“Hold on, lottatrice mia,” I bellowed, edging the engine even faster to put as much space between us and the enemy boat as possible.
There was a curve in the cliffside just before the grotto. We’d have maybe six to ten seconds of invisibility before they rounded the corner behind us.
Just enough time to slip into the rock crevice.
“Dante,” Elena called, panic finally edging into her tone as we aimed headlong at the rock.
The cave was visible from this angle. It was only a shadow, a secret tucked between two bulging stones.
“Dante!”
I didn’t answer because it was a tight maneuver. One second, we were gunning toward the cove and the next, I cut the engine entirely, twisting the wheel just enough to nose directly into the thin gap.
Elena screamed.
Two second later, we were between the mountains, only clearly the rock by inches on either side.
It was suddenly quiet, the outside world muffled by the white stone walls and deep, sapphire waters.
“Dio mio,” Elena breathed from behind me as I ducked under a low stalagmite.
When I turned, she was sitting against the back row of seats, the gun held loosely in one hand, her head tipped up to look at the ceiling as the grotto finally opened up into a wide, low cave.
“How did you know this was here?” she asked in awe.
I moved to the bow to release the anchor, the chains rattling through my hands as the heavy metal fell to the depths, caught on the rocky ground and held.
“There are grottos all along the coast,” I offered as I moved back to the stern, looking over her. “We used to explore them with Chiara and Tore as boys.”
Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with adrenaline. If it hadn’t been obvious to me before, it was now that my woman got turned on by danger.
We stared at each other for a long moment, the tension between us crackling and popping like blazing kindling.
We moved at the same time.
She surged up as I bent down, hauling her into my arms against my chest. Her wedding dress was sea soaked and plastered to her form, her nipples hard as pebbles beneath the cold silk. Her lips were cold too, but her tongue was hot against mine, her mouth silken as I plundered it ruthlessly. I needed the taste of her to cool the rage biting at the back of my throat, threatening to overwhelm me. The feel of her worked strange alchemy on the fury and transmuted it into desire that razed through me until all I knew was her.
I growled as her hands pulled my shirt at of my trousers, nails raking over my abs then down my groin as she pulled my hard length into her palm. Trapped between my waistband and my belly, she could only squeeze, barely moving just pulsing her grip in time with my throbbing heartbeat.
It made me crazy.
I licked at her lips, sucking and biting them until they were swollen, ripe with my bruising kisses. When I was done marking that mouth, I moved to her neck, down to her exposed chest in that understated but sexy as fuck gown. When I reached the fabric of the straight cut neckline, I rolled it down her arms, trapping them at her sides while exposing her tight breasts to my scrutiny.
She let me cage her in the wedding dress, lashes fluttering as she fought to keep her eyes open and on me while I lavished her nipples with my teeth and tongue.
We didn’t speak even though I loved to tell her how I would fuck her, how she was responding to me. The cave was mostly dark, lit by an eerie light that swam up through the depthless blue waters and cast the entire cave in a neon glow. It lent itself to silence, to a quiet, urgent conquest of each other’s bodies underscored only by our harsh breaths and the light lap of water against the rocking boat.
Her breasts heated with my ministrations, the skin red even in the blue light thanks to my teeth and the rasp of my five o’clock shadow. I plumped both swells in my hands and alternated between the two, treating each like a decadent feast.
“Dio mio, Dante,” she finally panted softly. “I think I could come just from this.”
“Bene,” I growled against her trembling flesh. “This is how a man loves a woman with his body, Lena. He takes his time to pull her apart seam by seam until she is unravelled completely in his arms.”
She shuddered a I finally bent to find the hem of her dress and dragged it up, up, up, to tuck the end into the fabric gathered under her breasts so it would stay up.
My hand went straight to her sex, cupping the wet, swollen mount in my palm. My thumb pressed over her clit and rolled, the wet fabric of her underwear providing hot friction. She seeped through the satin and over my fingers, thighs trembling. The other went to her throat, thumb at her pulse to feel the way it kicked for me.
“Moglie mia,” I whispered against her bruised mouth. “My wife.”
“Yes,” she hissed, shivering as I hooked my fingers in the elastic of the panties and dipped two inside her. “Please, Dante, don’t tease me. I need you to fill me up. I need my husband to fuck me until my even my teeth ache.”
I groaned, shuddering at the chains broke and the bestial side of me emerged. Before I could think, I was tearing open my belt and trousers, bringing my aching cock into the open. Elena tried to reach for it, but I slapped her hand away and lifted her into my arms inside. I moved to sit on the bench seat and brought her down on top of me, pausing to wedge my head at her sopping entrance.
“Ride me,” I told her, leaning back to pluck at those distended red nipples. “Ride your husband and show him how much you love his cock inside you. Filling that tight, greedy pussy.”
She gasped at my words then took her lip between her teeth, balancing precariously because he arms were still trapped at her sides. Slowly, fucking excruciatingly, she lowered her cunt inch by inch down my shaft until she was seated fully on top of me. My dick kicked hard inside her tight folds, my balls already drawn tight.
I wanted to pin her hips and fucked up into her, to bruise the walls of her pussy so they ached from me for days because I knew even though we’d conquered our Italian villains, New York still waited on the horizon.
And New York meant we would be apart.
She seemed to sense my eagerness, or maybe it was her own. Her hips set a brutal pace, thighs quivering as she rose and lowered over me, fast and hard as our boat had rolled through the waves outside the grotto. The wet sound of our coupling echoed in the small space, loud and filthy enough to make us both curse with desire.
I leaned forward to take a nipple in my mouth and ravished it unforgivingly with my tongue and teeth. She groaned and quaked, then abruptly erupted all over me, her magma a cool sluicing of cum that dripped down my dick and soaked my balls.
I reached up to put my fingers in her open, panting mouth, wanting to be inside her in every way I could. She sucked on them as she came down from her climax, eyes glazed and heavily lidded but pinned on me. My wife in her rucked-up wedding dress riding me like she’d die if I didn’t fuck her harder, deeper.
“Please.” The word leaked from her mouth as she tried to move faster, but the weight of the wet dress and her own exhaustion stopped her from fucking me the way she wanted. “Per favore.”
She gasped as I moved suddenly, taking her to her back on the bench without losing our connection. I palmed her throat, took her mouth with mine, and I fucked her.
Ruthlessly, almost painfully. The slap of my balls against soaked thighs, the grunt of breath through my laboring lungs and the sweet gasps of her pleasure as I bottomed out again and again inside her.