Page 171 of Mine Again
I bite her back, not gently, then crush my mouth to hers again. I devour her like I’ve been starving. Because I have.
Five years of hunger. Five years of need and nothing but camera footage of her. Now she’s here.
My woman.
And I will have my fill. Even if it takes a lifetime to make up for losttime.
I sit up abruptly, supporting her through the sudden shift by bracing one hand at the small of her back, the other cradling her head, never breaking our kiss. Her legs tighten around me as I pull her upright, her body pressed flush against mine, soft curves meeting hard lines.
I guide her head back, not roughly but with purpose. My lips find her throat, and I devour the skin there, licking, sucking, tasting the spot that always made her squirm.
She clutches me tighter, her hands roaming over my bare chest, gliding over every muscle, then curling around my shoulders and lacing behind my neck like she needs the contact to breathe.
I grab the hem of her nightshirt, my fingers curling into the thin cotton like it’s the enemy.
“Need you naked,” I growl against her lips. “I need to see you. All of you,farfalla. Now.”
I tear my mouth from hers for half a second to yank the offending fabric over her head. And even that’s too long. I should have ripped it instead.
She hums her approval and crushes her lips back to mine, grinding her pussy against my cock through the thin scrap of her panties and the soft cotton of my boxers. She’s already drenched.
Her scent fills the air, thick with arousal and something sharper. Desperation… surrender. It wraps around me, seeps into my lungs, marks me from the inside out. Every time her tongue tangles with mine, it gets stronger, more potent, like she’s trying to brand me with her need.
I breathe it in like it belongs to me. Because it does.
Shedoes.
I want to live in it, drown in it, lose myself until nothing exists but her need for me.
My body is on fire. Every trail her fingers leave behind sparks hotter than the last. Her skin against mine is heat and heaven, and it’s driving me mad.
Her nipples are hard as glass, dragging across my chest with every shift. I let my hands roam, cupping her breasts, kneading them as our mouths stay fused. I roll her peaks between my fingers, scraping my thumbs across them, and her body arches in response. But it’s not enough. I need them in my mouth.
I tear my lips from hers to drink her in.
“Fuck me, you’re stunning.”
“Yes,” she breathes, eyes locked on mine, her voice wrecked with need. “Please… fuck me.”
The desperate look on her face nearly undoes me.
“Oh, I will,” I promise, low and dark. “I will fuck you so good you’ll never doubt anything again. Not who you belong to. Not how much you mean to me, or how much I fucking worship you. All night. All day. Until forever never ends.”
I kiss her harder, biting her bottom lip and tugging it between my teeth before letting it go.
“But first,” I murmur, “I need a taste of these.”
I pinch her nipples, hard and slow, and she gasps, her head falling back as her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders and spills onto the sheets.
“Luca… ahhh.”
She grinds against me, chasing friction, her hips rolling with purpose. And it lights something inside me. A new kind of hunger. She likes that. The edge. The sting.
Interesting.
My little butterfly might have grown wings made for fire. We’d never played rough before. Our time was always too short, too stolen. I only worshiped her. Sweet, innocent… young love.
Not anymore.
