It doesn’t matter.
I don’t care.
Why am I surprised?
My mind is being pulled into a thousand different directions as I turn from Yasmin and the boy to leave, storming across the living room of the common area until I reach the bedroom.
I throw open the door to the room I share with my wife, pacing in front of the bed, my fingers gripping my hair so tight it feels like I’ll pull out every strand.
Logically, I know she wasn’t kissing him. I saw her spin around and the way she didn’t respond. Emotionally, it doesn’t fucking matter.
The thought of him having tasted her, having touched her while she’s wearing my ring makes me violently angry, and it’s taking every single ounce of self- control to not go back there and rip his tongue from his body.
Groaning, I run my hands down my face as I try—and fail— to convince myself one last time that it doesn’t matter. That she can choose him, and I’ll survive, the way I have every other time I wasn’t someone’s choice.
Go get her.
Stay.
Fuck.
I smack the sides of my face and stalk toward the door, about to find her and grab her caveman style, throw her over my shoulder, and spank her ass until it’s black and blue for thinking that I’d ever let her leave.
But the door flies open before I can, and there she is standing on the other side, looking like a goddess sent to hell. She storms in, her eyes blazing like a thousand suns, and she slams the door behind her.
“Just who the fuck do you think you are?” she asks, marching up to me and shoving her hands against my chest.
I reach out and grasp her wrists, halting her assault. But really, I’ll revel in the pain as long as I get to touch her.
“You don’t get to do that,” she spits. “You don’t get to see something and leave before we talk.”
“I’ll do whatever the hell I want,” I grit out.
She huffs. “Classic Julian Faraci. So afraid of letting the little boy inside heal that you throw up walls and shelter him from even living.”
Anger punches me straight in the gut. “Watch your mouth.”
“You watch yours,” she hisses.
I tighten my grip on her wrists, her glare stripping every pretense away until I feel naked and vulnerable beneath her gaze.
“I’m trying to do what’s best for you,” I bite out. “And sometimes that means walking away.”
“Well, I’m sick and tired of every man in my life thinking they know what’s best for me.” She struggles in my hold, trying to break free so she can shove at me again. “Guess what, asshole. There’s this little thing called free will. You should try to let people have it.”
I bite back the amusement that’s trying to break through the rage, my cock hardening from the way her body is squirming against me. I adjust my hold on her, walking her backward, energy wrapping around us like a rope and pulling tight until it’s hard to breathe.
Her back slams against the closed door and I press myself flush to her, the soft curves of her body fitting perfectly against the hard planes of mine, separated only by her arms, which are being held in my grasp between us.
Dipping down, I rest my lips against hers, not kissing, just existing in the same place, her breaths becoming my oxygen. If I stand here for long enough, I wonder if I could fill myself with her.
“I’m no good for you, gattina. I bribe and blackmail and kill. I will hurt you. I have hurt you.”
“I don’t care,” she whispers. “I forgive you.”
Shaking my head, frustrated that she doesn’t get the point, I move her hands until they’re above her head, pressing them tightly into the wood of the door. Her chest brushes against my torso, moving in and out with her unsteady breaths of air.
“You should,” I reply. “That boy out there, he’s got history with you that I’ll never have. Moments that will forever live in your memory, snapshots you’ve taken to freeze the feeling for when you start to forget.” I press my lips to hers, drowning myself in the torture of almost tasting her the way I crave. “He’s got all your firsts, and that’s something I won’t ever get. But I don’t want them,” I whisper against her mouth. “I don’t care to have your awkward moments or your shaky promises and your fumbling hands. And do you know why?”
“No,” she breathes, her eyes glossing over with tears.
“Because I don’t love you like he does.”
She whimpers, twisting her head away. I drop one of her hands, ignoring the way she immediately tries to shove me back, and I grip her cheek tightly, angling her so I can press my face against the side of hers, my lips ghosting across her jaw. I’m pinning her to the door with my body, and her hands are fisting the fabric of my shirt, clenching and releasing, like she can’t decide if she wants to drag me closer or push me away.
