My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon

He doesn’t approach me so much as he stalks toward me like a lion. And like a stupid gazelle, I stand stock-still and let him. Lorenzo picks up my hand from my side, kissing the back the way he did that first night. “You are brighter than the sun, deeper than the moon, lovelier than the stars.”

And wetter than the sea, I think. Luckily, my mouth and brain are working together for once and I manage to keep that to myself this time.

“You don’t have to do that, you know? Say all that romantic stuff,” I tell him, ducking my chin down. “I get it. It’s fake. Been there, done that with my family, except I’m smart enough to not get caught in the ‘feels’ trap.”

He lifts my chin with his other hand. “I’m Italian. We are romantic. I simply say what I think.”

He makes it sound like he really does think those lovely things about me, but how can he when I’ve gotten him into this mess?

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, offering him one more chance to back out.

Before he can answer, there’s a loud knock on the door. Emily and Doug are right on time.

Lorenzo steps closer, his body a breath away from mine as he whispers, “Trust me?”

I have no idea what he’s asking, but I nod because what else am I gonna do? We’re about to go to dinner and pretend like we’re happy newlyweds with someone who could blow up my entire social circle, and likely my professional life, with a single well-placed word.

Lorenzo walks me backward until my back hits the wall. I gasp, surprised. But he’s not done.

“Trust me,” he orders softly.

And with that, he picks me to straddle him and slams my back against the door with a thump. It rattles loudly behind me.

“Fuck, Abigail. Quick, mia rosa. Come on my cock before your friends get here or they’re going to hear me fucking you deep and hard. I want your cum on me and my cum in you while we sit at this prim and proper dinner, wife.”

I gasp, both at his filthy talk and the ridge of his cock pressing against my core.

“Ungh.” I can’t make words, am barely making incoherent sounds, and Lorenzo lifts one hand from my thigh to hold my head still. He meets my eyes, one of his brows lifted pointedly.

If I couldn’t feel his cock, I wouldn’t even know what this is doing to him. For all the fire rushing through my body and turning my brain to melted goo, he’s clear-eyed and has a plan.

I blink and realize what he’s doing.

Emily needs to think we’re newlyweds, and what do newlyweds do non-stop? Fuck.

Now that I’ve caught on, he winks at me and I smile back.

He thrusts against me and I bounce on the door. “Yes, hard . . . just like that,” I moan.

He grunts, finding a pace that is actually doing a lot for me even though I just came in the shower a bit ago. I’d be embarrassed at the wet heat of my core, but his cock jumps against me. I like that he’s carried away too as he dry humps me, only hinting at what we’re playacting.

“Take it. Take me, Abigail,” he hisses through clenched teeth. Is that for effect or is he holding the reins that tightly?

“Yes, my Italian Stallion!” I cry out, clawing at his shoulders for purchase.

Confusion mars his face as he mouths, “Italian Stallion?”

I shake my head and whisper back, “I don’t know, it just came out.”

He grins like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard and goes back to thrusting against me with renewed furor. “That’s it, mia rosa. Are you going to come for me?”

Oh, shit. I am.

Like I am . . . for real.

Any sane, rational, reasonable person would tilt their hips and move away from the power of his thrusts to save a little face. Do I? Absolutely not. If anything, I’m humping him back, riding him like the pony at my sixteenth birthday party. Don’t laugh . . . it was an amazing blowout. Like I’m about to have . . .

“Yes, yes. Right there, Lorenz-ohh!” He pulls me tight against him, his cock grinding against my clit as he grunts through several short strokes and says something I don’t understand in Italian.

Is he? Did he?

As I float back to Earth and realize what just happened, there’s another knock on the door. This one is harder and louder. “Hey, Abi! We have reservations, you know?” Emily yells through the wood, literally inches away from where I just loudly came on Lorenzo’s cock for real.

But while she’ll think it's part of the newlywed thing, he doesn’t need to know that my knees are knocking and my legs are Jell-O as he lowers me back to the floor.