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I nod, but I’m not sure I’m following.
“Each one represents a person who’s been in my life.” She points to the small moonflowers on the climbing vine, then hovers over the relatively large rose, pausing again, golden eyes meeting mine. “This one is you,” she lays her palm over the fresh tattoo…. right in the middle of her sternum.
My own heart clenches, not painfully but in a way that sends a rush of something even more potent than blatant arousal coursing through my veins. I feel electrified, sparked up like never before. I don’t just want Sophie; I need her. Right fucking now.
I unzip and shove my pants down with lightning speed. I’ve got my eyes on the tattoo as I line up my cock and drive in, hard and deep from the first thrust because there’s no god damned way I’ve got ‘slow and gentle’ in me right now.
She’s marked me on her body permanently. It’s like a brand, a claim on her. She’s all fucking mine, it says to me.
She smothers her cry against my shoulder, and then she wraps her legs around my hips. I want to kiss her, claim her lips like I’m claiming her pussy, but I can’t look away from that rose.
After a moment, as if needing to see me, Sophie leans back and supports herself with her hands on the vanity. I force my gaze off her tattoo and look up at her as I withdraw and slam back in. The look in her golden eyes matches the tattoo on her breast. I’m yours, they say.
It sends the tingling at the base of my spine into overdrive. I thrust harder.
Deeper.
Faster.
Her jaw is clenched tight, but even so, moans are slipping out, louder with each passing moment. I want to tell her to stop fighting them, to moan, to scream, to let the whole fucking world hear that she’s mine. But I lunge forward instead, taking her mouth. I push past the seam of her lips, knowing she can taste herself on my tongue.
She grabs onto my shoulders, her fingers curled, her nails digging into my skin.
It isn’t long—a minute, maybe two—when I can feel her hovering on the edge, so close, right there.
I slip my hand between us and rub her clit, once, twice.
She cries out in ecstasy, the noise strangled by her own effort and muffled by my mouth, as her pussy convulses around my cock.
“Christ. Fuck,” I curse as my balls draw up, and my climax shoots out in white-hot bolts of current that travel all the way down to my fucking toes.
She feels so good, so slick, so fucking tight.
I rest my forehead against hers as the current gives way to aftershocks and my pounding heartbeat begins to slow.
“Oh my God,” she pants as realization dawns on her. “Do you think they suspect we were—”
“Fuck yes.”
“Nico!”
I shrug, not seeing the point of lying.
“What will they think?” Her tone is a mix of embarrassment and excitement.
“That their son is madly in love with you,” I say, then kiss her forehead, nose, and lips because every part of this woman is all mine. “You’re fine, baby. You’re practically a saint among us. They’ve committed much worse crimes than you, trust me.”
She scoffs, “Great. And that should help me face your parents at the table with a straight face.”
“Mm-hmm,” I deadpan. “While their son’s cum drips out of you, no less.”
“Oh my God, Nico Vitelli!” she blushes a deep shade of red. “You’re so awful.”
I chuckle, bending to kiss her heated cheeks. “Now you look like the definition of caught in the act. You’ll fit right in.”
I’m sure she’ll have that on replay in her head all through dessert. How she can still blush so much despite where and how she grew up is beyond me, but I’m here for it.
“You’re so going to pay for this, Nico,” Sophie warns, shaking her head.