“My love for you is dangerous.”
A heavy breath whooshes from her mouth, a tear rolling from her eye, dripping over the back of my knuckles. I move, pressing a kiss to her wet cheek to soak up her cries.
“I would kill anyone who looked at you. Anyone who dared to even breathe too close.”
Her body shakes against mine.
“I want your blood and your anger and your violence and your lust.” My thumb brushes against her bottom lip. “I want your smiles and your tears and your insolent fucking mouth.”
She pulls me in until there’s no space between us, her breasts grazing against my torso with every shaky exhale.
“I want to reach into your chest and hold your heart in my hands, making sure it only beats for me,” I rasp. “But I don’t want your firsts, Yasmin. I want your forever.”
She lets out a cry, her hands clawing into me like she can’t get close enough, but I resist, jerking back as I fight against her hold. I move my other hand up until I’m cupping her face, making sure she meets my eyes.
“You’re an angel, gattina. And I’ll break your wings just to keep you by my side. So do us both a favor and walk. The fuck. Away.”
I release her then, but before I can even move, she’s on me, her mouth slamming into mine, her limbs wrapping around me as she jumps into my arms. She bites and sucks and licks, and I give it back in equal measure because after everything I just said, after I’ve cut myself open and bled out on the floor at her feet, she’s still here.
And I don’t have the will to fight it anymore.
“Stop telling me what to do,” she demands in between her kisses.
I grin against her lips, my hands gripping her ass to hold her tightly to me as she breaks her lips away and licks down the side of my jaw, then sinks her teeth into the skin of my neck. I groan, my cock pulsing.
“You think I’m not the same?” she says into my skin.
Pulling back, she looks at me, her eyes wide and open and so fucking beautiful it makes me lose my breath.
“I want your laughter and your tears and your smiles too.” She brushes a finger against my lip. “I want your broody stares and your fucked- up morals and your obnoxious need to always tell me what to do.”
My body warms, blood pumping so fast I feel like my heart might explode from my chest.
She looks me in the eye, gripping my jaw with both of her hands, her legs still wrapped around my waist. “I’m in love with you, Julian Faraci. And I would burn the world myself if it meant I could keep you by my side.”
Something cracks open in my chest, flooding through my insides like rushing water, clearing away everything else that ever mattered outside of her.
I spin us around and slam her down on the bed, ripping her clothes off clumsily, unable to focus on anything other than the need that’s raging through me, pulsing with the beat of my heart to take her, fuck her, claim her. My fingers dig into her sides and glide up her body, tearing her sleep shirt off her supple frame.
Her nipples are pebbled and fucking perfect, and I need them in my mouth immediately, so I lean down and suck one of them between my lips, swirling my tongue around the nub and sinking in my teeth because I want to hear her moan.
She responds beautifully, her back arching and her hands flying to the back of my head, pressing me further into her skin. My cock pulses, precum beading from the tip and soaking into my briefs.
My other hand moves down her sternum, tracing patterns on her torso before reaching the hem of her sweats and sliding the soft fabric down her legs, my mouth never losing its rhythm on her breast.
She lifts her hips and I draw her underwear down next, tossing them somewhere behind me, needing to see her naked and splayed out before me like an offering.
Because that’s what she is. That’s what she’s doing.
Offering herself to me.
Finally, I release her nipple, pulling back and tearing myself away from her hold, sitting back on my legs and gazing down at her.
I’ve had her sweet cunt in my mouth and her taste on my tongue, but this is the first time I’ve seen her completely naked.
She’s so beautiful it hurts.
“Julian,” she pleads, squirming on the bed, her eyes heady.
“Don’t interrupt me while I’m staring at my wife,” I purr, unbuckling my belt and lowering my pants until my cock pops out, hard and aching.
Reaching down, I grip my shaft, the length jumping in my palm when I imagine what it will feel like to slip between her legs and bury myself inside her.
“I like it when you call me that,” she says, biting on her lower lip.
