Page 120 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
I coax her thighs further apart and press my hips forward. I slide into her with a smooth ease that only reaffirms my conviction that she was made for me. Our lips rest against each other as I move slowly, in and out of her.
I don’t want dark this time. I want vanilla. Just as she asked for. Only, there’s fuckingnothingvanilla about this. I’mdyingof need. I don’t want this to ever end. If someone held a gun to my head right now, I’d let them shoot, because they’ll never find me in a happier place, deep inside my girl, feeling her tremble around me.
“I love you,” she whispers into my mouth.
I inhale her words. “I love you too,” I reply, re-angling myself so my cock strokes a different part of her.
“I’m going to come any second,” she says, gasping.
“I’ve got you.” I run my fingers through her hair and dip my tongue into her mouth. Her pussy tightens around me and I drive deeper, rolling through her climax and swallowing every whimper and every moan. I slow as she comes down, but I don’t stop. I shift my angle again and in seconds, she’s panting and quivering beneath me.
“God, you’re ending me with these cute little noises,” I whisper.
“I can’t think straight,” she gasps.
“You shouldn’t be thinking at all,” I say, softly, tugging on her hair and fucking her slowly. My cock thickens. I’m so close I feel delirious. The waves crash behind us and her thighs pool around mine. It takes all my strength—and I pride myself on typically having an inhuman amount— just to hold my orgasm back. This evening, I want to devour her pleasure, tremor by tremor. I want to feast on it. I want to feel her body beneath me, fragile yet forceful. Trapped but with all the power to bring me down should she ever wish to.
Her pussy tightens again, bringing me home. I force myself to keep pace. I want to draw her out so long she forgets her own name.
“Benito…” Her gasp floods my ears and she clamps down, milking all the come from my cock. It floods out of me and into her, where it belongs. My vision disappears and heat flushes through my chest. I feelfuckinginvincible.
I push myself so deep I can feel her edge as she shakes beneath me. I jerk one more time then press my lips to her damp throat.
Unable to see straight, I keep my eyes closed and breathe one single word. “Fuck.”
To my surprise, she giggles.
“What’s so funny?” I groan.
“You say ‘fuck’ an awful lot.”
“It’s versatile,” I say, lacking the energy to frown.
“Is that right?”
“Sure. It can communicate surprise, commiseration, confusion… rage.”
I can sense her smiling even though my head is buried in her neck.
“And sometimes it’s the only word that carries the gravitas I need in a particular situation.”
“Like now?”
I lift my head and almost drown in her green eyes. They seem to embody the deep ocean that laps at the shore just feet away from where we lie.
“Yeah. Sometimes, the right words simply don’t exist.”
Before she can question me any further, I push myself up to my knees and pull her with me, then to our feet.
“God, I must look a mess,” she says, brushing sand out of her hair.
“You look stunning,” I reply. I move around her, putting strands of hair back into place, brushing creases from her dress, then I do the same to my suit. Then I take her hand and we walk back to our families.
Contessa
“You andBernadi?” Bambi is standing next to me, having followed me into the restroom, with her jaw on the floor and a particularly judgmental scowl on her face. “I thought you hated him.”
I run a finger under my eyes wiping away some of the smudged mascara and apply another slick of gloss. “I did.”
