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Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Saverio

I need to change.

It’s almost time for Anya to come home.

I showered in the downstairs bathroom after my physiotherapy session, but I’m still wearing the same sweaty T-shirt and tracksuit pants.

Admitting defeat, I hoist myself into the wheelchair that the therapist purposefully left in the study and wheel my ass to the elevator.

In the dressing room, I pause in front of my closet. It’s been a while since I’ve worn a suit, yesterday excluded. Not that I need to prance around the house in a three-piece and a tie. The clothes just make me feel more in control. I guess I’m not so different from my ex-wife in that regard. That’s why I wore a suit when I got discharged from the hospital. I wanted to show the world I’m still in control.

Opting for a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweats, I change right there in the wheelchair. I don’t bother with underwear. I have to do a one-arm pushup on the armrest just to get the sweatpants over my hips. I’ve just lowered myself back in the seat when Anya walks in.

My gaze locks on her reflection in the mirror. She’s wearing a cute pinstriped blazer with stylish, skinny slacks that end just above her ankles. She paired the outfit with sexy-as-hell kitty heels. She did a curly thing with her hair, the spirals hanging low down her back. The nipples that pebble under her silk blouse where her jacket has fallen open make my mouth go dry. For a moment, I simply sit there, unable to look away or to formulate words.

She kicks off her heels in her stride and dumps a paper bag in my lap on her way to her side of the closet. “Dinner.”

I look at the bag with the fatty stains seeping through the paper. It smells like burger and fries.

“I couldn’t be bothered to cook,” she says with a weary sigh, grabbing a T-shirt and leggings from a shelf. “Since you’re not joining us at the table, I thought you’d prefer to eat—” She looks over her shoulder at the only thing that can serve as a table—the vanity counter. “Wherever.”

I can’t stop myself from asking, “Where’s Claire?”

“In her crib. I left the monitor with Livy.” She opens a drawer and takes out a black velvet bag. “I need a shower.”

My cock takes notice. Because I know what’s in that bag.

When she heads past me to the door, I grab her wrist. “Where are you going with that?”

“With what?” she asks, making big, innocent eyes.

I home in on the color of those eyes that reminds me of sunsets, whisky, and melted gold. “Don’t play games with me. Do you think I forgot where you keep your vibrator? My face is damaged, not my brain.”

“It’s been a long day.” She pulls free and continues on her way. “I need release.”

Fuck.

My dick goes so stiff it leaves my head dizzy.

Like hell.

I dump the food on the vanity and go after her, maneuvering the wheelchair to cut off her access to the bathroom. “You don’t need a vibrator for that.”

“No?” She raises a brow. “Are you offering to fulfill your marital duties? I thought you wanted me to leave. Or did you change your mind?”

I haven’t. Kicking her out is for the best, but I can’t handle the thought of her getting off behind the bathroom door with battery-operated silicone. Not when my cock is so hard I’m going to suffer a serious case of blue balls. Never thought I’d be jealous of a vibrator, but I hate the content of that little black bag so much right now I’m already scheming about removing the batteries and hiding every Duracell in the house.

“You want to come?” I ask, already riding that idea hard enough in my mind to shoot my load.

She crosses her arms. “Step aside so that I can get myself off and go to bed. I have a long day tomorrow.”

“Sorry, treasure. Not gonna happen.”

I go closer, pluck the bag from her fingers, and toss it through the air. It falls somewhere on the bed. Holding her gaze, I pop the button on her waistband and pull down the zipper. She bites her lip and frowns, but she doesn’t push me away, so I take that as a yes. My hand is in her pants before she has time to gasp. I continue where I left off in the study, doing what I never had a chance of starting by sliding my middle finger into the tight heat between her legs.

She cries out and grabs my biceps when I start to move. It’s been a month and a half, and she had a baby. Mindful of the changes her body went through, I stretch her carefully with one finger until her inner muscles soften, and then I give her two.

“Sav,” she moans.

That little cry for more entices me to work her harder. I’m afraid the moment will vanish into thin air if she or I come to our senses. Before I can change my mind, I lock my free hand around her nape and pull her down for a kiss.

The second our lips touch, I know. I admit what I didn’t want to face yesterday. There’s no backing out of this. Not anymore. No, never. I never stood a chance.

Her pussy grips my fingers tighter. Small flutters ripple through her inner walls. I curl the digits trapped inside her and use my thumb to rub circles over her clit.

“I’m going to—” She throws back her head and makes a pretty, throaty sound.

I let her come on my fingers and finish in my hand. I have no idea how I make it onto my feet. All I register is that I don’t want her to get away. I walk her backward to the bed with my hand in her panties and my fingers buried in her pussy while kissing her with the savage hunger of a man who’s been deprived for too long.

A day without being inside her is too much.

A night not sleeping next to her is torture.

A month is nothing short of hell.

I reverse our positions and sit before pulling her with me. My back hits the mattress. I guide her down onto me with my hand on the back of her head, starting to pump my fingers inside her again. She’s slick and welcoming, her pussy greedily sucking my fingers deeper. I only release her long enough to push that snazzy blazer over her shoulders, trapping her arms behind her back.

One moment, she’s sprawled out on top of me, and next, I’m pinning her on her stomach underneath me and yanking her pants over her hips.

“All right?” I ask, mindful of her C-section wound. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” she whimpers. “Nicole gave me the go-ahead.”

