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“All we have to do is make sure Enzo and the girl steer clear. Everything else is going to work itself out. At least, that’s what he says.”
Steer clear of what? I’m so curious and concerned that I can almost forget modesty and stroll right out to the top of the stairs to ask them to elaborate.
Before I can do any such stupid thing, though, an arm snakes around my waist. I gasp, going stiff when Enzo pulls me against his chest.
“Sneaking away from me?” he murmurs, his lips brushing my earlobe. It causes a fluttering sensation in my core, and I can almost forget my soreness when he runs a hand over my hip and down my thigh.
“I wanted to get dressed,” I whisper, “but I didn’t want the guys down there to see me pass the top of the stairs.”
“I like you better like this.” He pulls me away from the door and closes it before bringing me back to the bed. “Plus, the thought of anyone else seeing you like this would make me irate, and I’d have to remove their eyes from their heads with a dull butter knife. I doubt you want to be responsible for someone else's death.”
“Enzo…” I groan, trying to be playful when really, I’m trying to be strong. Sure, my overworked pussy is ready and willing to go for another round, but my brain is another story. This can’t keep happening. I can’t make this easy for him.
“That’s right. I love it when you say my name. But I prefer hearing it when I’m between your legs.” I have no choice but to sit down on the bed when he puts me there, then lie back as he lowers himself over me before planting hot, lingering kisses along my throat and chest. Every touch of his lips undoes me a little more, loosening the knots holding me together, ruining my resolve until I’m writhing and whimpering.
“I’m still so sore,” I whisper, trying halfheartedly to make him stop. As if to prove it, he places a hand over my pussy, and I wince at the contact.
“You’re also wet,” he replies, grinning devilishly when I blush in embarrassment. “So something tells me you don’t really mind it that much.”
I’m never going to win, am I? He’ll always have a way to come back at anything I try to use against him. All I can do is breathe deep as he parts my legs and looks down at what’s between them.
He bites his lip, his nostrils flaring. “That’s fucking insane.” With one hand, he strokes himself, staring down at me while he hardens.
“What is?”
“You missed a few spots.” He runs a finger over my sensitive flesh, and I gasp before sighing as the sweetest pleasure ripples through me. “It’s on my cock, too. Your virgin blood.”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry—” I try to sit up, but he places a firm hand against my chest, pushing me back.
“I didn’t say you had to apologize. Seeing this is hot as fuck. Reminding me I’m the man who claimed your pussy first. Your virginity is mine, as all your other firsts will be.”
He lowers himself onto his forearms and aligns himself with me. Pressing the head of his cock against me, he pushes inside, and I tense up, my nails digging into his shoulders. At the expense of causing me pain, he watches my face, encouraging me with praise, and takes it slow, inching his way inside, groaning once he’s seated completely, and I can feel every bit of him. I hate myself for liking it so much. For craving it.
“Say it,” he whispers in my ear, pulling back to fill me again. “Say it’s mine, and nobody can ever have it.”
“Yours. It’s yours,” I agree, my mouth falling open when he rolls his hips, and my body shivers at the delicious friction. His base rubs against my clit before he pulls back to do it again and again.
He props himself up on his palms, still working slowly, and I look down between us to watch his abs and shoulders work. I run my hands over them, marveling at how they move under his skin and the way they bunch and flex. As beautiful as he is when he’s asleep, there’s something almost miraculous about him now. I’m sure the heat building in my pussy with every slow, deliberate thrust has something to do with that.
“Is my cock going to make you come again?” he teases, his half-lidded eyes locking onto mine. “Look at me. I want you looking at me when you come. I want to watch.”
Is there anybody who could resist something like that? And the deep, primal sensuality of his voice only pushes me closer to the edge. Watching him, feeling him, hearing him—it all builds up together until I’m helpless against it, riding a wave of sensation that starts to crest before I know what’s happening.
“That’s right,” he grunts, his breathing faster now. “Tighten up for me, baby. Milk my cock. Take every drop. I don’t want a drop wasted.”
But should I? Is this right? Am I only going to end up regretting this? Those thoughts are quickly pushed aside when the tension finally breaks, and I gasp in surprise and pleasure as bliss washes over me, rippling through my arms and legs and every inch of my body.
“Good girl,” he grunts, losing his rhythm and driving himself harder and faster until he throws his head back and goes still, growling through clenched teeth, his face flushing and tendons standing out on his neck before he finally collapses onto his forearms and rolls away.
I feel it, then. The wetness. His seed. It’s on my thighs and dripping out of me. Dammit. What am I supposed to do? He can’t keep coming inside me. Does the man have a problem with condoms or something? I know better than to bring it up. We’ve never discussed the use of protection, even though I know we should.
Maybe once we’re married, I’ll have a little more leeway. Maybe I can use Plan B or something like that when he refuses to pull out.
Because there is no way I’m going to be stuck in this insane family for the rest of my life. A baby with Enzo would be an end for me.
26
ENZO