I smirk, nudging her legs farther apart as I move closer, and then I reach forward with my free hand, pulling on her chin until she lets go of the skin.
“Don’t mar these pretty lips, amore mio,” I say, hovering over her and skimming my mouth across hers, my cock twitching in my palm. “I have plans for them.”
She reaches out, her fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt. She undoes them one by one, and I breathe deeply, allowing her to slip it off my shoulders and run her fingers across the expanse of my chest.
Pinpricks of feeling skate along my skin with her touch, and I fight against the intrinsic urge to push her away, to hold her down and control the situation.
She runs her hands over my shoulders and down my arms until she grips my cock, her palm covering my own. “Show me how you like it.”
I release my shaft and let her fingers wrap around it, the feel of her on my skin making my body buzz. I cover her hand with mine, moving us slowly up the length of me and then back down, my nuts drawing up from the visual of her beneath me and stroking my cock.
More moisture beads at the tip and she swipes her thumb over the head, smearing it down the sides and using it as lubrication as my hand falls away and she takes over jacking me off.
“You’re so big,” she states.
I stop her movements, grabbing her fingers in mine and pressing her hands above her head, the same way I had them earlier when we were up against the door. Leaning down, I flatten my body to hers, her heart beating against my chest and her breaths puffing out against my lips as my cock teases the wet entrance to her pussy.
“And you’ll take every inch, won’t you, good girl?”
Her hips thrust up, trying to get me inside her, and fuck, my eyes roll back in my head from just the thought of sliding into her wet cunt.
“Fuck me like a whore,” she moans, running her slit along the length of my cock, making it drenched from her arousal.
“You’re not a whore.”
Her legs push against my frame and then wrap around my back, pulling me into her, my dick lined up perfectly at her entrance, and her eyes lock on mine. “I’m your whore.”
Jesus.
And that’s all it takes to send me off the rails. I push forward with my hips, sliding inside her, her pussy wrapping around me like it was made to fit my cock.
She moans, her mouth gaping and her eyes rolling as her back arches.
I lean down as I start a rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, going insane with the need to be as far inside her as I can get, my hands pressing hers so harshly into the mattress I’m sure it’s cutting off circulation.
“Harder,” she pants, her hips moving in sync with mine.
I release her fingers, dragging my palm over her hair and down her face until I’ve wrapped it around her throat, squeezing on the sides just enough to lift her off the bed, making her lips hit mine with every forward thrust.
“You take my cock so well, gattina.”
There’s a sheen of sweat on both of our bodies as I fuck up into her, and my heart pounds against my rib cage as I piston my hips, pleasure building at the base of my spine and curling outward until my muscles tense up.
“I’m about to come inside you,” I say, my fingers flexing around her neck. “Fill you up and make sure it sticks, so I can tie you to me in every way and make sure you never leave.”
She whimpers, her legs trembling from where they’re wrapped around my back, urging me forward every time I drive deep inside her.
“Would you like that, amore mio?”
She groans, her mouth parted in ecstasy.
The walls of her pussy clench around my dick, and my balls tighten in response. My other hand finally lets hers go and tangles in her hair, my palm cupping the side of her face tightly. I bend down and press a hard kiss to her lips. “Tell me you want my cum. Beg for it.”
“Fill me up,” she begs. “I need it, Julian, please, I— ”
And then she’s coming, her cunt squeezing and releasing my shaft, a scream escaping from her pouty lips as she plasters herself against me.
Her words are my undoing, the vision of her swelling with my child and being bound to me forever too much for me to take.
My body tenses and then releases in an explosion, and I push myself as deep as I can go, feeling my cock pulse with heavy throbs as I come deep inside her, collapsing my sweaty body on top of hers.
Our hearts syncopate, beating in time, and I rest my head on her chest, her fingers playing in the strands of my hair as I wrap my arms around her.
I’ve never felt so content.
And this feeling? I don’t want it to leave. I won’t ever let it go.
Because it feels like she’s choosing me.
And she’s the only one who ever has.
