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We exchange rings with Bob Marley singing “One Love” in the distance. The memory after the first night I spent with her comes rushing back, and I have to force down the lump in my throat. This is so surreal.
As the ceremony comes to a close, the children, dressed in their finest, crowd in for a big hug. I don’t know what I’ve done to be worthy of such love in my life, but I vow to do whatever is necessary to protect my family for the rest of my days.
Poppy encourages us to come and enjoy the reception she has planned, but it’s hard to focus on food and dancing. I just want to be alone with my wife.
“I don’t know how much longer I can stand this, Cucciolotta.”
Her head whips toward me, the corner of her mouth bent in a lopsided frown.
“No, no, baby. Not the wedding. I need to be alone with you.”
Her sweet face relaxes, and she leans into me.
“It’s still early. We have the whole evening with our friends and family. Can we just sneak away for a few minutes?” I plead. I lift her hand and place it under the table so she can feel how fucking hard I am for her. “Please, puppy?” I’m not beneath begging at this point.
“Give me one minute.” She rises from her seat and heads over to where Poppy’s standing. I’m dying to know what she’s asking, but I’m convinced everyone will be clear we’re trying to sneak away from our own party to get it on if I bring any attention to us. Deciding to be optimistic, I stand and make my way down the back sidewalk to our place, praying she’ll join me.
Once back at our home, I wait impatiently by the door. But as she comes into view, my face falls.
“What?” She stops in her tracks. “That’s not the look I was going for.”
“Why are you carrying those?” I nod to where she’s holding the fuck hot shoes by the straps.
“They were digging into my heels on the walk back. Uphill isn’t easy with shoes like these.”
I rub my beard, sorely disappointed. Coming closer, I scoop my bride up in my arms. “Are they too sore to wear if you aren’t walking?” I quirk a brow, hoping she catches my meaning. “Holy hell, Juliette. They’ve had me stiff as a board all afternoon. I need to fuck you in them.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “You know this has to be quick. Or even our kids might suspect we’re up to no good. Who runs off at their own wedding?”
“Lots of people,” I say as I push through the door. “There. I’ve carried my wife across the threshold.” I drop to my knees as laughter tumbles down from her lips. “Now hand me those shoes.”
“And they say romance is dead.” She complies, and I help her put on one, then the other, my dick growing painfully harder by the second.
As I stand, I lift the hem of her dress and watch as it easily lifts over her head. She’s wearing tiny white lace panties, but the bra must’ve been built into her wedding gown. Her beautiful tits and tight pink nipples have my rigid cock pushing against my suit pants. This isn’t going to last long at all.
I cup her glorious breasts and squeeze them together, licking and sucking one and then the other. Unable to wait a moment longer, I lift her and carry her over to the dining room table, where I pull her panties down her legs and spread her wide. She rests those glorious heels on my shoulders as I dive into her slickcenter. I can’t help groaning into her as I bury my face in her pussy.
“Luca. God, please. It feels so good, but I want you. Now.” I love that she moans out my real name when we’re alone.
I quickly remove my pants and boxers before returning to lift her feet back over my shoulders. Wasting no time, I thrust my full length into her, and she cries out. But I know her sounds. She’s not in pain. She’s as close to the edge as I am.
Holding her hips steady, I glide my hard length in and out of her. The sound of her arousal as her tight pussy sucks me in, combined with the sight of these fucking shoes, is pushing me to the edge. There’s something terribly erotic about seeing her pure soft skin, draped in sexy white heels with a frilly bow as my dark, tatted up body repeatedly sinks inside her.
“I’m getting close, Cucciolotta. I need you to come.”
“No. I’m not ready.”
Lies. I know she’s ready. She loves this game. Trying to make me blow my load before her so she can gloat. But two can play this game. “Dimmi che sei la mia puttana.”
She bites down on her lip. I can tell she’s fighting it.
Slamming into her body more forcefully, I bark, “Fammi vedere come scopi bene.”
“Oh,” she groans as she clenches tightly around me.
That’s it. Just a little more. I pull out, step back, and point to the couch. “There.”
Seeming confused, she stares up at me with glassy eyes.
