Page 165 of Stalking Ginevra

“More than that,” I say through clenched teeth. “I want your heart again. I want the man who planned to grow old with me. I want my lover, my best friend. I want my husband, Benito. I want you.”

He enters me in a hard thrust, slamming us back into the wall.

Gasping, I dig my nails into his shoulders. He’s never bred me at this angle before and it’s raw, relentless. Everything I didn’t realize I was missing. His rhythm is brutal, every thrust infusing me with a shock of pleasure. But it’s more than just physical.

He isn’t just fucking me hard enough to erase Samson and Bob Brisket—it feels like he’s leaving his brand and marking me as his.

Tears blur my vision, but not from pain. It’s the weight of it all, the second chance I thought I’d lost forever. “I’ll do anything,” I say through panting breaths. “Give you all of me. I want you, Benito. I want this family. I want our future.”

His pace falters for a split second, but he doesn’t stop. But something shifts between us, and what’s happening doesn’t feel like possession or even breeding. It’s deeper.

Maybe Benito finally believes my words. Or maybe he’s tired of fighting. With each stroke, I feel him unraveling, hismovements growing unsteady, his breathing uneven. Then his lips crash against mine again, and I know he’s finally listening.

I kiss back, pouring all my love and longing and regret. It’s as if our bodies are finally merging back into a single soul.

“I missed you,” I whisper into his mouth. “Open your heart for me, and I’ll never leave.”

He pulls back again, his breath heavy against my lips, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to gauge if what I’m saying is real.

All the while, his hand grips my thigh, anchoring my body against the wall as he pounds into my pussy with deeper, more deliberate thrusts. The raw intensity of it steals my breath. I’ve never felt so connected to another human being. He looks so deeply into my eyes that our souls connect, and I seize my chance to make him understand.

“That time we spent apart was like hell,” I say, my vision blurring with tears. “It was like living without a heart.”

He doesn’t respond, but his pace changes, becoming slower, more controlled, like he’s trying to hold back. But I don’t want his restraint, I want the sheer force of his desire.

“Punish me. Imprison me. Call me names,” I whisper, running my fingers through the back of his hair, trying to pull him closer. “But don’t shut me out.”

His body presses harder against mine, his lips brushing over my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “What if the only way I believe you’ll stay with me is if you’re pregnant?”

My heart skips a beat, but I don’t falter. If having our child is the way to mend what’s been broken, I’ll do it. “Then fill me with cum and give me a baby.”

He presses his lips against mine in another hard, possessive kiss. Before I can even process what’s happening, he’s pulling me away from the wall and carrying me to the chaise.

Lowering me onto the plush fabric, he takes a step back, his eyes scanning my body in the grecian dress as if he’s trying to memorize every inch. I reach out, but he grabs my wrists and holds them above my head as he straddles the chaise.

“Beg for it,” he murmurs against my neck, his voice low and rough. “Let the ladies in the other room hear how much you want my cum.”

“What?” I whisper.

“You heard me,” he growls.

His mouth travels lower, making my lips part with a moan. He peppers kisses down the neckline of my dress, his hands slipping beneath the fabric gathered around my thighs. I arch my back, trying to press closer, but he keeps his pace torturously slow.

“Please, Benito, don’t make me wait anymore. I’ll do anything—be anyone. Just don’t pull away from me again.” My voice cracks, breaking under the weight of all the hurt and guilt that’s been festering for far too long.

But he remains silent, his gaze dark and unmoved as his fingers tease my entrance, torturing me with that unbearable friction.

I try to grab his wrist to guide him, but he pins my hands above my head again, leaving me completely at his mercy. “I’m begging,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

Tears stream down my cheeks. My throat tightens, but the words pour out before I can stop them. “If you want me on my knees, I’ll fall at your feet. If you want me broken, I’ll shatter. I’ll be anything you need me to be, just please... give me another chance. Show me I’m enough for you.”

When his mouth finally finds the spot between my legs, I can’t hold back a throaty gasp. My fingers tangle in his hair, my hips bucking against him as his tongue flicks against my clit.

Pleasure swirls through my senses, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. I’m panting, begging for more, but he takes his time, drawing out the sensations until I’m shaking. Every moan, every gasp is like he’s drinking in my desperation, reveling over his absolute control.

“Benito, please,” I whimper, my voice breaking with need.

He pauses, looking up at me from between my thighs, his lips glistening, and growls, “Not until I say.”

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