Page 88 of Wicked Sinner
I’d thought maybe I should give up on convincing her to stay, that this couldbesomething. After our last night out, I’d heard everything she said, and I thought maybe she was right. Maybe this—a marriage between a woman who has nothing to do with my world and me, a prodigal mafia heir—wasn’t meant to work out.
Maybe I needed to let her go.
But then Isabella fucking Torrino forced her way into my house, into a conversation with my wife, and tried to convince her that she’s not good enough for me. ThatIsabellais what I need. And when Bridget said she was gorgeous, when it was so clear that my wife was jealous of another woman, which means some part of her wanted me…wantsme for herself?—
I couldn’t stop myself. I needed her. I needed to feel her around me, against me, needed to make her come for me again and taste her, fuck her, claim her. To show her that there has never been a woman in the world more beautiful to me than the one I’m married to right now.
And now, like a junkie who tried to get clean, I’m addicted again.
Bridget moans as I drag my tongue over her, lapping up her arousal, and I shift, nudging her thighs gently apart as I settle between them. I slide my fingers down, guiding them into her entrance as I start to roll my tongue over her clit, and I feel the blanket slide back as she pushes it down.
Her hazel eyes lock on mine as I look up, startled but already glazed with pleasure, and her lips part.
“What are you?—”
“Waking you up the way I’d do it every morning, if you’d let me,” I murmur, lifting my head for just a moment before I dip back down to return to what I was doing before. She tastes like heaven, and I can’t stop myself from reaching down to slowly stroke my cock in time with my tongue’s path over her clit. I’m too fucking hard from sleeping next to her, and the taste of her makes it impossible to go a moment longer without touching myself. I go slowly enough that I’m in no danger of coming before she does, teasing the piercing at the tip of my cock with my thumb as I circle my tongue around her clit.
“God—” Her head drops back against the pillows, and I feel her fingers thread through my hair. “That feels so good—I didn’t know it could feel that good until you.” Her hips arch up, and my cock throbs at the praise, hearing how good my tongue makes her feel.
I like pleasing women. I always have. Most of my pleasure comes from hearing the moans and gasps that I get in return, and I’ve made sure to learn to be good at it. I know I’m arrogant, cocky about the size of my dick and the fact that it comes with extras, but I can back it up.
And right now, hearing Bridget gasp for me in pleasure as I prove I can do everything I say I can to her with every part of my body is the most gratifying thing I’ve ever heard.
I feel her muscles tense as she gets closer to the edge, her back arching and her moans rising in pitch. I stroke myself faster, feeling my own climax approaching at the taste of her on my tongue, the sound of her pleasure, and the way she’s drenched my face with her arousal, and I feel her tighten around my fingers as her moan turns into a high-pitched cry.
“Caesar!” she cries out my name, fingers digging into my scalp as she starts to come, grinding against my face as her arousal floods my tongue. I squeeze my shaft hard, holding back my own orgasm at the exquisite feeling of her coming on my face, licking her through it as I curl my fingers and keep thrusting them, wanting every drop of her pleasure.
And then, just as she starts to ebb, falling back against the bed as she gasps, I lean up and thrust into her while she’s still clenching and rippling from her climax.
The feeling of her pussy squeezing me is exquisite. I sink into her, hard, feeling her milk the length of my shaft as I draw out and thrust in again, on the edge of spilling into her. Her eyes are glazed with lust, her mouth partially open, her hands coming up to grip my arms as I fuck her relentlessly, desperate for my own climax.
I throw my head back as it hits, growling out her name as I feel my cock throb, spurt after spurt of cum filling her. I kept my promise last night—it was dripping out of her as I fucked her by the time she finally went to shower—and now I want to do it all over again.
I brace on my elbows, still throbbing as I look down at her. “I’m not letting you out of bed yet,” I growl, leaning down to stroke my hand over her hip. “Can you take my cock a few more times,bellissima?”
Her eyes widen. “Caesar?—”
“I don’t have anywhere to be, and neither do you.” I lean down, kissing her as I rock my hips against hers, unwilling to slide out of her just yet. “Stay in bed with me. Pretend a little longer.”
"You can't solve everything by keeping me in bed," she says, but there's not enough protest in her voice. Just that is enough to make me start to get hard again, knowing she’s going to give in.
"I can try." I thrust shallowly, content to stay in her warmth forever. “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” I murmur, my mouth brushing over hers. “Nothing has ever felt as good as you. No one ever made me come like this. I’ve never gotten hard so many times in a row before?—”
Bridget bites her lip as if she’s trying not to laugh, and my chest tightens at the expression on her face, a feeling that’s alarming. It feels like something I’ve never experienced before, something that has no place in the relationship we’ve agreed on.
But I feel it all the same.
“I told Isabella that you said I made you come harder than any other woman ever has,” she admits, her eyes sparkling with near-laughter, and I grin, kissing her again firmly.
“That wasn’t a lie.”
She laughs, shoving one palm against my chest. "You're impossible."
I kiss her until I’m hard again, fucking her more slowly this time—I’m well aware that if she’s not sore already, she will be soon. But as long as she can take it, I’m going to be inside of her as much as I can manage, until she finally forces us to stop. “One more time,” I murmur, feeling desperate to come inside of her again despite how brief a time it’s been. “And then I’ll get you breakfast.”
I fuck her until she comes again, and then let myself go, groaning as the pleasure of my release ripples through my body. I finally roll away from her, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. I see the way her gaze drags over my bare torso, and I know she wants me as badly as I want her.
It’s just getting her to admit it with her words instead of only with her body.
