Page 79 of The Proposal

Taking the majority of my weight on my knees, I thrust into her at piston speed, but it’s not enough. I’m still unable to quench the hunger I feel for this woman.

Drawing out, I flip her over onto her stomach and drag her body back towards me. We moan in unison when I enter her again, burying myself to the hilt.

Placing my hand on the small of her back, I push down slightly, raising her backside higher and sinking in a little deeper.

I’m looking forward to taking that arse of hers one day.

I want to claim every part of this woman.

I want to own her body, mind and soul.

Glancing down, I watch my cock disappear inside her, the sight just as thrilling as the feelings she evokes.

My hand moves in between us as the pad of my thumb slides through her arousal, coating it with her own juices.

When I press it against her puckered hole, pushing the tip inside, she suddenly stills and glances at me over her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Making you feel good.”

Her pretty eyes are slightly narrowed. “Are you looking for the stick?”

“What?”

“The stick. The one you threatened to remove the day you shoved a ring on my finger and told me we would be married by the end of the week … which was very unromantic and not the way I’d envisioned my future husband would propose by the way.”

My shoulders bob with silent laughter, not because of the deplorable way I proposed—I’m ashamed of that part—but because she thinks I’m looking for a stick.

“You told me you’d rather die than marry me.”

“At the time, that’s how I felt. I didn’t know you as I do now.”

Her answer gives me pause. “If I proposed again, knowing everything you do now, what would your answer be?” I ask as my thumb pushes in a little further, and my free hand moves around to stroke her clit.

Arabella arches her back and whimpers, but it doesn’t go unnoticed that she doesn’t answer my question.

Would she still not want to marry me? The thought sits like heavy lead in my stomach.

I’d marry her in a heartbeat.

I will win her over one day. I won’t rest until I do. She can give me the kind of happiness I’ve secretly yearned for. I know that for a fact because she already does.

I sink my thumb in, right down to the knuckle, as my pressure on her clit intensifies. My thrusts are unrelenting as my hips buck in perfect sync with my hands, and the sounds coming out of my wife tell me she’s enjoying this more than she thought she would.

I’ve had enough experience with women to understand what they enjoy, and although I am still becoming intimately acquainted with Arabella’s body, I’m learning her kinks right alongside her.

By the time I’m done with this woman, no man will ever be able to please her like I do, and any fucker that even thinks of trying will die.

“Dante,” she screams as I move my thumb in a circular motion, stretching her. I have no intention of putting my cock in there until she’s ready, but just the thought has my balls drawing up.

“Come for me,principessa(Princess).”

“I … I …” Her words die off as they are replaced with a long, drawn-out moan. It’s so loud I don’t doubt my guards outside can hear her.

Her entire body quakes as her inner muscles milk my cock. I bury myself so deep inside her that it squishes my balls.

My movements become jerky as her pussy constricts my dick like a vice. “Fuck,Bellezza,” I growl, spilling my seed deep inside her.

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