by Olivia Gates
“Vincenzo, pietà…have mercy now…you win.” She stumbled the last steps between them, crushed her breasts against his hard chest, assuaging the pain, accumulating more. “Now dictate. Any intimacy. And just do it.”
He grabbed her head in both hands. “I always started our intimacies as the hunter, the seeker. Even when you did anything to me, it was at my request, my prodding. But I always fantasized that you’d take the initiative, do anything you want to me. This is what I dictate. That you show me your desire, Gloria mia.” His hands stabbed into her hair, pulling her away by its tether, demand vehement in his eyes. “Do it.”
*
Vincenzo watched Glory as she pulled away. Her eyes were eclipsed with hunger as she started demonstrating her fantasies.
She touched him all over, explored and owned and worshipped him, in strokes and caresses, in suckles and kisses, in nips and kneads—his chest and abdomen, his arms and hands, his neck and face—telling him how she’d always wanted to do that, every second of every day, how she’d thought nothing, real or imagined, touched him in beauty, in wonder.
He reveled in feeling his mind unravel with her every touch and confession, in feeling her craving cocooning him, claiming him. Then, without warning, she dropped before him, wrapping her arms around his thighs, burrowing her face into his erection.
His eyes glazed over at the sight of her as she knelt before him. The ripe swell of her buttocks, the graceful curve of her back, the gleaming luxury of her hair, her unbridled expression as she drew deep of his feel and scent, as she pulled his boxers down. His engorgement rebounded against his belly, throbbing, straining.
Then she was showing him in glorious sight and sound and touch. And words. Feverish, explicit, uncensored words, confessing all. Exposing the true extent of her desire.
His body hovered on the edge of detonation with every touch, yet plateaued in the most agonizing arousal he’d ever experienced. He felt his life depended on, and was threatened by, prolonging this. His groans merged as her hands owned and explored him, her breath on his flesh a furnace blast, her tongue as it swirled and lapped the flow of his desire a sweep of insanity. Then she engulfed all she could of him, poured delight and delirium all over him. And his mind snapped.
“Enough.”
Then she was hauled over his shoulders, gasping and moaning as he hurtled across the room. Her teeth sank into his shoulder blade, unleashing a roar from his depths as he swung her over and down on the bed. He stood back for one more fractured heartbeat, looking down at her, a goddess of abandon and decadence lying open and maddened with need among the petals, her satiny firmness sparkling in his kingdom’s treasures, trembling arms outstretched, bidding him come lose his mind. He first rid her of jewels, leaving only the ring, then he lost the last shred of the civilized man and let the beast claw its way out of his skin.
He came down on top of her, yanked her thighs apart and crushed her beneath him. She surged back into him, grinding herself against him, her legs spreading wider, her fingers and nails digging into him, her litany of “don’t wait, don’t wait, fill me, fill me” completing his descent into oblivion.
Incoherent, he gripped her buttocks, tilted her, bore down on her, then, in one forceful stroke, he plunged inside her, invading her to her recesses. She engulfed him back on a piercing scream, consuming him in her vise of pure molten pleasure.
His bellow rocked him, and her beneath him. “Glory…at last.”
Her head thrashed, tossing her hair among the petals, her back a steep arch, her voice a pulse of fever. “Yes, Vincenzo, yes…take me, take me back, take all of me…”
But before he did, he rested his forehead on hers, overcome by the enormity of being inside her again. She arched beneath him, taking him all the way to her womb, her eyes streaming, making him feel she’d taken him all the way to her heart like he’d once believed she had.
On a fervent prayer that it was true, he withdrew all the way out of her then thrust back, fierce and full.
Then he rode her. And rode her. To the escalating rhythm of her satin screams, his frenzied rumbles echoing them. It could have been a minute or an hour as the pleasure, the intimacy, rose and deepened. Then, with relief and regret, both of them extreme, he felt his body hurtling to completion. Needing her pleasure first, he held back until her almost unbearable tightness clamped down on his length, pouring a surplus of red-hot welcome over his flesh as she convulsed beneath him, her orgasm tearing through her, wrenching her core around him.
Seeing her lost to the pleasure he’d given her hurled him after her into the abyss of ecstasy. His buttocks convulsed into her cradle as he poured himself inside her, surge after surge of blinding, scorching pleasure. Her convulsions spiked with every splash of his seed, her cries were stifled against his shoulder as she mashed herself into him. He felt her heart boom out of control along with his as the paroxysm of release wiped out existence around them….
*
“Dio, siete incredibile.”
Glory thought this had to be the most wonderful sound in existence. Vincenzo cooing to her. That he was telling her she was incredible didn’t hurt, either.
She hadn’t slept, not for a second. The first time had also been like that, leaving her with the experience still expanding inside her, awake but in the stasis of stunned satisfaction.
She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t cooperate. They were swollen. Just like every inch of her, inside and out. From Vincenzo’s ferocious possession, and her fierce response. A numb hand flew to her head, surprised it was still there. He’d almost blown it off with pleasure, discharging the accumulated frustrations and cravings of six years in one annihilating detonation.
