Page 56 of Forgive Me, Father

He put his finger on my lips, gesturing to be quiet and then he pulled me into him, kissing the crap out of me.The kiss felt erotic, and I had no idea what was going through his mind until his hands disappeared underneath my dress, and started to pull away my panties.

“Alfonso,” I mouthed, but he just spun me around and gently nudged my knees onto the toilet seat.

Surely, he would not do what I thought he wanted to do?

He fiddled with my panties, and I couldn’t even reprimand him.Before I could turn back around, he entered me from behind and my eyes closed from the euphoria that his cock was doing inside of me.

Fuck, this wasn’t normal.

Everyone always told me how painful it was.Sure, the night we consummated the wedding was horrible, but now it was the opposite.I couldn’t get enough, and from the way he was fucking me in this stall, neither could he.

I tried my utmost best not to make a single noise, and it was fucking hard when a woman on her cellphone used the cubicle next to us.

Alfonso barely moved inside of me, as his hand clamped around my mouth.When she left, not once saying goodbye to whoever was on the call, he rammed into me again.

He fucked me hard and fast until I succumbed.I wanted to scream, but it was impossible to do that.

He grunted and pulled out just in time, his sperm seeping through his fingers as he pumped faster.

The poor guy almost doubled over, and I wanted to laugh but didn’t.We had to be quiet.

He gave me a deep, lingering kiss before heading out first.The faucet turned on as he washed his hands.I quickly freshened up, flushing the toilet before stepping out just as Alfonso left the bathroom.

A woman smiled at me as she checked her makeup while washing her hands.I doubted she had heard anything from the cubicle, but still, I couldn’t shake the warm, reddish hue creeping across my cheeks.

I pinched myself, half in disbelief.If this was really what he was like, our marriage might just turn to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

TWENTY

THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

“I want to take you away,”Alfonso said when I found him five days later, buried in too many layers.After the way we’d been clawing at each other for more than a week, I should’ve felt wrecked, fragile, frayed.A wilted flower.But I didn’t.I felt like a sex maniac and a brand-new woman.

“Today?”I asked, groggy.

“Yes, get that delicious ass of yours up and get dressed,” my husband ordered and I watched his fine figure, dressed in a pair of Armani jeans and a white sweater, leaving our room.

I did as he asked, slipped into a short halter neck jumper with no sleeves, and high heels, did my makeup, ran a brush through my hair, and threw on a light blazer.Just as I reached for the door, a knock came.A woman in uniform stood there, all polite efficiency.She greeted me.

I nodded, returned the greeting, and stepped past her, descending the stairs toward the sound of Alfonso’s voice.

He was deep in conversation with Nico, orchestrating something while a pair of hotel staff wheeled out our luggage.The scene looked surreal, like I’d stepped into someone else’s life.

Alfonso spotted me, held out his hand.Without thinking, I took it.

My stomach growled in protest, I hadn’t eaten, but I didn’t say a word.

“Who is leaving?”

“We all are,” Alfonso said.“It’s time to go on a real honeymoon and then we need to get on with real life, my little runaway.”

The nickname grew on me.

“But first, we need to get something in that stomach of yours.I can hear it a mile away.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as we made our way to the restaurant downstairs for breakfast.

Over coffee and warm croissants, I tried to pry the destination out of him.I shouldn’t have been surprised when he finally told me, Puglia.Two weeks.

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