraveled in my life as I was for the next four hours in my flame-colored bed with the man I wished fervently was my real husband. It astonished me that he came so many times, but he assured me that there was no end to his desire for me, and I was forced to believe him.
He tied me up with supple rope the moment he had me in my bedroom. Spread eagle on the bed, he went down on me again, fucking me with his fingers as his mouth moved down to the tight furl of my asshole, tonguing it until it was soft and loosened so he could finger fuck me there too.
“I want to own every piece of you,” he said darkly, gaze focused on where I was split open on his fingers in my pussy and ass. “No one has taken you here, have they, principessa?”
“No,” I assured him, squirming against the dual feelings of heat, how they crashed and collided in a strange teeth-grinding harmony.
“You want me to own you here, too, don’t you?” he pressed, adding a second finger to my tight hole.
“Yes,” I admitted without guile, arching into the stretch and burn. “I want you everywhere.”
One last time, I thought, but didn’t say.
He fucked me with the kind of passionate intensity a musician applied to their instrument, tuning me, plucking at me, bending my strings just short of snapping me in half entirely. It was masterful and almost terrifying.
When he pressed his thick, hot cock into the slightly gaped entrance of my ass, I arched into him despite the hurt. I wanted both from him, that intoxicating cocktail of pleasure-pain he was so adept at giving me. The first thrust of him inside me, parting my virgin flesh, made me orgasm so unexpectedly, I screamed, clutching him to me like a raft as I threatened to drown.
He fucked me then, the thickness of his shaft sending electric shocks up my spine into my teeth, and when that wasn’t enough for him, he pressed his fingers into my pussy again, so I was stuffed full.
I came once more when his tongue slid into my mouth, owning me in every one of my holes. He let out a triumphant roar like a conquering knight as he came inside me, ricocheting like a cannon as he shot deeply into my ass.
After a long moment, he pulled himself from my body and flipped me over like a doll, so I was on my belly, slapping my ass and ordering me to my hands and knees.
He ate me out like that, sucking his own cum from inside my asshole.
I’d never felt a tongue against my rim, but oversensitive as it was, I came again and begged him to stop.
He didn’t.
Not for long, long hours.
In the end, he only stopped after his fourth orgasm resulted in a trickle of cum on my heaving chest. He rubbed it into my skin the way a monk would oil a religious relic, as if the combination of him on my skin was sacred.
“I always thought love was a kind of madness,” he said then, voice a whisper of sound in the dark, our bodies illuminated by the few candles he’d called ahead to have Bonnie light for us. “It always seemed beyond my capabilities. I had no concept of love, but I know madness, so maybe it isn’t so strange that what I feel for you could be called love.”
When I was struck dumb by his words, he only leaned up on an elbow to trace a line from the hollow of my throat to my navel. He seemed deeply contemplative, almost studious as he struggled for words and used me as a touchstone to search for them.
“I think my heart was just waiting for you to wake up,” he concluded with a grimly satisfied smile, as if that was the best he could do and it would have to be enough.
