Page 26 of One Savage Union

Stopping behind her, I watch as she runs her hands through her hair while letting the water cascade down her face. She's exquisite. My dick is hard and long as a battering ram, but I keep my control. Leaning down, I squirt some Dior Homme body wash into my hands and run them over her neck and shoulders. She will smell like me until we can get her some things of her own, but I don't mind. I rather like it.

Taking my time, I massage the soap into her tense muscles. I rub hard until I feel her relax under my touch, and when I hear a faint moan, I know I've hit pay dirt. She needs this. Now, I only want to listen to her make that sound again. I want to make her whimper and moan until she's nothing but a pile of needy goo in my capable hands. I continue my ministrations down her body and allow the spray to rinse off the soap I've applied.

She freezes and shrieks when I grab my shampoo and squeeze a dollop into her hair.

"What is that?”

Confused, I shrug. "It's only shampoo, Lucia. What's the matter?"

She turns to face me and sighs wearily.

"Fieri," she bites.

I hate when she calls me by my last name. Every syllable places a distance between us, but I will fix that soon.

"I know you think you planned this forced marriage down to every minute detail, but did you stop and think about the heritage of your wife? Supposedly, I’m half-Italian, but I’m Ghanaian. You can't just put any old shampoo into my hair unless you want me to end up with a dried-out, brittle bird's nest on my head. I need a co-wash and lots of leave-in conditioner to tame this mane."

She points at the wavy dark curls spilling down her back and takes a deep breath. I regret not anticipating her needs, but this will be the last time that happens.

"You think I didn't notice you're an African Goddess?” I step closer, pulling her back from underneath the spray and into my arms. "I'm mesmerized by your warm-toned skin. It resembles mine but has a sweet toasted almond undertone instead of olive.”

Nuzzling her hair, I breathe her in. "Your hair is thick and wavy like my mother’s.” When I run my hands through the curly strands, they lengthen down her back. "Only with tighter curls and definition."

I press my thumb against her lips, and my eyes beg them to open for me. She does, and I slip my thumb inside. To my delight, she swirls her tongue around it and sucks me as I slide it out. A groan escapes the back of my throat, but I keep my composure.

"These lips are thick and plump, like the Yoruba art I've obsessed over in galleries for years. So yes, beautiful, I notice and admire your African roots. Ijust didn't know that meant you needed a different shampoo."

Against her wishes, she smiles at me, and I feel like I've won the fucking lottery. That smile needs to come to the surface more often.

"It's okay," she whispers. "You didn't know." Leaning behind me, she picks up my conditioner and reads the label. "I guess we can use this until I get some of my things."

I nod and turn her back toward me once more. I squeeze a generous amount of conditioner in my hands and massage it on her scalp. She melts and relaxes her head against my shoulder while my mouth gets busy, stealing kisses all along the side of her jaw. When I've rinsed the last of the conditioner out and feel her hair is sufficiently clean, I turn her around and thank my lucky stars as her lips melt into mine.

When we come up for air, I stroke her cheek. "Let me make you come, piccola. I want to make you feel good and watch you fall apart . I know you need it."

She breathes heavily and looks at my chest. I place a finger under her chin so she will look up at me, but she shakes her head and looks down again. "I don't… I can't…."

Her protests are half-hearted. She's nervous, not adverse. I tip her chin up to level her eyes on me again. "Are you innocent? Lucia? Tell me the truth and tell me now. Virginity is nothing to be ashamed of."

She blows a breath and closes her eyes, but I pinch her hip with my free hand, and she puts her eyes back where they belong, on her husband. Anger flashes in her gaze.

"I've had sex before." Her bravado grows, and she shakes her head. "I'm a grown woman, Fieri. You think I've never taken a dick before?!"

I wish I hadn't asked. Now all I want to do is hunt down every bastard that ever got the privilege of seeing her naked and claw their fucking eyes out before I kill them slowly, but I remain calm.

"How many lovers have you had, and when was your last one?"

Her eyes widen in shock, and I pull her from under the water spray.

"That's none of your business!" She hisses.

"Ahh, but that's where you're wrong, piccola. It is my business, and I need to know how much that sweet cunt of yours can take because I will take it one day soon. You will beg me to; our precarious situation will call for it. There's no shame in your sexual history. Just tell me so I can take care of you."

She shakes her head, and her eyes plead with me. "I'm not ready to have sex with you yet. It's too much and too soon."

Her honest admission tells me everything I need to know. She hasn't slept with many men because sex means something to her, but the sadistic side of me wants her to confess the number in her own words. I love her discomfort. It makes her vulnerable, and that's sexy as hell.

I nod. "Noted. Now tell me. How many lovers and when?"

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