23. Too much

TWENTY-THREE

That's what he thinks. Me? I might not have my hands on that knife, and he vanishes it as quickly as he used it to get rid of my clothes, but I don't need to destroy his basketball shorts to move my weight so that I can dip my hand past the waistband and release his cock.

The last time we fucked, Damien was in complete control. I was with him all the way, but there's no denying that I just went along for the ride. Right now? My chest is heaving, my pussy is soaked, his dick is in my hand, and there's a dare mingled with anticipation written all over his face.

He wants me to take the lead. One of the most powerful men in all of Springfield, and I have him at my mercy. He's dying for me to fuck him, but he's leaving this one up to me.

As if I can resist.

I'm so wet, it takes a little concentration to line his cock up with the entrance to my pussy. He slid the first time, bumping into the top of my mound, hitting my clit. Probably because he's not even trying to help me, either.

It as though he's decided that, if I want to fuck him, this time he's going to make me do the fucking.

No doubt I'll regret this later. But in the moment, I finally lodge the head of his cock inside of me. Rising up on my knees, I adjust my angle, then sink down until I've taken all of him inside next.

I had no choice. Gravity helped me out on that one, but the fact that I'm so damn hot for this man… with the amount of juices I created in preparation of fucking this man, there's no resistance once I have him right where I want him. I sink down, my groin touching his now with nothing between us, and I dig my fingers into the material of his tank as I hold myself in place on top of him.

"Dio mio," breathes out Damien as I squeeze him. "I didn't think anything could be as good as it was when I took you at the dinner, but I was wrong."

I stick the tip of my tongue out between my teeth. "I gotta make note of the date. Damien Libellula admitting he was wrong… that must be a first."

"No," he says, jerking his hips so that he can thrust a little. "I know when I'm wrong. An honest man will admit his faults. But if you want to see a first… it's a desperate man begging his wife to move."

"You want me to climb off of you? I mean, if that's what you want…"

His hands have been on my waist, holding me in position while I worked on getting his cock inside my pussy. He kept them there after I swallowed him whole, but while he keeps the left one in place, the right one moves.

Thwack.

I jump, and the result is that I squeeze his dick again, leaving him to moan under his breath.

That's not all. He slapped my ass, I did move, and because I moved forward, that plus the pressure of his cock pushing against my inner walls sent a massive jolt of pleasure toward my clit.

Holy fucking shit, that was amazing. So amazing that, chasing the high of that sensation, I start to ride Damien's cock.

"Look at you. I wanted you to move, ragna mia, and you thought you were being smart. But a nice spank was enough to make you do just what your husband wanted you to. Such a good girl. You deserve another one. Yes?"

I swallow roughly. "Yes."

Thwack.

"Damien—"

"Husband. Savannah, I am your husband. When I'm inside you, call me that or else?—"

I raise my eyebrows as I lean forward, changing the angle of his penetration as I continue to fuck him. "What, Damien? You'll spank me again?"

Lifting up, meeting my thrusts so that it's more like I'm bouncing on top of him than moving at a slow, leisurely pace, he slides his hand down the curve of my stinging ass. "No. If you don't call me your husband, I won't spank you at all."

That's fucking low. Now that I know how amazing that feels?

"Fine. Husband."

Thwack.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why does that feel so fucking good?"

Damien laughs as he reaches between us, using his magic hand to rub my clit now. He must be able to tell that I'm already chasing my orgasm, courtesy of his slaps, and the way he controls my body so easily in other ways has me clenching down on him as I explode around his cock.

"Because you're fucking your husband, wife," he says as I keen out a whine, too distracted by the sensations rushing through me to really pay attention to what he's saying—until he takes advantage to my lapse to flip me onto my back as easily as he did before.

"And now it's time for your husband to fuck you, Savannah."

My legs are already feeling weak from my climax. That doesn't stop Damien from lifting up one of them, hooking it over his shoulder so that he can fuck me even deeper.

And even though I can't bring myself to believe that this man will ever truly be my husband, I let him.

Because, at this moment, I can pretend…

I lay on the mat,too boneless to roll over and find my shorts. Then I remember that Damien used his stiletto to slice through the fabric of both those and my panties so that he could get to my pussy easier. They're basically useless now.

Oh, well.

Damien is perched on his side, propped up on his elbow so that he could look down at me with that daring half-smile of his. Apart from the sweat slicking his hairline, and the way his tank is molded to his chest, he looks as perfect as he did when we started. This man has a whole decade on me, but I'm the one who's panting heavily as I come down from my orgasm.

Smirking now, he moves his free hand so that he's playing with the curls covering my pussy. At least, that's what I thought he was doing until he dips his pointer inside of me.

"There."

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure that stays inside of you where it belongs."

His come? Why would he do that. Propping up on my elbows now, I say, "It doesn't matter. Your swimmers are cut-off. You're shooting blanks."

"I was. My surgeon told me that it could take anywhere between a month and year before sperm returns to the semen. I have an analysis scheduled at the two-month mark, but I just got the all clear to return to strenuous activities." He runs his hand over my thigh, squeezing the inner side of it. "And I think we can both agree that was pretty strenuous."

I'm confused. Did he just fuck the sense out of me? He might've, because I don't know what he's talking about.

"Huh? What?"

"My vasectomy reversal."

