Page 59 of Savage Vows

I open my computer and check the security feed from the house, going back in time to the moment she walks out the back door, heading toward her art studio. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized sweater, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. In one hand, she carries what looks like a slice of chocolate cake.

Momentarily she stops to admire the garden and gaze into the sparkling pool.

My chest tightens.

She’s unbelievably beautiful. Does she have any idea the effect she has on me? The curve of her hips, the sway of her stride—it’s maddening. Heat coils low in my abdomen, and I slam the laptop closed and stalk to my private bathroom.

The cold water I splash on my face does little to cool my temper. She’s a distraction I can’t afford, yet she’s becoming as essential to me as the air I breathe.

I brace my hands on the chilled vanity top. The water drips from my face, but it does nothing to quench the fire raging within me. I can’t take this anymore. I need a release.

Unfastening my belt, I unzip my pants. My cock springs out, hard and heavy, aching with the need that’s been building since I spanked Alessia in our bedroom this morning. I grip myself firmly, feeling a satisfying pulse in my hand.

I close my eyes, and Alessia is instantly there, the way she’d been last night on the coffee table, her back arched, her body shaking in response to my punishment.

Her perfectly round ass becomes marked with my handprints.

I hear her soft whimpers and savor the way they escalate into desperate cries as I drive her to the edge. Her body squirms, her hips bucking against my restraining hold as she begs me to let her come.

I move my hand in a steady rhythm, stroking from base to tip. As I squeeze, I think about the way she clamps down on me. I remember her slick wetness, her velvety softness, the way she orgasmed, screaming my name.

My breath coming in harsh pants, I tighten my grip and speed up. I’m filled with her—the intoxicating taste of her skin, the scent of her arousal, the sounds of her pleasure.

I imagine her on her knees, her lips parting to take me deep into her mouth. I can feel the gentle graze of her teeth, the swirl of her tongue.

My muscles tense, my spine tingles. With a guttural moan, I come, thick ropes of ejaculate spurting out, coating the vanity and my hand.

I stroke myself through it, milking every last drop, my body shuddering with the intensity.

As the last waves of satisfaction recede, I lean against the counter, spent.

But I’m not satisfied. The relief I’ve given myself won’t last because it hasn’t given me what I need. To be buried deep inside my future wife’s body, feeling her tight pussy clenched around me. I want to hear her beg, her pleas, her screams as she climaxes around my cock.

I clean up quickly, tucking myself back in and washing my hands. As I stare at my reflection, I see the determination in my eyes. For the first time in years, I’m eager to get home. Not to the empty shell of a house I’ve lived in, but to Alessia.

Tonight I’ll make her mine again. I’ll show her that no matter how much she fights it, she belongs to me.

During the day, I check the security system several more times, telling myself I want to ensure she’s safe. But that’s a damn lie. I’ll be notified if anything goes wrong or if she attempts to leave me.

But every time I see her, my cock hardens, throbbing insistently.

I’ll never be able to get enough.

Frustrated with myself, I decide to go home a couple of hours before I usually do. Satisfyingly I find Alessia perched on one of the barstools at the kitchen island, a sketch pad in front of her, clearly lost in her creative pursuit.

The sight of her inflames me all over again.

When she realizes I’m near, she freezes, her pencil stilling midstroke. “Matteo” My name is breathless, and what I wouldn’t give for a touch of reverence.

“Hello, little rebel.” I stalk toward her, enjoying the sound of her breath catching as I near.

“I, er …” She puts down her pencil and flips the cover closed, but not before I catch a glimpse of a naked man’s form.

Mine?

My nostrils flare. It better not be anyone else’s.

She looks at me, a flush on her face. Her gaze is equal parts wary and curious and with a hint of the heat we shared last night.

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