Page 79 of His Nephew's Ex
Then—holy paradise—my mouth is on her, my mouth is drinking her, my mouth is breaking her apart while she melts against me. She becomes holy benediction as I take her, taste her, mark her as my wife and property forever. Mine to have, mine to love, mine to have broken and whole and broken and whole again.
“Please,” she begs, her heels digging into my shoulders, hands sliding through my hair.
The world stops spinning for a minute, and I wonder if this is what it feels like to transcend this life and catch a glimpse of the next.
Passion. Desire. Wildness and ferocity and the fullest expression of how much I give a damn about the woman in my arms. She’s my wife now, forever. Mine to destroy and rebuild into something she hasn’t even begun to imagine.
My tongue slides through her wet heat, parting folds, exploring secrets, teasing tendrils. Then finds the point that drives her mad with wanting, with needing, with full-blown begging.
She quivers against my lips, rising toward the cliff’s edge with a soft cry.
“Not yet,” I growl, coming to my knees and tearing off my clothing. “Not before you taste this too.”
With a savage sound, she slides off the bed and sinks to her knees, reaching for me with reckless want. I tangle my fingers in her hair, pulling her toward my length until her mouth covers the crown and drinks my desire with the same holy reverence.
My cock has never been so hard, so helpless, so completely consumed by the feel and the taste and the sensation of the mouth locked on me.
It’s just the beginning. But the end will come soon, and her throat will convulse and beg me, and I’ll have no choice but tofinish. No choice at all but to break for her, crumble into dust, dissolve in the blinding truth.
“Stellina.”
It’s all I have the strength to say. All I have left is a long minute until the pleasure takes hold and the pressure builds, and the explosion is inside her mouth, running the length of my erection, shoving me toward oblivion.
But not yet. My queen must have her wishes.
She looks up, breathless, wanton, hungry as hell. That’s all I need. A glance. My grip intensifies. I pull her to her feet and turn her toward the bed.
“Elbows and knees,” I order. “Spread yourself for me.”
She places her hands wide on the bed, drops to her knees, and rests her face against the duvet.
In a rush, I’m behind her. My face planted between her gorgeous cheeks. My hands trailing her back, following the path of my tongue.
“Ohhhh, Simeone,” she breathes. “Oh.”
I use my tongue, and then, because I cannot help myself, I let my fingers and palms explore the soft shapes and hard knots of her from sternum to thigh. The thrill of exploration coursesthrough me. The sensuality of my wife’s body beneath me, her need evident in every slow and purposeful touch.
My wife will have everything she wants and deserves on the first night of her marriage and every night forward. The man I’ll always be, even when the title means nothing to her anymore. Her husband. Forever.
“Still eager?” I purr.
“Yes,” she pleads. “Always.”
“What a queen I’ve married.” I breathe her in. Marvel at the closeness of her. “Let’s keep you begging, then, shall we?”
Her hips crash backward, like she’s offering her desperate pussy to me. To try her. Taste her. Shove so deep inside her that we forget what separates us and where this belongs.
“Simeone, please.”
The begging. The sweet-sharp scent. The taste of pure wickedness on my tongue drives me to madness. Heat like fire and stars already burning in one tight place inside me.
I come to her, guiding her hips back to sink onto the aching tip of my eager length, drawing a harsh, fevered moan from her lips.
“Everything,stellina. Give me all of yourself tonight.”
“Yes. Oh yes.”
A sharp crack fills the room, and it takes a full second to realize that I’ve smacked my new bride hard across the ass. I anticipate anger and accusations, maybe even terror. Instead, she flushes bright red, glances over her shoulder at me, and groans softly.