"You got it reversed? When?"

"Two weeks ago. Didn't you notice how careful I have to be with my cock? I promise you, those two weeks were hell, knowing that I wanted nothing more than fuck my wife, but I couldn't until the swelling went down. But for you, I did it."

I'm sitting up straight now. "You did? Why?"

"Because I saw the look on your face when you'd learned I'd had one done. Because I only did because, if I did have children, they would be with my wife. You are my wife. So I had the procedure done. It's not a full-proof guarantee that we will have children one day, but in case you want to try… I'd give them to you if that's what you want. I'd give you anything."

Anything, it seems, but my freedom.

The reality of that is like a bell clanging deep inside of my mind. It echoes, making me want to cover my ears. But since Damien would probably take that the totally wrong way, I just use my hands to start climbing back up again.

"Savannah?"

"I'm okay." No, I'm not. "I just… that was a lot. The training, I mean. I think I'd like to go upstairs, shower, change, and maybe take a nap."

Or, you know, try to make some sort of sense of what Damien just told me.

"Of course." Quicker than me, he gets to his feet. "Here. Let me help you up."

"No. I got it."

Damien makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Please, amore. Let me help you."

Amore… I don't need to know any Italian to take a stab at what that means.

I hold out my hand. Without a word, he lifts me easily so that I'm now standing.

And that's when I realize that I don't have anything to cover me from the waist down.

It's fine. The only people allowed in this house are members of Damien's immediate family. Genevieve will turn her back and cover her eyes at any reminder that her forty-year-old brother fucks, and if Vin happens to catch a glimpse of my bare ass, I don't think Damien will care?—

He holds up a finger. "One moment, cara mia." He pulls off his baseball shorts, then his boxer briefs. Handing me his underwear before stabbing his legs back into the shorts, he commands, "Put these on."

Damien's used underwear?

I just had his bare cock inside of me. He came, too, and used his finger to make sure his creampie didn't immediately drip down my thighs. It is now—and I'm so sticky, I can't wait to shower—but I draw the line at pulling on his boxer briefs.

"I'm good, thanks."

A muscle ticks in his jaw. He gestures at my lower half. "Fine, but if I find out you paraded around like that in front of my cousin, I will slap that ass red—but not before I pluck out his eyeballs for seeing something that's meant only for your husband."

Oh. Um. Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe he will care if Vin sees.

"Are you serious? He's your blood."

"He was born into being a Libellula. You were chosen. Never forget that for a moment."

Chosen? "What are you on about, Damien? You didn't marry me because you wanted to or some shirt like that. You were punishing me for trying to kill you. That's all."

And I've never forgotten that for a moment.

I have to go. I also don't want to be the reason Damien turns on his cousin so, as gross as it is, I shrug on his warm boxer briefs to that I can get out of here without him trying to stop me again?—

"Is that what you think?"

Shuddering out a breath, my back to Damien, I admit to myself that's what I know.

Next thing I know, he's there. His hands are on my shoulders, easing me around so that I'm facing him, and he's there.

"You're wrong. I didn't marry you to punish you. If anything, I was punishing myself."

"I don't… I don't understand."

Damien lowers his hands so that they're on my back again. Pushing me toward him, tucking me under his chin, he suddenly has me in an embrace so comforting, he could whisper in my ear that he's lying, that it's his turn to stab me in the back… and I'd let him.

But he doesn't. Instead, he says, "What is love if not obsession? From the moment I first saw your face, there was something in it I saw that I wanted. That I recognized. I've spent so many years looking for the perfect partner… for Gen's sake, for the Family… and I'd just about given up. Sex was about release, not affection. But then you… I looked forward to seeing you watch me. Of course, I didn't know then why you hated me. Why you had a perfectly good reason to blame me for your stay in prison?—"

My stomach lurches. "Damien, I?—"

"Shh. Let me finish, amore. I didn't know any of that then. To be honest, I don't think I would've cared. I've ruined many lives to get where I am."

"You've helped some, too," I have to admit. "Liz. Frankie and Annette. Your cook?—"

"Again, making me the good guy. But since I met you, Savannah… I want to be that guy. But how could I when you only married me because I gave you no choice? It wasn't a punishment. It was an opportunity. You stabbed me, and in that moment of clarity that followed the excruciating pain, I saw my chance to make you mine. So long as you didn't kill me, I could have the one woman who's caught and kept my attention over the years."

I gulp, threading my fingers behind Damien's back. Because, somehow, I'm clinging to him as tightly now. "Me?"

"You," he agrees, dropping a kiss to the top of my hair.

Pulling away just enough so that our eyes meet, Damien tells me, "I thought I'd get over it. That I would wake up and realize that I willingly tied myself to a woman who could never love me because of how much she hated me… but that never happened.

"And now," he murmurs, his forehead pressed to mine, our sweat-slicked bodies almost as entangled now as they were when we were fucking, "I don't ever want it to."

I almost tell him that he has nothing to worry about. That Savannah agreed to a sham marriage, already looking for a way out, but even if I had the chance to escape again? I wouldn't take it.

But I can't find the words.

That's okay.

Damien does.

"Understand this. My life belongs to you, ragna mia. Do with that what you will. Love me. Kill me. Just never, ever regret me. That's all I ask of you."

That's all?

But it might just be too much.