The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,19

pressing my lips against his.

For a moment he was a statue, but then Alessandro’s arms were banding around me and pulling me to him. Our lips rolled and moved, soft and nervous and searching.

Fire trailed from my lips and further down...

I moaned against him.

Alessandro, in one smooth movement, scooped me up and then walked back until I was lying on the bed. We sunk into the mattress together.

“Alessandro,” I whined, my voice not truly behaving how it is meant to.

Alessandro leaned over me, a domineering presence. “What do you want, Sophia?” he inquired, those lips of his coming closer and closer and closer—only to rest on my jawline. “What do you want, Sophia?”

“You. Now.”

That made him lift himself up, a look of pure animal hunger in his eyes, and then he was on top of me, kissing me into the bed. I wrapped my legs around his waist and took from him with just as much hunger. My body was getting so warm so quickly and I needed—I needed him so much.

Those secret dreams that had been my only solace these past weeks were now awakening. And reality was so much better.

“Alessandro,” I fiddled with his shirt, sliding it off him and tossing it to the floor. Then I went for his pants, but he trapped my hands, laughing.

Just to taunt me, he rubbed himself on me, which just made me tighten. “So hungry, Sophia.” His tongue slid down my neck, not helping my case. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

I would not give him the satisfaction of having all the control. So, I said, “Hop off.”

He paused and then brought himself back, detaching himself from me quickly. Those dark eyes were now mixed with worry. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. I was just getting too warm. I need to cool off.”

I grabbed the bottom of my nightgown and tossed it over my head. My bare body gleamed in the darkening room and when I spread my legs, it became very obvious that Alessandro was completely ready to have me. He was gripping the bed so hard it groaned and his dick was pressing against his pants with an admirable force.

I met his eyes. You should’ve known better than to go up against me, my love.

I could see a ghost of a smile in the scant light. He said aloud, “Sophia.”

“Mmm?” My fingers were trailing down my body, closer and closer to my ache. The closer I got the more energy Alessandro seemed to produce. He was vibrating with it. Then I touched the exact spot and let out a small cry. My fingers were brash against the wetness, making my heart pound and my stomach twist.

“Sophia.” He didn’t sound like my husband anymore. His voice was guttered, a mixture of feral lust and need.

I pressed myself harder. “What’s—what’s the matter, my capo? Cat got—got your tongue.” My tease would’ve been better had I not been so bloody hot and distracted.

“Have you cooled down?” he asked. He wanted to touch me again.

I shrugged. “Come feel for yourself.”

As quick as a snake, Alessandro had me laying on my back, him over me, and his fingers had gone straight to me. I let out a cry, especially as he began to rub and pull and press and—Oh my God!

His eyes seemed to burn with lust and he leaned down to get closer to my lips. But just before he reached them, he cocked his head to the side.

“Look how much you like this,” Alessandro purred. Then pulled his fingers out of me. I let out another cry—very involuntary. But he had me only getting wetter and hotter.

With a smile, he pushed a finger inside of me, which had me saying his name over and over. A prayer.

I wanted his hand—I wanted him inside of me.

“Oh, fuck, Sophia.” He pressed harder into me, which had me gripping his shoulders so tight I knew I’d leave scratches.

“Get inside of me, Alessandro,” I said, the words hard to understand. “Now—now get in me.”

Alessandro’s fingers stopped suddenly. “Four weeks,” he breathed.

“28 days,” I heaved back.

“672 hours,” Alessandro countered.

Our momentum slowly came to a stop, and we untangled ourselves from each other. I pressed my arm to my forehead, trying to catch my breath.

My husband was breathing just as heavily, still poised above me. He didn’t come lay down though. No, he just rose up on his knees and watched me. He was admiring me, admiring what he had done to me. His tongue