Page 29 of His Vow
He drops a kiss to my forehead, then leaves me standing there, the door closing with aclickbehind him. The woman staring back at me in the mirror is barely recognizable as the same one who stood here earlier today. My hair is wild, and what remainsof my makeup is blotchy. But it’s the pink marks across my breasts and thighs from my husband that draw my attention. It wasn’t a dream. Ant really does want me, and my explosive orgasms were evidence that I want him.
I grab a hairband from my makeup bag on the vanity to gather my hair up before stepping into the water. Sinking down into the warmth until the bubbles are tickling my chin. My head lolls back onto the folded towel on the curved edge. Seriously, he thinks of everything.
I’ve married the sexiest, most thoughtful man I know.
Chapter eleven
Antonio
The beautiful woman sleeping beside me is my wife. But what’s even more shocking is that the same woman is my childhood friend.
If I was honest, the thought that I might one day end up sleeping with Lucia isn’t a new one. It was a possibility soon after we reconnected, but as time went on, the chances of it happening faded. However, marriage was never on my radar—to her or any other woman.
Yet here we are, husband and wife, and this morning I can’t wipe away the memory of her orgasming on my tongue multiple times last night.
It’s all fucked up.I’mfucked up. Because all I can think about is doing dirty things with her. Then my big brain steps in, overruling the one in my dick, and I remember what a bad idea it would be.
I don’t want to ruin our friendship with the complications of sex. And after a night of tossing and turning in the bed beside her, I need to remain strong on the agreement we made. Whatwe did last night can’t happen again. Not in the foreseeable future, at least.
Slowly, I roll out of bed, careful not to disturb Lucia. She doesn’t need an eyeful of my morning wood. No, I need to deal with this in the shower—alone. Just like I did last night in the other en suite while she soaked in a tub of bubbles. It was the only way I was going to be able to sleep beside her and keep my promise.
Stripping off my boxer briefs, I turn on the waterfall shower and dive under it before the water can even warm. Luckily, I don’t mind a cold shower in the morning, as I expect I’ll be needing a lot of them in the coming weeks if I’m going to keep my hands and mouth off my delectable wife.
The full force of the water hits hard on my back, and bracing an arm against the marble-tiled wall, I close my eyes. I grip the base of my cock with my other hand and stroke firmly up the length. Images of Lucia spread out on the bed last night run like a film reel behind my closed lids. Her voluptuous tits bouncing when I pulled her closer. Her glistening pussy when I lifted her leg. And my favorite memory of all, the taste of her arousal on my tongue.
A deep groan rips from my throat, echoing off the tiles and rebounding back at me. I pump my fist faster. Remembering her shouting my name as she came apart on my tongue pushes me to completion. Thick threads of cum paint the tiles. If only it could be Lucia’s gorgeous tits I was coating.
When my breathing steadies, I finish my shower, washing away all evidence of my release, then wrap the large white towel around my waist.
One step back into the bedroom, and I realize my mistake. All I can see of Lucia is the top of her head. Her green eyes sparkling as bright as the large emerald I placed on her finger yesterday.She’s holding the sheet up to her nose, and I know she’s laughing—or at least grinning—beneath it.
“You think that’s funny?” There’s no point denying what I’ve been doing. She obviously heard me.
The sheet shifts over her as she giggles. “You still want to go slow?” she asks.
With only a shake of my head, I walk over to my bag. “You should jump in the shower too; we need to leave in an hour.” And with my back turned to her, I unhook the towel at my waist, letting it drop.
Her gasp stretches my smile wider. With clean boxer briefs in my hand, I glance over my shoulder to find my wife standing statue still in the middle of the room, her mouth wide open. I turn fully to face her, and her gaze drops. She shouldn’t look so adorable wearing my T-shirt that hits high on her thigh.
“I think you need another shower, big-guy,” she teases, and her tongue darts out to run along her bottom lip.
I can’t argue with her when my cock is as hard now as it was when I woke. All it took was for Luce’s eyes to land on me.
“Lucia … Shower. Now,” I growl, eliciting a giggle from the mouth I’m imagining fucking.
“Wow, someone’s a bit grumpy this morning,” she says, lifting the T-shirt up and off over her head before tossing it on the bed. She’s as naked as me now.
“Fuck, Luce. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
One brow rises higher than the other, and a cheeky grin lights up her entire face before she spins on her heel.
“I’ll use my bathroom so you can … finish.” She struts out of the bedroom, through the shared sitting area, and into the second bedroom. My hand drops to the base of my cock again to give it a few leisurely strokes. I want to fuck my wife so badly that it physically hurts.
Good intentions and the reality of my sexy wife provoking me will make this a whole lot harder, literally. And while still tugging on my shaft, I return to the bathroom to deal with the situation.
***
Our flight to Florence is long and increasingly quiet the closer we get to our destination. It’s a different kind of silence to our flight to Vegas. Not awkward nervousness, but one of heavy dread. We both know meeting with Lucia’s father is going to be a shit show.
