Page 155 of Lovely Venom

His lips brush my ear as he fucks me softly. “You love taking my cum like a good little wife, don’t you, baby?”

Electricity sparks through my veins, sending a current of heat straight through me. I couldn’t lie right now even if I wanted to. So I just go ahead and blurt it out.

“God, yes.”

“Say you’re mine, cara.”

I don’t know what it means for our future. There are still a thousand uncertainties hanging over our heads. But right now, nothing else matters. After the hell of the last two days, I’ll take however long I get, even if it kills me in the end.

“I’m yours, Cristian.”

“Sei sempre stata mia.” He kisses the words against my lips.

“I really have to learn Italian,” I answer on a shaky breath.

A lazy smile plays across his face as he kisses his way down my throat. He keeps going, teeth scraping over my sensitive skin as the tension in our bodies rises.

We’re both so close, I’m hovering on the edge of agony.

And then he just comes right out and says it.

“I’m ready to be a father, gattina. Are you ready to make me one?”

Oh, Jesus.

I let out what can only be a sound of agreement as I freefall into an orgasm, my body clamping down around him so hard, it unravels him right along with me.

His muscles contract, fingers biting into my flesh as he comes with a deep, masculine sound of pleasure. It sets off a series of aftershocks for both of us, and he draws it out with slow, languid thrusts that continue long after he’s filled me with his release.

There’s an undeniable charge in the air as we come down from what I just admitted. There’s no point in denying it. I’ve been letting him fuck me bare, pretending I could compartmentalize it. But we both know it was never going to be an accident.

I just can’t bring myself to say it out loud when he’s not fucking these confessions out of me. So, I deflect.

“We have to shower. Everybody’s waiting on us.”

He seems completely unbothered as his hands roam over me without any particular destination. “They’ll be fine for a while longer.”

Closing my eyes, I melt against him until eventually, he does actually take me to the shower.

I have every intention of getting him to brunch. But as I wash him, I register the full extent of his cuts and bruises, and I get emotional all over again.

After some more tears, he comforts me, which turns into sex against the wall.

Needless to say, I probably won’t be able to walk today, but it’s worth it.

As we’re drying off, my eyes drift to the geometric shape on his chest, and I remember what he said the first time I mentioned it. I asked him what it meant, and he said irony.

Now, I think I finally get it.

“It’s Corvus, isn’t it?”

Something dark and possessive flickers in his eyes as he nods. “So much fucking irony.”

I let that sink in, and I don’t know what else to say other than he’s right. It’s not even the fact that God apparently custom-printed me just for him, constellation and all. It’s how I chose Morrigan the raven goddess at Sanctum, and he knew all along. It’s how that theme has continually woven us together, even when I didn’t know it.

It took almost losing him for me to see everything so clearly.

And now that I do, I’m quite certain irony has never tasted so sweet.