Temporarily His Princess (Married by Royal Decree 1)

“Gloria mia?”

She’d heard him crooning her name in her waking dreams before. Logically speaking, everything that had culminated in their wedding night had to be some lovelorn hallucination….

Every nerve in her body fired in unison as the hand cupping her breast started caressing it to the fullness of need again.

Okay. None of her tormenting phantasms had felt that real. That good. That meant that even if it made no sense whatsoever, Vincenzo was really wrapped around her after a night of magic beyond her wildest fantasies.

Then his silk-covered leg drove between hers, pressing just where she needed. He must have sensed she was awake. Or her heart must have been shaking the whole bed.

No use pretending to be asleep now.

She opened her eyes. The best sight in existence filled her vision. Vincenzo. His every line thrown into relief by stark shadows and the illumination of the gibbous moon pouring from the open window. But it was his expression that had her on the verge of crushing herself against him and weeping.

She must be seeing what she longed to see. Or she was superimposing what she felt on him. He couldn’t be looking at her as if he couldn’t believe she was in his arms again. As if he was afraid to blink and miss one nuance of her, one second with her. As if he loved her. As if he’d always loved her.

As if responding to her need to escape the impossible yearnings, his expression shifted to another kind of passion as he weighed and kneaded her breast. “I think I will fulfill my fantasy, after all. I’ll keep you here as my pleasure slave.” She moaned, arched, pressed her breast harder into his big palm. Something elemental rumbled in his gut. “The way you respond to my every word and touch is pure magic. What you do to me by just existing is beyond even that.”

Her hips moved to yield to the erection that she was still stunned she could accommodate. Her moan grew louder as he expanded and hardened even more. “It’s only fair that I turn you inside out like you do me.”

Indulgence smoldered in his eyes. “So we’re even.”

“Not unless we play musical slaves.”

“After what you did to me last night, I might cheat and let you sit on the chair every time. I’ll let you sit anywhere you want, as many times and as long as you want.”

“Oh, I want. I want, Vincenzo.”

Unable to bear the emptiness inside her that only he could fill, she tried to drag him over and inside her. He resisted her, slid down her body, looking up as she twisted in his hold.

“I have a six-year hunger that I need to appease, gloriosa mia. Surrender to me, let me take my fill.”

And she collapsed, could do nothing but submit to his will and let him take everything he wanted, let him drive her to madness, over and over until he’d drained her dry of reason. Of worries. Of anything that wasn’t him.

*

When next she woke, it was night again, and she was alone.

Before dismay could register, the door creaked open and in Vincenzo walked with a huge, piled tray in his hands. In a molded gray shirt and pants, he looked like a god come down to earth to mess with mortals’ wills and jeopardize their souls.

His smile was indulgence itself as he put the tray aside to pull her up to a sitting position. The sheet fell off, exposing her breasts. As if he couldn’t help it, he bent and saluted each nipple with soft pulls, soothing the soreness she’d literally pummeled him to inflict on her.

He pulled back reluctantly. “No more temptation, princess.” He chuckled at her pout. “I’d do nothing but service and pleasure Your Royal Voluptuousness nonstop, but I have to refuel you so you can withstand the week ahead.”

She sighed her pleasure as she sifted her fingers through the thick, silky depths of his hair. “I’ve been holding up pretty well for the past two days. What’s so different about the week ahead?”

“First, for the past two days you haven’t even left this room. You have been mostly flat on your back—or belly—and apart from a couple of memorable instances, I’ve been doing all the work.” She smacked him playfully, giggling, her body priming itself again at the memory of all the “work” he’d done. “But I’m going to demand more of your participation over the next week, as it’s all the time I have for our honeymoon. My post back in New York starts next week.”

Her heart plummeted. That soon?

She must have looked as crestfallen as she felt. He smoothed her tousled bangs out of her eyes, his tone urgent. “I’ll only work by day. The nights, I’m all yours.”

She smiled, hating that she’d made him feel bad for having to work. “It’s okay. I need to get back to work myself.”

His eyes flared with possessiveness as he slid the sheet totally off her. “During the days only, Gloriosa mia. The nights are mine.”

She nodded dreamily as she squeezed her breasts and thighs together to mitigate their aching throb. “Yes.”

His eyes glazed over as he pushed her thighs apart, sliding two fingers between her soaked folds. “And afternoons and lunch breaks and whenever I can squeeze you in.”

Her legs fell apart, inviting his fingers inside; her breasts jutted for him to squeeze away. “Oh, yes.”

Her response tore away any intentions to prioritize food as he fell on her breasts again, suckling, his fingers plunging inside her, pumping. She poured fuel on his fervor, kneading his erection, sinking her teeth into his shoulders.

“Dio, Gloria mia, you make me insane….”

His growl was driven as he descended over her, pushed her flat on her back, impacting her with his full weight and rising between her spread legs only enough to free himself.

Then, without preliminaries, he drove into her, tearing a shriek from her depths. He rammed inside her in a furious rhythm, plunging deeper with every thrust, growling like a beast. The expansion inside her around his girth and length, the feeling of being totally dominated and mastered, had her sobbing, pleasure twisting tighter inside her until she feared she’d unravel once it snapped.

He rose on outstretched arms. “Look at us, Gloria mia, look what I’m doing to you, look how you’re taking me….”

She looked, and the sight of the daunting column of flesh disappearing inside her, spreading her, joining them, made her thrash at the carnality of it, the beauty.

Then the tightness was quickening inside her, the familiar crescendo, her flesh fluttering around his girth.

He felt it, fell on her breasts, suckling hard, biting, triggering her. “Come for me, gloriosa, come all over me. Finish me with your pleasure as I finish you.”