Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Me.
When I was close, Alexei pulled me against his hard body, curled his hand around my nape, and led me into the shower. He held me in his arms, keeping me steady beneath the spray. Relief spread through my body almost immediately, loosening the tightness in my hips and thighs, easing the lingering ache between my legs.
He kept one arm firmly around my waist while the other reached for the soap. His hands moved slowly over my skin in slow, careful strokes as he washed me almost reverently. I closed my eyes as he slid his fingers along my shoulders and down my back before moving lower, washing me with the quiet focus of a man tending to something that belonged to him.
And when his hands reached the inside of my thighs, my breath stuttered before I held it in.
His slick fingers parted my folds gently under the water, cleaning the stickiness of last night from my swollen pussy with slow, possessive strokes. Two thick fingers slipped just inside me, not fucking, just feeling the tender heat of where he’d ruined me.
His touch was gentle, far more careful than the night before, and the warmth of his palm soothed the soreness of my pussy rather than aggravating it. He pressed me against the shower tiles and watched my face closely as he cleaned me, his expression serious, as though measuring my reaction to every movement.
“God, you are so fucking perfect,” he hummed in approval, and I couldn’t help but gasp at the praise.
He dropped to his knees, and before I could suck in a breath, his mouth replaced his fingers, tongue dragging slowly over my sore clit before licking deeper, tasting the mix of us that was no doubt still left inside of me.
“Still so fucking sweet,” he growled against my pussy. “Even after I made you mine last night.”
With one more lick to my pussy, he rose and reached for the shampoo next, working it into my hair with slow, steady movements that eased the tension from my scalp.
This simple act felt deeply personal, far more intimate than I expected, and a quiet sigh slipped from my lips as his fingers massaged carefully through the strands. He stilled briefly at the sound.
His gaze settled on me, dark and steady, but something in it shifted, something deeper than hunger, something that felt a lot more dangerous.
His hand slid from my hair to the back of my neck, fingers curling there, not tight but firm enough that I felt it.
Felt him.
“And now you’re mine,” he murmured. “Forever. My Italian princess. My wife. My obsession.”
This wasn’t something that would fade because whatever this was between us… it was only just beginning.
Chapter Eleven
Lucia
Our honeymoon began the following evening, a private flight to Italy where I’d spend a week in seclusion with my new husband.
The cabin was built for privacy, with soft leather seats, polished wood, and low lighting that gave everything an expensive feel.
This was normal for Alexei, I thought. I could tell from the way he moved, from the ease in his posture, from the fact that nothing about this environment seemed to register as anything out of the ordinary.
It wasn’t the same for me, even though I had grown up around wealth and power. I was the daughter of a powerful man in the mafia, but females in my world were ornamental. We were pawns.
Alexei didn’t speak much once we boarded, but he didn’t need to. The moment we sat down, his hand settled on my thigh, fingers spread slightly as if there was no question about whether they would stay there.
The weight of it grounded me in a way I hadn’t expected, steady and constant, and no matter how many times I shifted or adjusted my position, he moved with me without looking, like he was aware of every small change I made.
His fingers slowly crept higher under the hem of my dress, tracing possessive circles against my bare skin, brushing dangerously close to where I was still sore and tender.
I thought back to hours before when we’d still been in the suite and we’d finished showering.
I’d caught him staring at the bed as I finished dressing. Alexei had stood motionless at the foot of it, gaze locked on the white sheets that were ruined now… marked with streaks and smears of pink where my virgin blood had mixed with his cum.
The evidence of what he’d taken from me the night before was impossible to miss, and the sight of it seemed to hold him captive.
A dark, satisfied glint flashed through his eyes as he reached down and ran his fingers slowly over one of the dried pink stains. When he looked up at me, his voice was rough and utterly possessive.
“Look at that, princess. Your blood on my sheets. Proof that I was the first—the only—man to ever stretch that tight little Italian cunt open. I should have them framed so I can hang it in my office and jerk off to the memory.”