The Vatican - M.E. Clayton Page 0,17

probably get used to this view, baby, because we’re going to be in this position almost every fucking night if I have anything to say about.”

If I hadn’t had her hands pinned above her head, she’d claw my eyes out, no doubt. “I’m not marrying you, Benetti,” she spat. “You’re out of your mind if you think I am.”

“It’s me or it’s no one,” I told her plainly. “If you refuse to marry me, then you can kiss your dreams of children goodbye.” I knew she wanted kids. I’ve known it since we were little when she used to play dress up with her dolls.

“Get off me,” she demanded again, ignoring how much of a dick I was being.

Then, to prove my point home, I wedged my hips in between her legs, forcing her shirt to ride up. Her panties were her only shield of protection against anything I wanted to do to her. I pushed up, and if I thought she looked hateful before, she looked like she loathed me now.

I leaned down and nipped at her chin. “I don’t think so.”

Her voice sounded like icicles dripping with contempt. “I thought you had other women for this.” In that moment, I knew I was going to regret ever saying such a thing to her for the rest of my life. She was never going to let go of those words, and I had no one to blame but myself.

I pulled back and looked into those rare-colored eyes of hers and told her the truth. “I did. But I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Fiore.” I purposely used the word ‘did’, so she’d know I was done with that shit. She was going to be my wife, and she was the only woman I would ever fuck again.

“Well, that’s just too damn bad,” she tossed back. “If you think you’re the best I’ve ever had, you’re wrong, Benetti. And I won’t settle for mediocre for the rest of my life.” Things were getting uglier by the second as she kept going straight for my balls. “I want to marry a man,” she continued. “Preferably, one who knows how to fuck.”

I wanted to kill her, but I knew she was only reacting to my barb about fucking other women. I fucking knew it, but her words still left their marks.

I pinned her wrists with one hand as the other reached down in between our bodies. “You need me to prove how good I am with my dick, Fiore?”

Her eyes widened, and she started bucking again. “Get off me.”

I ignored her.

Instead, I lifted my hips to make room for my hand, and I slipped two fingers inside the gusset of her panties. She was dry, but she wouldn’t be for long.

“Stop it!” she hissed. “Get off me!”

I leaned down until my lips were at her ear. “Don’t think you can ever challenge my manhood, and not pay the consequences, Fiore.”

My fingers started their journey through her plump folds, and soon they were sliding though. Saveria’s body was reacting to my touch, and my dick started throbbing painfully.

“I hate you,” she whispered with more passion than I’d ever seen before.

“I know,” I told her because I did know. Her hate was very real in this moment, but so was her arousal.

My teeth nipped at her jaw as I slid two fingers into her wet pussy. I almost groaned, but this was a battle of the wills right now. This wasn’t about how turned on I was. This was about proving to her that there’s more between us than an arrangement made by our parents so long ago. This was about proving to her that she wasn’t an assignment for me. I needed her to know that I wanted her despite that stupid betrothal.

I closed my eyes and whispered a silent thanks to God when Saveria’s hips moved to draw my fingers in deeper. “You like that, baby?”

“Benetti…”

My teeth clenched. I didn’t want her calling me Benetti. I wanted her to scream my first name. I wanted her to breathe it like a prayer the way she did that first night. I wanted us to be Francisco and Saveria, not Benetti and Fiore.

“Fuck, your pussy’s tight around my fingers, Ria,” I groaned against her lips. “I can’t wait to feel it wrapped around my cock again.”

She started moaning, and my fingers started getting sloppy. I pulled them out to play with her clit, her folds, her entrance…everywhere. I even dipped them