And he’d only managed to whet her appetite sharper. She wanted him again, even more than before. Her addiction was fully resurrected and would keep intensifying. Until it ended again.
But now it was just starting. She wanted every second of it before she had to relinquish it all again.
Succeeding in opening her eyes at last, she found him propped over his elbow, draped half over her, his eyes smoldering down at her. “Dio, what have you done to yourself? How could you be even more beautiful than before? How could you give me even more pleasure?”
“Look who’s talking.” She dragged his head down to her, twisting beneath him, bringing him fully on top of her.
He started to kiss her, caress her, but she was too inflamed. She clamped her legs around his waist, thrusting herself against his intact arousal.
He eased her down, unlocked her legs and rose between her splayed thighs, probing her with a finger, then two. Her flesh clamped around their delicious invasion, but it was him she needed inside her. She was flowing for him. He attempted to soothe her frenzy, clearly wanting to take it slower this time. She wouldn’t survive slower. Her heartbeats felt as if they’d race each other to a standstill.
“Just take me, Vincenzo,” she cried, undulating beneath him, her breasts turgid and aching, her core on fire. “I’ve needed you inside me for so long…so long…and having you once only made me want more….”
“After six endless years without this, without you, you’ll have more, as much as you can survive.” He bore her down into the mattress, driving air from her lungs. “Now I take my fill of you. And you take your fill of me. Take it all, Gloria mia.”
And he plunged inside her.
Her scream was stifled with that first craved invasion, that elemental feeling of his potency filling her, like a burning dawn, scorching everything away as it spread. He kept plunging deeper, feeling as if he’d never bottom out. Then he did, nudging against what felt like the center of her being. He relented at her scream, resting against the opening of her womb and stilling inside her, overfilling her, inundating her with sensations both agonizing and sublime.
Then the need for him to conquer her rose. Her legs clamped around his back; her heels dug into his buttocks, urging him on; her fractured moans begged for everything, insane fo
r the assuagement of his full power and possession. And he answered, drowning her in a mouth-mating as he drove her beyond ecstasy, beyond her limits, winding that coil of need inside her tighter and tighter with each thrust.
Then he groaned for her to come for him and all the tension spiked and splintered, lashing out through her system in shock waves of excruciating gratification. His tongue filled her, absorbing her cries of pleasure as he filled her with his own, jet after jet of fuel over her fire.
He kissed her all through the descent, rumbling her name again and again, throbbing inside her until the tide receded and cell-deep bliss dragged her into its still, silent realm.
*
Glory had been awake for a while now.
She kept her eyes closed, regulating her breathing even as her heart stumbled.
From the flickering dimness illuminating her closed lids, she knew it was night again. Twenty-four hours or more had passed since Vincenzo had carried her into this chamber of pleasures. He had said he wasn’t coming up for air for at least that long. And he’d kept his promise. How he’d kept it.
After the first two times he’d made love to her, he’d carried her to the adjoining bathroom, an amalgam of old Castaldinian design and cutting-edge luxury. By the time he’d carried her back to bed, he’d melted her into too many orgasms to count. Then they’d spent hours reviving every sensual bond they’d formed years ago. He claimed they’d never loosened their hold over him.
Then he’d let her have him at her mercy as she fulfilled her fantasy of losing her mind all over him. Riding him to the most explosive release in her life was the last thing she remembered before waking up minutes ago.
There was a problem, though. She’d woken up so many times, too many, from abandoned nights to feel him wrapped around her like that. Then she’d opened her eyes and he’d dissolved into the emptiness of reality. She was afraid if she opened her eyes now, he might disappear again.
“Gloria mia?”
She’d heard him crooning her name in her waking dreams before. Logically speaking, everything that had culminated in their wedding night had to be some lovelorn hallucination….
Every nerve in her body fired in unison as the hand cupping her breast started caressing it to the fullness of need again.
Okay. None of her tormenting phantasms had felt that real. That good. That meant that even if it made no sense whatsoever, Vincenzo was really wrapped around her after a night of magic beyond her wildest fantasies.
Then his silk-covered leg drove between hers, pressing just where she needed. He must have sensed she was awake. Or her heart must have been shaking the whole bed.
No use pretending to be asleep now.
She opened her eyes. The best sight in existence filled her vision. Vincenzo. His every line thrown into relief by stark shadows and the illumination of the gibbous moon pouring from the open window. But it was his expression that had her on the verge of crushing herself against him and weeping.
She must be seeing what she longed to see. Or she was superimposing what she felt on him. He couldn’t be looking at her as if he couldn’t believe she was in his arms again. As if he was afraid to blink and miss one nuance of her, one second with her. As if he loved her. As if he’d always loved her.
As if responding to her need to escape the impossible yearnings, his expression shifted to another kind of passion as he weighed and kneaded her breast. “I think I will fulfill my fantasy, after all. I’ll keep you here as my pleasure slave.” She moaned, arched, pressed her breast harder into his big palm. Something elemental rumbled in his gut. “The way you respond to my every word and touch is pure magic. What you do to me by just existing is beyond even that.”
