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Her mouth opens to speak, but her words stop in her throat when I drag two fingers up her slit, decorating my digits with the climax that clings to her cunt.
I move onto the bed, my wet fingers trailing the lines of the cross dangling from my neck. “Spread your legs for me.”
Knees up, she does as I ask, opening her thighs wide enough to let me slide between them.
Hands sliding over her silky skin, they stop when they reach the magical part of her body where her thighs move into her apex.
Grabbing my cock, I slide the head up and down her pussy, coating myself in her juices. She moans, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.
“Watch, Alessia,” I murmur. “Watch me fucking claim you in a way no man has had the balls to do before.”
Coming up on her elbows, she settles her eyes on my cock, her lips parting in a silent gasp.
“That’s my girl.” I push my tip inside her, watching her gluttonous cunt swallow it with ease.
“Oh!”
A smirk finds its way onto my lips, and I can’t recall a time I’ve ever been as close to ecstasy as I am now. Nothing has felt as important as breaching my wife’s pussy for the very first time.Hervery first time. Now, I understand Vincent’s and Lorenzo’s obsessions. I don’t think I’d ever be able to go back to fucking nameless women again. Not after experiencing the perfection of Alessia.AndI’m not even fully sheathed.
She watches me thrust forward and back, moving deeper into her with every slice of my hips. Her face is open with awe, every touch of pleasure, shock, discomfort, connection, and desire free for me to claim.
She breathes purposefully through her nose when the pain hits too hard, and she rolls her hips, pulling away from me. Grasping her tightly, I keep her close. “Stay with me, Sia.”
“Stay,” she whispers. Her hips arch upward, swallowing more of me.
“That’s it,” I praise.
When I’m buried completely, I pause, taking a moment to enjoy the ecstasy coursing through my veins. Fireworks explode up my spine, erupting against my rib cage and startling my heart. I rub at my sternum and grab the cross at my chest, centering myself.
“Diego.”
I look at her. “Hmm?”
“Are you going to move?”
I swallow. “You feelin’ okay?”
She nods, the gentle movement softening my resolve.
I grind inside her, rolling my hips.
She gasps with pleasured surprise, and I groan.
I move slowly. A tender back and forth rock in and out of her wet heat. I roll my hips in languid circles. I let Sia adjust to the intrusion of my body in and against hers. She takes every shift and drive with a serene eagerness. She’s taking my lead, but her body refuses to lay dormant. Her hips raise to meet mine and follow my lead, maximizing the grind of our bodies. She takes our pleasure and sings its praises with moans and gasps and whispered words of prayer.
Yes.
Please.
Like that.
More.
Diego.
Di-ego.
The queen of Chicago begs me to break her, and the power that stems from that intimate knowledge is enough to place me on a throne, one cast in velvet skin with thighs that circle my waist and a warm cunt throbbing and dripping with humble submission. Alessia Greco may be sovereign of her city, but when we’re alone, she’s all but declared me her king. And I’ll happily genuflect in front of her followers, knowing that behind closed doors, she’ll drop to both knees in nothing but her metaphorical crown and beg me for worship.
