“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” I sigh.
“Harder for whom? Me or you?”
I don’t bother arguing with her anymore. She’s right. I was an asshole. But I had to do something drastic back then to get her to forget about me. I knew she would have gone against her father for me. She loved me. I wasn’t going to let anythinghappen to her, which was why I made up a scene for her to find, one I knew she’d never forgive. Unlike her, I reallydidn’thave a choice, and I also didn’t know I’d marry her one day and need that forgiveness as much as I do now.
“Not everything is black and white in our world, Antonia. Not everything is as it seems either,” I tell her as I pull into her father’s estate.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Think about it,” I say before opening the car door and getting out. I scan the property as I walk around to her side and open her door. She accepts my offered hand, surprising both of us, judging by the look on her face.
“Let’s get this done quick. I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to be.” She walks past me, up the stairs, and into the house.
I follow her into her bedroom and close the door behind us. “Huh.” I look around the space.
“What’shuh?” she says.
“Of all the times I fantasized about fucking you in your own bedroom, this isn’t what I pictured.”
“Did you picture yourself bleeding out on the carpet? Because that’s a fantasy I will help come true.” She smirks.
“I don’t remember you being so funny before.” I laugh.
“It wasn’t a joke,” she mutters, walking into her closet.
“Aren’t you even the tiniest bit curious about what happened in my fantasies?” I ask while lowering myself onto her bed.
“Nope.”
She walks back out with a suitcase, tossing it beside me. “Get off my bed.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you on it.”
“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to admit it.” I reach out, grab hold of her hand, and pull her down onto the mattressbefore rolling over. My body covers hers, trapping her beneath me. “This. This was part of my fantasy.” My lips trail down the side of her neck. “And this,” I say as my hand runs up under the shirt she’s still wearing. My shirt. “Your skin is still as smooth as I remember.”
“Get off me,” she huffs. “You said you wouldn’t touch me, Carlo.”
“I said I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want,” I correct her. Her face is flushed, her nipples hard under the flimsy fabric. She wants this. I know she does.
“I don’t want this.” She shoves against my chest.
“Okay, prove it.” I lift a little of my weight off her. “If my fingers reach nothing but the dryness of the Mojave Desert, then I’ll stop. But…” I trace a hand along the inside of her thigh. “…if I reach your pussy and it’s wetter than the Pacific Ocean, then I’m not stopping until you’re coming all over my hand,” I tell her. “We both need this, Antonia. No point denying something that feels so fucking good.”
Just as I thought, when my fingers slip under the seam of her panties, she’s drenched. Two fingers easily slide into her opening.
“Liar,” I grunt as I bite down on her neck.
“Please,” she moans. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what? Make you feel good?” I ask her, pumping in and out. Her hips start lifting, moving to the same rhythm as my fingers.
She digs her nails into my skin, breaking the surface. I don’t stop, though. I need to see her come undone under me. I need to remind her just how good we are together. My thumb presses against her clit, rubbing in small circles as I continue to fuck her with my hand.
A minute later, her pussy is clamping around my fingers, and her body seizes up as an orgasm washes over her.
“Fucking beautiful,” I whisper, slowing my movements as she rides out her pleasure.
