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The heat from Damiano’s body chases the chill from mine, and closing my eyes, I manage to drift off to sleep.
Chapter 41
Damiano
I got little to no sleep with my cock buried deep inside Gabriella. Not fucking her is impossibly hard, but she needs the rest, so I power through.
I deserve a fucking gold medal for the sweet torture I’m forced to endure.
Then she fucking stirs against my chest, and her pebbled nipples brush over my skin.
Christ.
When her inner muscles clamp around my cock, I let out a harsh breath, sweat beading at the back of my neck.
Before I can ask if she’s awake, Gabriella slowly starts to swivel her hips.
I let out a groan, my fingers digging into her ass cheeks. “You’re killing me.”
“Hmm…”
She rubs her clit against me, the movements quickly pushing me toward an orgasm.
“Amore mia,” I grunt. “You’re going to make me come.”
“That’s the plan,” she moans before starting to press kisses to my pecs. “You feel so good.” Her teeth tug at my nipple. “You taste even better.”
I don’t stand a chance against my wife, and I thrust up once before shooting my release into her wet warmth.
My body shudders from the extreme fucking pleasure after being tortured for hours.
“Christ,” I gasp through ragged breaths, my cock jerking inside her while my body loses all strength.
Gabriella curls against my chest, her muscles tensing before I feel her orgasm hit. Her quivering breaths explode over my skin, and I bury my hands in her hair to pull her head back so I can claim her lips.
The moment I kiss her, a peaceful feeling fills my heart.
My mouth worships hers for long minutes before I finally end the kiss so I can stare into her beautiful eyes.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” She nods, then her pussy frees my cock as she climbs off my lap.
Getting up, I follow her to the bathroom, where we clean ourselves.
I check the bag for chinos, a sweater, and shoes, and getting dressed, I glance at the satin robe that’s the only thing covering my wife's body.
I dig in the bag again, and when I find leggings and a warm shirt, I mutter, “Just fucking great.”
“What?” Gabriella asks, moving closer to me.
“Carlo packed leggings for you.”
“Oh. He did? Let me have them.”
Not happy, I hand the clothes to her. She pulls on the fucking tight leggings, and when she struggles with the shirt, I help her to ease the fabric over the burns on her back.
“Put on the robe as well,” I order. “I want you covered as much as possible.”
