while the other one at my belly glides up the center of my chest and wraps around the front of my throat.
Touching my lips to the underside of his jaw, I slip my tongue out and taste him. I feel his chest rumble against my back as his fingers slide through my folds. Widening my legs, shamelessly, I jerk my hips against his touch.
I need so much.
I need more.
I need everything.
Massimo thankfully gives me exactly what I crave. He slips two fingers inside of me, his palm cupping me, applying pressure against my clit. I’m unable to control my movements. Shifting my hips, I moan at the sensation of his fingers inside of me and his palm against my clit—sensational.
“Please,” I breathe against his jaw.
He grunts, his chest rumbling behind me again. “Always, dolcezza. This… always. You never have to ask. It is always yours.”
I whimper when he removes his hands from me, I’m so close, moments from shattering in his arms. Massimo spins me around, his hands wrapping around my waist before he picks me up and without a word, tosses me as if I weigh less than a feather onto the bed.
“Spread,” he demands.
“Massimo—”
He shakes his head, effectively cutting off my words.
I’m not sure what I was going to say to him, anyway, maybe something like please take it slow? I smirk, knowing that trying to give him any order or request would fall on deaf ears. Massimo does what Massimo wants to do.
I watch as he sheds his clothes and every square inch of his body is revealed to me. Five years in prison has been very good to my husband. He’s bulkier than he was before he left, his body defined with muscle on top of muscle, but he’s not so big that he’s intimidating, he’s just… so nice.
I lick my lips at the sight, my eyes dragging down until I reach his hard length. That seems bigger too, even though I’m sure that it’s not. It’s just been that long since I’ve seen him in person.
My thighs spread on their own. My heels planting into the mattress, my knees bent. I open myself for my husband. Willingly, ready, and waiting for him to take me the way I’ve been dreaming about for five long years.
MASSIMO
My wife.
Someone that I thought I could live without. A woman that I now realize I could never survive without, I need her, in my life and in my bed. I could fuck anyone, but I’ve never found anyone that I’ve wanted to keep beside me until I met her and even after five years away, that has not changed.
“You’re too skinny,” I point out as I climb onto the bed.
Her lips twitch. “You’ve said that before. I drink too much and like to take painkillers, too.”
I snort. “That shit’ll kill you, dolcezza. I’ll get you some good smoke, yeah?”
She hums as I move between her thighs, spreading my knees to widen her legs, wrapping one of my hands around the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip.
Dipping my head, I touch my mouth to hers, licking her bottom lip before I press my forehead against her own. Aligning my cock with her center, I lift my head to look into her eyes.
I can tell that she’s high on her painkillers. I shake my head, cursing to myself that she’s hooked on that shit. Sliding my hand to her waist, I feel the scarred skin beneath my grip. Without a second thought, I slam inside of her, needing to feel her and remind myself that she is alive and safe in my arms—in my bed.
Pippa’s breath hitches as her head falls back. I growl, feeling like a teenage boy fucking his first whore. I’m seconds from blowing my load, but I can’t. She has to get there.
Lowering my head, I touch my lips to the center of her throat. “Touch yourself, my beautiful girl,” I whisper against her skin.
She doesn’t hesitate, her hand moves between her legs and I groan as soon as I feel her fingers brush against my pelvis. Pulling out of her, I sink back inside slowly. My movements aren’t as hurried as my body craves them to be.
This isn’t just about me, isn’t about my satisfaction only, this is about Pippa. This is about trying to apologize the only way that I know how. This is about showing her that I’m here with her. I’m going to try and stay right here with her too.