I did, and he lifted me up, his arms under my behind. We kissed as he moved us toward the bed. Once there, he sat me down, his eyes as greedy as his mouth and fingers.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. “Mia Mariposa.”
I set one foot on each side of him, right above his hips, and once I had a good grip, I shoved his pants down. The length of him sprang free, and I’d never seen anything so erotic—this man standing in front of me naked.
When he started to creep up the bed, I pushed back some, making room for him. His lips came for mine again, while his two strong arms were like bars on either side of my head. He nipped and licked and teased. Then his mouth moved down, his tongue making routes along my skin. He pushed the red silk down, and my body, my breasts, was his for the taking. I pushed against his mouth, wanting more.
The ache between my legs begged to be eased. And I didn’t realize that I was whimpering, moving my hips up, until his hand reached down and touched me there. He whispered something about me being ready, wet and hot, in Italian. A noise that I had no control over trembled from my lips. I didn’t care. I had no shame.
There would be no shame here. He killed it.
The more I responded to him, the more he seemed to want me. When I made noises, his touch would become harder, or his mouth would bite or suck. And when he ripped the gown from my body and flung it across the room, it fluttered like a butterfly that had been set on fire in the darkness.
He leaned back, taking in my naked body with eyes as dark as sapphires.
“Don’t stop,” I breathed out. “Please.”
His hand slid up my body, his fingers caressing my nipples. A soft ahh left my lips and I lifted my hips, begging for him to move further south. His eyes moved down to my oonie, and then he gently parted me, opening me up to him. As he started to touch me, he watched. He watched what he was doing to me, and then he’d watch my face. And when his mouth came against me like it had before, I screamed out in pleasure. I was so close. So close to being shattered by his tongue. But I wanted more. I hungered for all of him, like I’d never hungered for anything before.
“Make me yours, Capo,” I said, breathless.
He knelt over me, his dick in his hand, stroking it. “This what you want?”
“Dominami.” I took a deep breath and it left my mouth in a slow push of air. Dominate me.
“Ti domino.” His voice was low and rough. And I never wanted to forget the look on his face. He was losing control, though somehow, he had every ounce of it on lockdown in this bedroom. “One word, Mariposa.”
“You,” I barely got out. “Inside of me.”
“That’s four.”
“Yes.” Yes. Yes. Yes. YES!
He lowered down, and I opened my legs to accommodate him as he came in between. I could feel the tip of him close to my entrance, and I almost lifted my behind, refusing to wait another second. I wanted to feel him pressed against the fucking ache that wouldn’t quit.
His face was close to mine, and he licked me up to my ear. “This is going to hurt,” he whispered.
All good things are worth bleeding for, I wanted to say, but didn’t. Using no words, I pulled him closer, my nails digging into his back, drawing blood.
Blood for blood.
The violence behind it urged him to move. He entered me slowly, his size stretching, stretching, stretching my walls, and I wasn’t sure if it would ever be comfortable, but I wanted it. I wanted him to fill me up, to move harder, faster. I wanted him to send me over the edge.
He moved in even deeper, and I hissed out a breath. Pain. So much pain. A burning, like a match lit from inside. I was close to crying out, making him take it out, but then he moved in even deeper and the pain subsided, warring with pleasure. He had breached me, went beyond the pale, and moved into a space no one had ever touched before. A strange noise, between a cry and a soft whimper, escaped my lips. That spot he kept hitting, it was like…nothing I’d ever felt before.
“That’s it, mia Mariposa.” His voice was strangled as he slipped in even deeper, every inch of him pushing in on me. “Relax. Fuck. You’re so tight.”
His eyes were lowered, like he was drunk. His forehead was creased. His mouth was parted, and he made a wild noise that came from his throat. I wanted him to make it again. It made me feel powerful, as drunk as he felt. He had made it because of me.
He started to move a little faster, pumping in and out of me, and while he did, his hand came down, between my legs. He dragged the same hand across his chest, over his heart, and it left a smear of bright red blood, the color of the silk that had been ripped from my body.
So many feelings hit me at once.
This. What we were doing.
That. That part of me was still mine to give to whoever I wanted to, and I had given it to this man. My husband.
He put my hand over his heart, where the blood smear was. “We have made vows,” he said in Italian. “But none like this one. This is a blood vow between the two of us. Between our flesh.” He pulled out of me, and then came back, making me lose my breath. “You belong to me in all the ways now, Mariposa.”
It was useless to fight the feeling of being overwhelmed by him. There was no room to move, to hide, to escape him and the intensity, and if I didn’t give over to the pressure, it would split me in two. I couldn’t hold back. A wave of intense pleasure surged inside of me, and I let go, giving over to the sensation. To him. My nails dug into his flesh even harder, my back arched, and I cried out. He seemed to swallow my pleasure without his lips even touching mine.
My entire body trembled, draining me of everything but him. The pain was there, still burning, but the pleasure shot through every other part of me, the shock of it so great that it seemed to stop my heart.
He moved even faster, making noises that I drank down like a bitter wine or a sweet poison. Only time would tell if he was my saving grace or my greatest enemy. There would be no in between with him.
He went even deeper and I cried out again, so sensitive after what he’d just done to me.
We had already hashed out the details of protection. It was up to me. I wanted children—Fine by him. If I didn’t—Fine by him. It was my choice to make. I decided to wait on birth control when the doctor asked. I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted no barriers between us the first time.
Whatever will be, will be.
“Mariposa,” he growled out my name, and a second later, his head tilted back, his mouth parted, and his eyes shut tight. All of his muscles seized and then he spilled himself inside of me. I felt the combination of my want, my blood, and his seed mixing together.
He didn’t pull out of me. Not right away. He looked down at me. I looked up at him. He kissed me between the eyes, making me close mine.
The ache between my legs became real, not from want but from what we’d just done, and every part of me seemed to hurt. I was instantly sore. When he pulled out, I winced, as if he’d pulled a knife out of sensitive flesh, suddenly feeling alone and cold.
Bleeding out.
Instead of two, I felt like we were one.
The connection made me feel… What had the priest said? And the two shall become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one. There was no way to ask for it again, either. I wasn’t sure if I could move. Or how I would handle it again later, or tonight if he wanted to. It had been so…penetrating, and not just physically.