I already know that because I make a point of getting updates from her ob-gyn. All the doctor’s warnings of taking it easy with my wounds, however, fly from my head once I have her almost naked. That peachy ass has always been the death of me. I swing an arm around her waist and lift her to me while driving my cock inside her with the same movement. Bracing my body on one elbow, I sink deep. As far as I can go.

“Breathe, treasure. Relax for me. Let me in.”

Her ribs expand as she fills her lungs with air. When she lets it out, I push deeper. I sink in inch by inch until she’s taken all of me.

“You’re so damn tight, Anya.”

It feels right, like this is where she belongs, even though I know better. This is wrong. There’s only one thing that can make the bitter taste of wrong sweeter. I pull out and slide back in, setting a careful, steady pace until she gets the rhythm and follows my lead.

When she pushes back against my groin and I no longer have to hold her up, I use the blazer like a rope to reel her in and keep her where I want her while pumping into her slick pussy.

“Harder,” she says, panting as she glances over her shoulder at me.

“Anya.” I say her name with a warning. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ll tell you if I can’t take it.”

This woman. She messes with my control. Letting loose, I fuck her so hard I almost break my cock in two.

“Sav!”

Damn it. I somewhat come to my senses. Kissing her neck, I ask, “Am I too rough?”

“No, it feels good.”

That’s all the encouragement I need. I flip her around, trapping her arms behind her back. Those pretty tits. Need to see them.

Buttons fly as I rip her blouse in my haste to get it open. I pull down the cups of her lacy bra, and then her gorgeous breasts spill over. I lick a cherry-pink nipple before sucking it gently into my mouth while rolling the other into a hard point between my fingers. I keep my touch light, knowing she’s sensitive.

She moans, arching her back and urging me to take more. “We should be careful with your wounds.”

I release her breast only long enough to say in a gruff voice, “I’m fine,” before continuing my exploration.

When I’ve had my fill of those pretty curves, I kiss my way down her body, pausing on her stomach to admire the scar running over her pelvis. I already love that scar more than a war hero loves his battle stripes.

She squirms when I move lower. I lick her slit from top to bottom while working her pants down her thighs. God, I missed her taste. I trail wet kisses down her inner thighs and calves until I’ve freed her feet. In this position, the blood flow is restricted in her arms. She’ll feel pins and needles soon, so I hurry to remove my own sweatpants. When we’re both naked from the waist down, I grab the velvet bag from the center of the bed and shake out the contents.

“Sav,” she says with big eyes—not acting this time—when I uncap the gel.

“Shh.” I kiss her to shut her up. “I know what I’m doing.”

She’s quiet, trusting, and it loosens something in my chest. I smear a generous amount of gel around her clit before rubbing it in. She bucks beneath me, her whole body straining as I watch that little nub swell right before my eyes.

I’m going to buy ten tubes of stimulating gels.

I go back to massaging her clit, simultaneously spreading the heat and giving her the friction she needs. When her lower body contracts, I grip the root of my cock and drag the shaft through her slick folds. I don’t want to penetrate her yet because I’m too close to coming, and I want to make this last.

I circle the crown around her clit, making her a promise. “This time, you’re coming on my cock.”

The gel mixes with her arousal and my precum, easing my way. It only takes two seconds before I feel it.

God fucking damn.

An inferno of heat rushes over the crest and down my shaft until flames cover my entire dick. The burn turns from hot to ice-cold in another second until, finally, a cool sizzle settles under my skin. My cock swells to a painful size. The pressure in my balls increases. Everything pulls tight.

“Goddamn, Anya.”

It’s the cruelest torture. I can’t hold back. The icy burn flares when I sink inside her. Her heat triggers a deeper burn that reminds me of that time I peeled chilies and ended up with my fingertips on fire. They burned the whole night long. Running cold water over them only aggravated the scorching heat under my skin.

“Move, Sav,” she moans, sounding in as much agony as I am. Her breath is sweet and warm on my lips. “Please.”

I frame her face between my hands and thrust. It only takes a few strokes before she throws back her head and falls apart with a mewl. Her inner muscles clamp down, triggering my own release. I kiss her as my climax erupts and that cold heat reaches an uncomfortable level. I hold her to me and pour my release into her body, filling her with hot ribbons of cum. I empty every drop inside her before rolling us onto our sides without breaking our contact. Her pussy flutters with aftershocks that continue to milk my cock long after I’m dry.

“Arms,” she breathes against my neck.

I pull off her blazer and rub her arms to get her blood circulation going while locking her to me by throwing my good leg over her thigh. She’s still wearing the blouse I tore and the lacy bra underneath. I haven’t removed my T-shirt, but I prefer to keep it on. It hides the unsightly scars and bumpy flesh. I want to stay like this, inside her, and fall asleep while the burn slowly dissipates to leave a residue tingle under our skins. I drag that unique smell of sunshine and flowers into my lungs, filling my nostrils with her scent and reveling in the fact that our breathing evens out in tandem.

Too late, I remember I haven’t fed her. I didn’t ask if she’d eaten a greasy burger and fries. I should’ve thought about dinner, about ordering a healthy meal instead of making her stop for take outs.

Tomorrow.

I’ll feed her tomorrow.

I pull her closer, knowing it’s a mistake, but I’d rather hack off my good leg than let her go.

I’m every bit the monster I am on the inside on the outside now, a nightmare to look at and a broken man that will never be whole again, but she had her chance. I played fair. I gave her an out. She didn’t take it.

Her bad, my gain.

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