Page 47 of Brutal Vows

Just before she sucks the life out of me, I yank her face away and grab her wrists when she continues to stroke them up and down my cock.

“Stop,gattina, or I’ll cum in your mouth,” I snarl.

She quirks a brow.

“That’s kind of the point. Let me go,” she demands.

“Mio Dio, how are you so perfect?”

“I’m not,” she quips. She swirls her tongue around my tip. “I’m just better than all those whores you brought home so you could braid their hair.”

The jealous fury in her tone breaks the dam of my control. I push her mouth down onto my cock and growl as fiery pleasure rushes from the base of my spine to the inside of my shaft.

“Swallow. Every. Drop,” I snarl.

She tightens her fist around my base, cups my balls, and sinks lower onto me.

The most intense release barrels through me as her throat squeezes my tip. Teetering on the edge of pain, I growl and pull her hair, but she hums and works her mouth up and down my shaft, swallowing and licking at her own pace as she kneads my balls and strokes my base.

A second orgasm plows through me with no warning, stealing my vision and electrifying every nerve in my body.

I yank her head away from my groin and fight for oxygen as the last pulse of seed dribbles from my tip.

“Fuck, Loretta. No more,” I heave.

Her muffled huff sharpens my senses. I meet her eyes and lift my brow in question.

She opens her mouth to reveal the viscous fluid still puddled on her tongue.

My satisfaction skyrockets. Visceral delight and depraved hedonism flow through me.

She’s mine. I marked her. She’ll forever be mine.

Her gorgeous green eyes sparkle with mischief.

She flexes her tongue and pushes my cum out of her mouth. I watch in disbelief as it trickles down her chin and drips onto her breasts.

“Oops. Maybe next time,” she says with a smirk.

I growl, lift her onto her feet, pin her back against the tiles, drop to my knees, throw her legs over my shoulders, and bury my face in her pussy.

No matter how many times I bring her to completion, I’ll never get enough of her sweetness. I’ll never tire of watching her fly apart on my fingers. Never take for granted how she clings to me and begs for more as I pleasure her with my cock.

When the water runs cold and chills our flesh, I dry us off with the same towel and carry her to her bed naked, but the mountain of stuffed animals prevents me from setting her down. She solves the problem by kicking them onto the floor and pulling the blankets back. I place her in the middle of the mattress and grab the heavy comforter to tuck around her, but she growls and pulls me down on top of her.

“You’re the best weighted blanket in the world. Don’t leave. Please.”

How can I resist?

I prop myself up on my elbows, but she hisses and wriggles around until we lie on our sides with our fronts plastered together and our limbs tangled. Afraid I’ll smother her in my sleep, I lean back, but her frustrated sigh and impatient tug on my shoulder as she drapes her thigh over my hip convinces me to trust her.

She’s no damsel in distress. She’s my strong, opinionated, and needygattina.

As she slips into an exhausted doze, I brush her hair back from her face and ghost my thumb over her cheek.

No matter how similar her features are to her stepsister, or even her twin, I’ll never confuse her with anyone again. She’s mine. Underneath her naturally tanned flesh, faint freckles dot the very top of her cheekbones. Her full lashes and pert nose belong to her and her alone. A tiny white scar—invisible from more than a foot away—hides in the curve of her lower right lip.

She’s perfect.

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