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I moan as my hand closes around my hard length, the skin taut and beyond sensitive as I free my aching cock, the tip slick with my arousal. I push the swollen head against her drenched entrance, the heat tearing another pained groan free of my lips—and then I thrust into her, hard and fast, giving us both what we want.
What I can’t stop myself from taking any longer.
Gia
The feeling of Salvatore thrusting into me takes my breath away.
It all takes my breath away. My body feels wound tight, confused, pain and pleasure all mixed together, the ache between my thighs spreading through me until all I want is for him to fuck me harder, until we both come.
I’m furious at him—and for the first time, there’s no question in my mind about whether or not I want him. His possessiveness and jealousy made me angrier than I’ve been since the day he disrupted my wedding and took me for himself—and also turned me on more than I thought was possible.
For once, he stopped thinking. He stopped fighting how he felt, and just acted. And as angry as I am at him for manhandling me, for telling me what to do, for punishing me—I’m also painfully aroused.
I’ve touched myself more than once, imagining just that. Spankings, being tied up, forced down to my knees, ordered to do all sorts of things that a good mafia daughter shouldn’t know about. But I never knew how good it could feel in reality. How that burning pain could turn into something else, a hot ache that left me dripping, hollow, desperate to be filled.
And now Salvatore is doing just that.
He draws himself out to the tip, thrusting shallowly at the entrance, and then drives himself into me again to the hilt. It’s almost too much, his cock almost too big, but the pleasure of it filling me, hot and thick and impossibly hard, drives the pleasure so high that the pain only enhances it.
“Is this what you want?” he growls, his hand tight around my wrists as he thrusts again, grinding against me as he fills me completely. “You want to be fucked like this, Gia? Held down while I use you? Is this going to make you come?”
“Yes,” I gasp helplessly, beyond argument, beyond shame. He hasn’t touched my clit, but I can feel my orgasm building, his thick length rubbing every sensitive inch of me inside, sending waves of unimaginable pleasure through me. He slams into me again, his hand on the back of my neck, pinning me to the bed as he fucks me hard. “Please—please don’t stop?—”
“Oh, fuck—” Salvatore groans, his jaw tight as I twist my head to look back at him, his chest heaving. “God, you’re so fucking tight. So fucking good. You fit my cock so perfectly, fuck?—”
He’s lost control at last. I’d wondered what it would be like, what he would do if he snapped, and it’s everything I could have imagined. He looks like a god fucking me, all taut muscles beneath his clothes, his linen shirt clinging to his damp skin, his pants ripped open and hanging off of his sharp hipbones as he thrusts into me again and again. I catch a glimpse of his swollen, glistening cock as he draws out of me again, and my legs spread wider without thinking about it, my back arching to take more of him.
“Greedy girl,” Salvatore growls, his hands holding me down. “You want more of my cock, don’t you? You want it harder, you little troia?”
The filthy word, growled in his deep voice, his accent thick and rough, pushes me over the edge. I moan helplessly, the sound rising in a desperate whine as I buck against his hands, the orgasm crashing over me in waves. I feel myself clench around him, pulling him deeper, hear his desperate groan as I arch into his thrusting cock, wanting more, wanting him to fuck me, to come in me, to fill me up. I don’t even realize that I’m moaning those words aloud until Salvatore lets out a sudden string of curses in Italian, his voice a rasping growl as he thrusts into me to the hilt, his body pinning me to the bed. I feel his cock stiffen and throb inside of me, feel the hot flood of his cum as his mouth presses against my shoulder, his hips jerking rhythmically against me as he comes hard on the heels of my own violent orgasm.
For a brief moment, neither of us move. I lay there trembling, the aftershocks still rippling over my skin, and I find myself hoping that he’ll stay hard, that he’ll keep fucking me, that he’ll make me come again.
But instead, he recoils from me, letting go of me abruptly as he pulls free. I moan as his cock slips out of me, feeling empty, the hot dampness of his cum leaking onto my thighs as Salvatore yanks his pants back up around his hips, breathing hard.
And then, before I can get up or even say anything at all, he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind me as he leaves me there, a disheveled mess on our bed.
—
When he comes back, it’s dark out. I’ve since showered and changed, and I’m sitting out on the deck when he returns, watching the glassy surface of the pool while I sit on one of the lounges. I hear the glass door open and hear his footsteps approaching, but I don’t look up at him.
“Gia—”
“Stop lying to yourself.” I don’t look at him at first. I’ve had hours to think about what I want to say. I take a deep breath, finally turning to face him, and as I look up at him, his expression is unreadable. I can’t imagine what it is that he’s thinking.
“You want me,” I say quietly. “You’re lying to us both if you keep pretending that you don’t. And I don’t want any part of that. So you need to either admit it, or find a way to dissolve our marriage. Either way, I don’t want any more of your lies.”
Salvatore doesn’t flinch. His expression doesn’t change. “You’re mine,” he says quietly. “I won’t give you up.”
I take a deep breath. For once, I don’t feel angry. I don’t feel as if I’m simmering on the edge of either an outburst or a breakdown. I don’t feel sure of the way forward, either—but I feel calm. Calmer than I have in a long time.
Slowly, I stand up to face him, my arms crossed under my breasts. “You remember what we said the other night about playing games?”
Salvatore doesn’t respond, his face still implacable.
“I’m done with them,” I tell him quietly. “I’m done with this back and forth, with you insisting you don’t want me, hurting my feelings, making me feel unwanted and alone, all in the name of protecting me—only for you to then swoop in, drag me back here, and fuck me like that? What I wanted, only not because you were so furious you couldn’t control yourself, but because you admitted that you wanted me. So here’s what I’ve decided.”
I tip my chin up, meeting his eyes, steeling myself not to flinch. “I won’t accept less than a husband who treats me as an equal, and gives me what I need.” My voice softens, ever so slightly. “You were my first kiss, you know. You’ve been my first everything. Pyotr might have shown me what it meant to feel desire, but he didn’t show me how to act on any of it. You’ve done all of that. Maybe I was deluded into thinking that Pyotr would have given me what I wanted—maybe not. Maybe you’re right, and I was wrong. But either way—that’s what I was promised. Passion, desire, an equal place at my husband’s side. And I won’t settle for less.”
