“You bought me an art gallery,” she breathed, running a finger over one of the metal pillars. “Because I once told you that if I could be normal, this is what I’d want.”
“Yes.”
She turned to face me, her head tilting to the side as she approached. “You listen to me.”
“Always.” I tracked the roll of her hips as she took another couple of steps. “I love you.”
“Enough to buy me an art gallery based on my silly, whimsical dreams.” Her smile was breathtaking.
“Enough to give you the whole world if I could, Emilia.” Closer again… “Any dream, every wish…”
“You love me,” she repeated, and though I’d told her many times, sometimes she looked just like she did right now. As though she was only just realizing the true extent of how I felt about her.
She was my air, my sun, my everything. It frustrated me that she didn’t know it. I’d buy her a hundred art galleries if that was what it took to show her.
“More than anything in this world.”
“And you want me...” Now that, I knew she needed no reassurance on.
I lifted a brow. “Come here and find out just how much I want you, princess.”
She smiled and shrugged her cardigan off her shoulders as she closed the gap between us. Then she reached for the zip of her dress before slipping the straps free. One final step and she was in front of me, the material of her dress cascading down her body.
My gaze dropped to the perfection of her golden skin and lethal curves. Want was a hugely underwhelming word to describe how much I needed her wrapped around my cock right then. Always.
I fisted a handful of her hair and tilted her head back. “Are you already wet for me, amore mio?”
Her cheeks tinged pink, and I smiled. Every damn time. “You know I am,” she murmured.
I backed her toward the nearest metal pillar, and she hissed when the cold steel touched her bare skin. My mouth descended on hers, dominating, claiming, punishing, until she moaned against my lips and clawed at my shirt.
“Turn around and hold onto the pillar.”
She did, and I stroked over the silky skin of her back, slipping a hand between her legs. She was soaked when I pressed two fingers into her, that tight pussy clamping around my fingers, always begging for more. My little kitten was needy and demanding.
I pumped into her but didn’t touch her clit. She writhed and pushed back, chasing an orgasm I wouldn’t give her. Not yet. Not like this.
“Gio,” she whined.
I pulled my belt through the loops and wrapped it around her throat. She bit her bottom lip when the leather caressed her skin. Emilia loved to ride the fine line between submitting and fighting, pleasure and pain. It started as a way for her to cope with emotions, and like any crutch, I guess she became addicted to the emotional and physical release she found in it. So, of course, I gave it to her.
I unfastened my pants and released my dick before pressing it against her pussy. Her back bowed, neck pressing into the belt as she tilted her hips for me. My needy little wife.
“Tell me you’re mine, Emilia.”
“I’m yours,” she breathed.
I drove into her in one thrust, and she cried out, her pussy pulsing around me in a way that always threatened to send me over the edge. I bit her shoulder as that tight heat gripped me. Fuck, nothing had ever felt as good as her. “You take my cock like such a good girl.”
I pulled out and pushed in hard.
Her back bowed, fingers turning white as she gripped the beam harder. “Fuck, Gio.” She pushed back against me as though she could force me even deeper.
I gripped her hip with my free hand, fucking my way into her. “What do you need, princess?”
“Hurt me.” I loved when she asked for it rough. “Please,” she begged so sweetly.
I tightened my grip on the belt, hard enough to restrict her air but not enough to bruise. My other hand moved from her hip to her breast, pinching and rolling one nipple as I thrust into her.
“Gio.” She came, nails scratching over metal, pussy clenching around my dick until I let out a groan.
My balls tightened, and pleasure ripped down my spine as I came inside her, and all the while, she squeezed my cock in a vise grip. It was hard and fast and rabid because sometimes I couldn’t take my time with her. She was sheer, maddening perfection, and I would never get enough.
I rested my head against the back of her neck, our intermingled breaths echoing off the empty walls of the building.
My hand slid over her flat stomach, wishing it weren’t so flat. Soon. “I fucking love you.”