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“Fuck.”
“What?” I taunted, wanting him but wanting him to be the one to beg. “You want?”
He rubbed himself over his jeans and approached me. He unzipped his jeans, took out his cock, and stroked it.
“You okay there, Salvatore?” I asked, arching my back and wiggling my hips before sliding a finger inside myself, then smearing the moisture up and around my back hole.
With a groan, he slid into my pussy. I put my hands back on the table when he gripped my hips, his eyes going dark as he watched himself fuck me.
It felt so fucking good, him slowly sliding in and out of me, thinking of him seeing me as I opened for him making me wetter.
But then he stopped moving, kept his cock in my pussy, and picked up the lube.
I groaned, and he grinned, uncapping it and squeezing out a generous amount before rubbing it onto me. That was when he started to move again, his cock in my cunt, his fingers in my ass.
“This is not fair,” I managed.
“Just ask for it, and I’ll give it to you good and hard just like you like it.”
“Fuck you.”
He withdrew his cock and rubbed it through my folds instead, his fingers still working in my ass.
“I won’t,” I grunted, fisting my hands. “I…”
He leaned over me and tickled my ear with this tongue. “Just say please. Just once.”
“Never!”
“Feels good and tight, Lucia. You’re ready for a good, hard, ass fucking. You want it. I just need the word,”
“You’ll never let me forget it.”
“Think of it, of me pounding into that tight little hole. Think of how sensitive it is, how you’re already so close.” He pulled his cock away from my clit and withdrew his fingers. “But if you don’t want it—”
“Please!”
“Please, what?” he whispered, cock ready at my ass.
“Please fuck my ass.”
I swear I heard him smile.
“I told you you’d do it.”
He kissed my cheek before straightening. He pulled apart my ass cheeks with one hand, smeared lube on his length with the other. How I loved watching him grip his cock. I could just look at that all day long. He grinned and slid the other hand beneath me.
“And you call me dirty.”
I arched my back. “Fuck me already.”
“Up on your elbows. It’s going to be hard and fast.”
I braced myself but couldn’t have been ready for that.
“Good girls get rewarded, Lucia, remember that?”
“Fuck, yes!” His fingers worked my clit roughly while his cock thrust in and out, movements deep, slow at first but increasing in pace as I came, my first orgasm making me cry out, making him thicken inside me until, on the heels of my second orgasm, he thrust one final time and fell over my back, his cock throbbing as he came. He breathed hard against my ear and bit the edge of it just a little too hard, but that nip drew one final, smaller shudder from me.
We clung to each other, neither of us speaking as our breathing slowed. I don’t think either of us took our time together for granted. I knew I never would, and I knew it would never be enough.
We showered afterward before sitting down to eat. I plated the steaks and carried the dish over to the table where Salvatore had just put two beers down. I took a seat across from him.
“You’re really going to eat two steaks now?”
I nodded, ravenous, unsure how to tell him, happy myself but uncertain how he’d feel. We’d only been living together for half a year if I didn’t count the time in New Jersey.
He watched me for a long minute, sipping his beer while I devoured the food. He pushed my untouched beer toward me. I met his gaze but popped another bite of meat into my mouth instead of going for the beer.
“Lucia?”
He could always read me like a book.
“I’m pregnant.”Salvatore’s EpilogueThree Months After ThatI married Lucia on the beach in our backyard. Lucia walking toward me barefoot, her belly swollen, wearing a simple, flowing white dress bound by golden thread just beneath her breasts and a crown of flowers in her hair, was probably the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I’d never been so happy in my life.
We wrote our own vows, and she blamed hormones when she wept throughout the ceremony. Luke and Isabella were our witnesses and Effie our flower girl. That was all. No other guests apart from the priest who married us. Afterward, we barbecued and swam and talked about baby names and about Isabella and Luke moving closer. Effie spoke more to her little cousin inside Lucia’s belly than to anyone else. She may have been as excited as Lucia and I were.
They spent the night and drove back home the next afternoon. We didn’t have a honeymoon. There was nowhere either of us wanted to be but here. Together.
