“Good girl,” he murmured, grabbing my chin with his fingers, pulling my head up higher as his head lowered down, his lips sealing over mine again as he started thrusting again.
My hand moved up and down his cock, driving him up with me, wanting him as far gone as I was.
It wasn’t long before he was yanking his mouth away as his hand pushed mine away and off of him.
His hand went there instead as his fingers slid out of me. He urged my thigh upward as he pressed closer to me.
His cock stroked up and down my cleft several times, tapping the head against my throbbing clit, making a needy moan escape me.
The sound seemed to be his undoing.
His cock slipped down and slammed inside me, one hard, deep thrust, filling me completely, stretching me with just a pinch of discomfort.
“Fuck,” Primo hissed, his fingers sinking into my hip as he froze inside me, buried impossibly deep.
He was looking for some sort of control.
But at that moment, I didn’t want him to have that.
I wanted him as desperate for release as I felt.
My hips started moving in impatient circles, making me acutely aware of each thick inch of him.
Primo’s head pulled back, watching me with those heavy-lidded eyes. I got to watch as his eyes closed a bit each time my hips rolled and my walls tightened around him.
“Primo, please,” I whimpered, needing him to move, needing release from the aching desire inside. “Please,” I begged again.
That seemed to break through.
Because he went from being completely still to fucking me in the span of a single breath.
There was nothing slow or sweet about it.
He fucked me.
Hard.
Fast.
Deep.
Taking every inch of me with each thrust.
My arms went up, wrapping around his shoulders, holding on as he fucked me harder and harder, the sounds of my moans, his groans and curses, and our bodies slamming together filled my ears.
“Don’t stop,” I cried, feeling pushed right toward that edge, and dying to be shoved over, to freewill into the orgasm. “Please don’t stop,” I pleaded as my face pressed into his chest.
“Come for me, lamb,” he demanded, voice tight. “Come,” he urged even as my walls started to spasm, even as the pleasure got a tight grip on my system.
I was pretty sure it was his name I cried out over and over as the first waves crashed through me, the intensity of which I wasn’t even aware existed before.
“Fuck, Isabella,” Primo groaned, thrusting through my orgasm, dragging it out, making it last, before finally slamming deep, his whole body jerking hard as he came.
I couldn’t tell you how long I clung to him as the unexpected aftershocks racked my system, but by the time my brain seemed to kick back in.
Everything seemed to come at me at once.
I slept with Primo. Which absolutely would have an impact on our dynamic. I couldn’t claim I didn’t want him anymore. I couldn’t keep throwing this forced marriage in his face if I clearly enjoyed being with him.
Second, I’d just let him fuck me without any protection. Without protection. I’d always been insanely careful about things like that. I took my Pill. I used condoms. Always. I’d literally never let someone have that level of intimacy with me before. Not only was that a huge deal to me, but I’d also, you know, been ripped from my life. Which meant I didn’t have my Pills.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
But even as those thoughts were crossing my mind, so was another one.
Primo was shot.
He was shot, and I could feel the hot, sticky blood from his wound moving down my side.
My hands pressed into his chest and pushed him backward.
“You’re bleeding,” I told him, feeling a little frazzled and overwhelmed and a little bit, well, horrified.
“And you’re dripping with my come,” he said, making my whole body jolt at his words.
“You’re an asshole,” I snapped, shoving him back a step so I could slip off the counter.
“Yeah, but you’re the one who wants to fuck me,” he agreed as I did a penguin waddle toward the shower. Thankfully, Primo was busy getting his cock back in his boxer briefs and pants, so he wasn’t looking.
Reaching in, I turned the shower on full tilt before ripping off my shirt, and moving inside. Looking down, I could see his blood spread all over my stomach, hip, and thigh. I looked like a freaking crime scene.
I went right to scrubbing at the blood with the soap until all traces of it were off me before I even let my gaze slip back toward the rest of the bathroom.
And there was Primo, bent forward, looking down at his wound. One hand was placed over the top of it, stretching the skin taut, while the other hand reached for a long tweezer, and started to dig inside his wound.