Page 47 of Ruined Through Obsession

"I am simply admiring my handiwork," I reply, nodding toward the courtyard. "My brothers look like domesticated men. It is a rather entertaining spectacle."

"They look like men who finally realize what it means to be happy," Elena corrects, her dark eyes softening as she traces the line of my jaw. "And you look like a man who is severely overstaying his welcome at his own reception."

A smirk curves my mouth as her underlying implication hits my brain. "Are you attempting to command your husband to abandon our guests, Don Vitiello?"

"I am commanding you to take me home," she challenges, her hips pressing suggestively against my cock. "I have spent the last three hours smiling and drinking champagne, and my patience for civilized behavior is officially expired. Take me back to the penthouse, Enzo."

31

Elena

The door to the penthouse clicks shut, sealing us inside our sanctuary and cutting off the sprawling, chaotic celebration we left behind at the basilica. The Boston skyline glitters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but my eyes are locked exclusively on the man shedding his tuxedo jacket.

Enzo tosses the garment onto the nearest sofa and turns toward me. He crosses the room with wide strides, closing the distance until his chest brushes against the ivory silk of my wedding gown. He reaches out, his large hands gripping my hips, and hauls me flush against his groin, letting me feel the rigid, aching proof of his arousal straining beneath his tailored trousers.

"You have been driving me insane for the past six hours," he growls against my mouth, his fingers tangling in the intricate twists of my pinned hair. "I watched every bastard in that courtyard stare at you, and it took every ounce of my restraint not to gouge their eyes out. You are my wife. Mine."

"Then stop talking and show me," I challenge, leaning up to bite his lower lip.

I pull the plush flesh between my teeth, sucking hard enough to draw a harsh, guttural groan from the back of his throat. He parts my lips effortlessly, his tongue sweeping into my mouth in a wet, dominating slide that tastes of vintage scotch and wedding cake. We devour each other, our tongues sliding and wrestling for control. I moan into his mouth, my fingernails scoring a path down the strong muscles of his back through the thin fabric of his dress shirt.

He spins us around, marching me backward until my spine hits the cool, solid surface of the corridor wall. His hands move to the hidden zipper at the back of my gown, dragging it down with an impatient, forceful yank. The ivory silk and tulle pool around my ankles, leaving me clad only in a white lace garter belt, sheer thigh-high stockings, and the matching lace panties I selected specifically to torture him.

Enzo steps back just enough to survey the prize he just claimed. His irises dilate, swimming with a lust so potent it makes my knees genuinely weak.

"Fucking flawless," he praises with a purr.

He drops to his knees right in front of me on the plush carpet. My breath hitches as his hands wrap around the backs of my thighs, pulling my legs slightly apart. He presses his face directly into my stomach, placing open-mouthed kisses along my hipbones, before his teeth catch the edge of my lace panties. He pulls the delicate fabric down, tearing the side seam with a violent jerk, and discards the ruined lace over his shoulder.

I am soaking wet, crying for his touch, humming with need. He presses his mouth directly against my swollen pussy.

A loud, shameless scream tears from my throat as his tongue lashes against my clitoris. He spreads my folds with his thumbs, utilizing a firm, sucking pressure that makes my hips buck uncontrollably against his face. I tangle my hands in his dark hair, trying to anchor myself, but the pleasure is too chaotic. He slides two fingers inside my wet cunt, thrusting with increasing speed, while his mouth continues to mercilessly devour me.

"Enzo, please," I sob, my thighs trembling as the ecstasy builds into a knot in my lower belly.

He pulls back, his mouth gleaming with my wetness, and stands up. He sheds his trousers and shirt, and frees his thick, jutting cock. He lifts me effortlessly off the floor, my legs automatically wrapping around his narrow waist, my silk stockings sliding against his bare skin. He carries me into the master suite, tossing me onto the center of the plush mattress.

I bounce against the pillows, my chest heaving as I watch him crawl over my body. He cages me beneath his towering frame, aligning his broad head at my weeping entrance.

"I am going to worship you until you forget every nightmare you ever survived," he vows, his eyes locking onto mine.

He drives his hips forward, sinking into me to the hilt. I cry out his name.

"Fuck," he swears, his hot breath fanning across my face.

He begins to move, and I lock my ankles behind his back to pull him even further inside of me.

"You are so sweet, so wet for me," he praises.

I respond with a drawn-out moan and the tightening of my walls.

“Don’t do that, you minx,” he kisses the tears from my eyes and licks my lips.

“So…so good,” I gasp.

His hips make a circular motion as he thrusts, hitting my spot over and over again till I am chasing out the oxygen in my lungs.

“Enzo,” I whimper.