The Italian

He lifts my dress over my head, tosses it aside, and his lips dust my neck. We are back at the apartment in Roma—the one where we spent our first weekend together in.

His wife. Mrs Ferrara.

Suddenly, I’m desperate. Desperate to have him naked. I tear his shirt over his shoulders and throw it to the side. He gives me a slow, sexy smile and holds his hands out wide. “I’m all yours, my love.”

“Literally.” I undo his jeans and slide them down his legs to reveal his perfectly thick cock that’s hanging heavily between his legs. Thick veins run down the length of it.

He is one beautiful man.

Mine.

Unable to help it, and with a new sense of urgency, I drop to the floor in front of him and take him in my mouth.

This is it. This man and this body will be mine for life.

He hisses as he strokes my hair. “Yes, Bella,” he whispers darkly.

I keep going and going, and then he drags me to my feet and throws me on the bed. He moves over me, and in one swift motion, he slides in deep.

“Ah,” he hisses. “I love you, Olivia.” His dark eyes are locked on mine, and his hands trace my face, as if he’s memorizing every inch. His knees are wide to give him traction, and I lift my legs higher around his body, encasing his perfection.

“I want you deep,” I moan. God, I don’t think he can get deep enough today. I want every inch of him.

He inhales sharply and slams in hard, and I throw my head back with a laugh.

We can’t make gentle love if our lives depended on it.

This man makes me bad to the bone… and I fucking love it.

It’s been the most romantic night of our lives, and I can already see we are going to fuck like animals.

“Are you going to fuck me like this when we are married?” I tease.

He slams in hard. “Forever.”

* * *

Rici is wrapped around me like a blanket. My head is on his chest, and his lips rest on my forehead. We’ve made sweet, tender love well into the morning. I’m on an all-time high. I think way back to the two occasions I have been hurt when he left me. It all seems so long ago now, but even with all that devastation and heartbreak, I would do it all again to get where we are today. This is a closeness that we’ve earned, and I think the hard times have only made us a stronger unit.

“Where do you want to get married?” he asks.

I look up at him, surprised at the question. “Here, in Italy.” He frowns down at me. “Really?”

I shrug. “I’m not into big fancy things like your family are. If we got married in Australia, half of Italy would have to travel, whereas I have, like, twenty people I would want there.”

“Thank you. It would kill my mother if I didn’t marry here.”

“What do you think she’s going to say when you tell her?”

We decided not to call anyone tonight. We wanted to bask in the excitement alone for the weekend. Secretly, I think that Rici didn’t want anyone spoiling our excitement with the ‘you barely know each other’ talk.

We don’t care what they think. We know what this is.

“I shall look into next month then,” he says casually.

“Oh, you want the engagement party that soon?”

“No. I want the wedding that soon.” “A month.” I scoff. “We can’t organize a wedding in a month, Enrico. I have so much to do. I need at least… I don’t know… three months.”