sound in existence. Vincenzo cooing to her. That he was telling her she was incredible didn’t hurt, either.
She hadn’t slept, not for a second. The first time had also been like that, leaving her with the experience still expanding inside her, awake but in the stasis of stunned satisfaction.
She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t cooperate. They were swollen. Just like every inch of her, inside and out. From Vincenzo’s ferocious possession, and her fierce response. A numb hand flew to her head, surprised it was still there. He’d almost blown it off with pleasure, discharging the accumulated frustrations and cravings of six years in one annihilating detonation.
And he’d only managed to whet her appetite sharper. She wanted him again, even more than before. Her addiction was fully resurrected and would keep intensifying. Until it ended again.
But now it was just starting. She wanted every second of it before she had to relinquish it all again.
Succeeding in opening her eyes at last, she found him propped over his elbow, draped half over her, his eyes smoldering down at her. “Dio, what have you done to yourself? How could you be even more beautiful than before? How could you give me even more pleasure?”
“Look who’s talking.” She dragged his head down to her, twisting beneath him, bringing him fully on top of her.
He started to kiss her, caress her, but she was too inflamed. She clamped her legs around his waist, thrusting herself against his intact arousal.
He eased her down, unlocked her legs and rose between her splayed thighs, probing her with a finger, then two. Her flesh clamped around their delicious invasion, but it was him she needed inside her. She was flowing for him. He attempted to soothe her frenzy, clearly wanting to take it slower this time. She wouldn’t survive slower. Her heartbeats felt as if they’d race each other to a standstill.
“Just take me, Vincenzo,” she cried, undulating beneath him, her breasts turgid and aching, her core on fire. “I’ve needed you inside me for so long…so long…and having you once only made me want more….”
“After six endless years without this, without you, you’ll have more, as much as you can survive.” He bore her down into the mattress, driving air from her lungs. “Now I take my fill of you. And you take your fill of me. Take it all, Gloria mia.”
And he plunged inside her.
Her scream was stifled with that first craved invasion, that elemental feeling of his potency filling her, like a burning dawn, scorching everything away as it spread. He kept plunging deeper, feeling as if he’d never bottom out. Then he did, nudging against what felt like the center of her being. He relented at her scream, resting against the opening of her womb and stilling inside her, overfilling her, inundating her with sensations both agonizing and sublime.
Then the need for him to conquer her rose. Her legs clamped around his back; her heels dug into his buttocks, urging him on; her fractured moans begged for everything, insane for the assuagement of his full power and possession. And he answered, drowning her in a mouth-mating as he drove her beyond ecstasy, beyond her limits, winding that coil of need inside her tighter and tighter with each thrust.
Then he groaned for her to come for him and all the tension spiked and splintered, lashing out through her system in shock waves of excruciating gratification. His tongue filled her, absorbing her cries of pleasure as he filled her with his own, jet after jet of fuel over her fire.
He kissed her all through the descent, rumbling her name again and again, throbbing inside her until the tide receded and cell-deep bliss dragged her into its still, silent realm.
*
Glory had been awake for a while now.
She kept her eyes closed, regulating her breathing even as her heart stumbled.
From the flickering dimness illuminating her closed lids, she knew it was night again. Twenty-four hours or more had passed since Vincenzo had carried her into this chamber of pleasures. He had said he wasn’t coming up for air for at least that long. And he’d kept his promise. How he’d kept it.
After the first two times he’d made love to her, he’d carried her to the adjoining bathroom, an amalgam of old Castaldinian design and cutting-edge luxury. By the time he’d carried her back to bed, he’d melted her into too many orgasms to count. Then they’d spent hours reviving every sensual bond they’d formed