Her hips moved to yield to the erection that she was still stunned she could accommodate. Her moan grew louder as he expanded and hardened even more. “It’s only fair that I turn you inside out like you do me.”
Indulgence smoldered in his eyes. “So we’re even.”
“Not unless we play musical slaves.”
“After what you did to me last night, I might cheat and let you sit on the chair every time. I’ll let you sit anywhere you want, as many times and as long as you want.”
“Oh, I want. I want, Vincenzo.”
Unable to bear the emptiness inside her that only he could fill, she tried to drag him over and inside her. He resisted her, slid down her body, looking up as she twisted in his hold.
“I have a six-year hunger that I need to appease, gloriosa mia. Surrender to me, let me take my fill.”
And she collapsed, could do nothing but submit to his will and let him take everything he wanted, let him drive her to madness, over and over until he’d drained her dry of reason. Of worries. Of anything that wasn’t him.
*
When next she woke, it was night again, and she was alone.
Before dismay could register, the door creaked open and in Vincenzo walked with a huge, piled tray in his hands. In a molded gray shirt and pants, he looked like a god come down to earth to mess with mortals’ wills and jeopardize their souls.
His smile was indulgence itself as he put the tray aside to pull her up to a sitting position. The sheet fell off, exposing her breasts. As if he couldn’t help it, he bent and saluted each nipple with soft pulls, soothing the soreness she’d literally pummeled him to inflict on her.
He pulled back reluctantly. “No more temptation, princess.” He chuckled at her pout. “I’d do nothing but service and pleasure Your Royal Voluptuousness nonstop, but I have to refuel you so you can withstand the week ahead.”
She sighed her pleasure as she sifted her fingers through the thick, silky depths of his hair. “I’ve been holding up pretty well for the past two days. What’s so different about the week ahead?”
“First, for the past two days you haven’t even left this room. You have been mostly flat on your back—or belly—and apart from a couple of memorable instances, I’ve been doing all the work.” She smacked him playfully, giggling, her body priming itself again at the memory of all the “work” he’d done. “But I’m going to demand more of your participation over the next week, as it’s all the time I have for our honeymoon. My post back in New York starts next week.”
Her heart plummeted. That soon?
She must have looked as crestfallen as she felt. He smoothed her tousled bangs out of her eyes, his tone urgent. “I’ll only work by day. The nights, I’m all yours.”
She smiled, hating that she’d made him feel bad for having to work. “It’s okay. I need to get back to work myself.”
His eyes flared with possessiveness as he slid the sheet totally off her. “During the days only, Gloriosa mia. The nights are mine.”
She nodded dreamily as she squeezed her breasts and thighs together to mitigate their aching throb. “Yes.”
His eyes glazed over as he pushed her thighs apart, sliding two fingers between her soaked folds. “And afternoons and lunch breaks and whenever I can squeeze you in.”
Her legs fell apart, inviting his fingers inside; her breasts jutted for him to squeeze away. “Oh, yes.”
Her response tore away any intentions to prioritize food as he fell on her breasts again, suckling, his fingers plunging inside her, pumping. She poured fuel on his fervor, kneading his erection, sinking her teeth into his shoulders.
“Dio, Gloria mia, you make me insane….”
His growl was driven as he descended over her, pushed her flat on her back, impacting her with his full weight and rising between her spread legs only enough to free himself.
Then, without preliminaries, he drove into her, tearing a shriek from her depths. He rammed inside her in a furious rhythm, plunging deeper with every thrust, growling like a beast. The expansion inside her around his girth and length, the feeling of being totally dominated and mastered, had her sobbing, pleasure twisting tighter inside her until she feared she’d unravel once it snapped.
He rose on outstretched arms. “Look at us, Gloria mia,
look what I’m doing to you, look how you’re taking me….”
She looked, and the sight of the daunting column of flesh disappearing inside her, spreading her, joining them, made her thrash at the carnality of it, the beauty.
Then the tightness was quickening inside her, the familiar crescendo, her flesh fluttering around his girth.
He felt it, fell on her breasts, suckling hard, biting, triggering her. “Come for me, gloriosa, come all over me. Finish me with your pleasure as I finish you.”
Everything snapped inside her like a high-voltage cable, writhing and lashing out and wreaking devastation. He drove the deepest he’d ever been inside her, roaring as he rested against her womb and razed her in the ecstasy of his release.
But feeling his seed splashing her intimate walls, filling her, branding her, spread regret along with the pleasure. Regret that his seed wouldn’t take root. She’d made sure it wouldn’t.
He collapsed on top of her, his breathing as harsh as hers. She wrapped herself tighter around him, relishing his weight. Without him covering her like this, anchoring her in the aftermath of devastation, she felt she might dissipate….
He drew up, supporting his weight on one elbow, fusing them in the evidence of their mutual satisfaction, his other hand securing her head for a deep, luxurious kiss.
The moment he felt her quickening beneath him again, he rumbled a self-deprecating laugh, then groaned as he separated their bodies. “Have mercy, bellissima. Now it’s I who needs to refuel. I’m not a spry teenager anymore.”
