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With no ability to touch her, my patience wore thin more quickly than normal.
"No fair," she laughed as I rolled her to the side. Laying her out on her back in the lounge, I grabbed her behind the knee and shoved it high. Leaving her pussy on display for me as I filled her with my cock, she threw her head back on a moan.
"You're probably touching bodily fluids," I pointed out with a chuckle.
"Please," she scoffed. "I disinfected the entire room before I called you in."
Laughter broke free from my chest as I buried my face in her neck and pounded myself inside her so hard that she forgot her sass for a few minutes.
That she forgot everything but me long enough to chase her own orgasm. Her left hand stretched up to grab mine, our matching wedding band tattoos stark against our skin in black ink. Her unique onyx wedding rings hung from a chain at her neck, always with her, even during the times when she couldn't wear them on her fingers.
Sliding my other hand underneath her left shoulder to hold her steady as I increased the force of my thrusts, my fingers brushed over the small round scar.
The sign of her bravery. Of her selflessness for those she loved.
I flooded her with my heat, sending her tumbling into her own orgasm in turn. She cried out my name as I groaned, stilling my body above hers as we caught our breath.
"Love you, Lorenzo," she murmured.
Six months later, and it still filled me with complete fullness to hear her form the words that had been hard fought to earn. We weren’t perfect. We had jagged little edges that cut each other sometimes. Her insecurities. My sleeping habits.
But they were getting better slowly. I went to bed with her in my arms every night. I woke up with her in my arms every morning. Sometimes, I woke up on the floor, after she handed my monster his ass.
She was mine. I was hers.
Ride or die.
And nobody would ever change that.
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Continue reading for a sneak peek into Scarred Regrets. Please note: This is unedited and subject to change.
Scarred Regrets Sneak Peek
Scar
Six Months Earlier
I'd lived through hell. I thought I'd seen the worst life offered in my years on the streets, but watching her twine her hips against another man's was a new brand of torture. The sparkling violet fabric of her mini dress shimmered in the neon lights as her eyes landed on mine.
Watching me. Testing me.
Everything she did was a show and a push, but Irina didn't understand that I'd never be able to give her what she wanted.
Hands trailed over her hips, clutching her tightly in a grasp that hinted at all the desperation she brought out in men. A tantalizing taste of the kinds of pleasures we didn't deserve. Of her flawless light brown skin that she inherited from her Greek mother. Of the vibrant light green eyes that contrasted her dark hair and medium skin in an almost feline fashion.
