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“I’m trying,” she breathes. “You could make me come again?—”
I swallow hard. I know what she’s trying to talk me into doing. She wants to know what my mouth feels like, and I feel a small pang of guilt for denying it to her. I married her, after all—doesn’t she deserve all the pleasure she could feel within a marriage? But I know if I do—if I let myself taste her, if I find out what it’s like for her to come on my tongue, we’ll never get out of this bed. I’ll keep her here for a week, unable to control myself any longer, and our marriage will be everything I’ve been trying so hard to keep it from becoming.
Instead, I let go of my cock, keeping the tip pressed against her as I slide my fingers over her swollen clit. She gasps, arching into my touch immediately, rubbing against me in a way that makes my head spin with pleasure. I’ve had a decent amount of sex in my life, but I can’t recall it ever having felt this good, and I’m not even inside of her yet.
Truthfully, I can’t remember anything having ever felt this good.
I feel her pushing against me as I rub my fingers in tight, quick circles over her, the sound of her moans and the feeling of her writhing against me on the verge of driving me mad. Her hips buck upwards into the sensation, and I feel myself slip into her, my tip sinking into the clenching velvet heat as Gia cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
“Good girl,” I manage to gasp as another inch of my cock slides into her. “That’s it. You’re taking it so well.”
She moans again at the praise, and I can feel her fluttering around me, her muscles tightening on the verge of another climax. She’s so responsive that it makes me feel half-insane with desire, with wanting to find out all of the other ways I could make her respond to me.
“Salvatore—” She gasps out my name, and I can tell she’s so lost in pleasure that she’s forgotten to be angry with me. She’s forgotten everything except how good my fingers feel, how good it feels for me to fill her up, better than she expected. “Please?—”
I know what she wants. She wants everything she was promised, everything that she fantasized about for her wedding night. She wants passion and romance, pleasure and a night filled with her every desire being sated. But I can’t give her that.
Not without feeling as if I’m losing what scraps of my own honor I have left in the bargain.
I rub my fingers over her clit, almost roughly, driving her to the edge as I push forward, sinking into her to the hilt. The pleasure of it makes my teeth grind together, my back bowing as I feel her soft folds press against the base of my cock, my balls tight and painful as I rock deeper into her. She tightens around me, moaning helplessly as I push her over the edge with one more quick flick of my fingers. As her sounds of pleasure fill the air, I let my own climax follow hers.
I want to hold back. I want more than one stroke inside of her, more than just these brief seconds of feeling her exquisite pussy clenching around the sensitive length of my cock. But like so much else with her, I can’t allow it. If I’m ready to come now—and god, I’ve been ready to come since she took her clothes off—then that’s all that’s needed to consummate our vows entirely.
I can’t stop the groan that escapes me, a ragged sound of pleasure that slips through my clenched teeth as I shudder above her, my cock throbbing and my vision blurring as I fill her with my cum. She gasps, trembling underneath me as I allow myself one more thrust, my hand clenching in the pillow next to her head as I spurt inside of her, the sensation of it stronger than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. I’ve never come like this before. I couldn’t have ever imagined it could feel this good.
“Fuck—” I breathe aloud before I can stop myself, rocking my hips against her, chasing the last jolts of sensation as I spill my remaining cum inside of her. Gia is moaning softly, her eyes open now as she looks up at me, and I feel like I can’t catch my breath. My chest feels tight, my cock still raging hard, and I don’t want to slide out of her. I want to stay here in the perfect, tight clutch of her forever.
Instead, I separate us with one swift movement, clenching my teeth against the sensation as I pull out of her and roll onto my back. My cock remains stubbornly hard, pressed to my abdomen and glistening with her arousal and my cum. Gia blinks at me, frozen completely still for a brief second.
“Is—is that it?” Her voice is a high squeak, disappointment plain in it, and inexplicable anger surges through me. Not so much at her as at myself—for not finding some other way to keep her safe, for getting us into this position in the first place, for being entirely unable to satisfy either of us. Her clear dissatisfaction pricks at my ego, especially when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could show her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. I could make her come in ways she never imagined, satisfy her more than she ever thought possible.
And I’m not satisfied, either. Sinking myself into her as a matter of duty and then allowing myself to come moments later isn’t what I want in bed. My stubborn erection is proof enough of that.
“I made you come twice,” I mutter. “I thought you’d be happy with that.”
Gia’s mouth drops open. She lets out a sudden, shocked whimper, and then, to my surprise, bursts into tears.
It startles me so much that I don’t know what to do at first. And before I can roll over and reach for her, before I can figure out what kind of comfort she might need, she grabs the sheet and wraps it around herself, yanking it off of the bed as she jumps out of it.
And then, as I stare after her, she flees the bedroom and runs out to the deck in tears.
Gia
I’m not entirely sure why I’m crying. Maybe it’s the roller-coaster of hormones and emotions from finally losing my virginity. Maybe it’s the shock of the actual act lasting less than a minute. Maybe it’s the disappointment of realizing that even this isn’t going to be what I want. Even if I convince Salvatore to take me to bed, he isn’t going to crack and give that to me.
I’m not ever going to have the marriage I dreamed of.
Another sob escapes me, my hand covering my mouth as my shoulders shake, and I sink down onto the lounge chair with the sheet wadded around me. It’s over. It’s all over. It doesn’t matter if Pyotr comes for me now. It doesn’t matter if he wants to rescue me, if he still cares about me, or if Salvatore is right, and he never really gave a shit at all.
I’m no longer a virgin. I can’t argue that Salvatore’s cock hasn’t been inside of me, that I’m still a virgin on a technicality, that if Pyotr stole me back, he would still be the only man to have ever fucked me, the only man who could be the father of my children.
Salvatore was inside of me. He came inside of me. I’m his wife now, in every way that matters in our world.
And all the other ways—all the other things that I dreamed of in a marriage, they only matter to me.
This is all I get. I’d gambled that if I could convince him to go to bed with me, if I could break that much of his control, he’d snap and show me everything I dreamed of. He’d crumble under the barrage of my taunts, and his ego would get the better of him. I thought he’d need to be the man who made me scream for him in bed, who taught me everything he could do to me.
But Salvatore is stronger than that. And for the first time, I think I actually believe that he didn’t marry me out of lust. He married me out of a belief—misdirected or not—that he was keeping me safe. And somehow, that’s actually worse.
