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Just her back arching and her hands gripping his hair as he thrust his tongue in to taste her.
Sweet, so damn sweet.
The taste of her was life-giving honey.
He couldn't get enough of it. He tasted her again and again until she came with a cry. But this still wasn't enough, and Lorenzo swiftly reversed their positions. He lifted her up as he took a seat, and he heard her gasp when she saw him unzipping himself.
"R-Renzo..."
When he reached for her, she was trembling but eager, not even needing instructions as she straddled his lap. He entered her with one thrust, and she cried out as her head fell back. His fingers bit into her sides as she rode him with an irresistible combination of inexperience and sweetness even as her hunger easily matched his.
Everything she did enthralled and enslaved him.
His need for her knew no end, and so when her nails dug into his back as she came for the second time, Lorenzo grabbed her hips and buried himself deeper into her womanhood.
"Renzo..."
His passion for her only burned hotter at the way she moaned his name out. He couldn't stop moving even when she started to beg for respite. Couldn't stop pounding into her again and again until finally—-
Finally.
Finally, it was Lorenzo's turn to growl out his wife's name, and Gazelle started to sob anew as he spent himself inside of her.
"Renzo, Renzo, Renzo..."
He squeezed his eyes shut because the emotions in her voice threatened his self-control.
What the hell's happening to me?
Everything about this moment suddenly felt too damn precious, and he had another self-sabotaging urge to just...leave.
Because all of this was starting to feel too much and too real.
A beast like me doesn't deserve this.
And that was why—-
If he had the power to unhear the way his wife was saying his name like it meant everything to her, he would have.
If he had the power to delete every memory he had of her, he would have.
Because it was just too much.
There were just so many damn things he suddenly wished himself incapable of seeing and feeling.
Because she was everything he didn't deserve.
And yet every time he looked into her eyes of blue and gray—-
Why, dammit?
Why did his wife feel so damn different from the others?
And why was she so damn good at making him act like a fool?
Because what he saw in her eyes?
It couldn't be real.
