Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“Someday, tesoro, our baby will be right here. I’ve thought of that so many times.”
He slid lower on the bed while he framed her flat stomach with both hands, brushing kisses over her skin until she thought she might burst into flames. She hadn’t known she was sensitive there. His strong white teeth suddenly nipped her, stinging, and her hips bucked as her sex clenched hard, a wild spasm of need, and her clit throbbed and pulsed, so inflamed she thought she would spontaneously combust.
“Taviano.” She hissed his name.
His arm locked over her thighs, holding her to the bed while he licked at the sting. “I like to put my mark on you. It pleases me to look at it. Or just to know it’s there beneath your clothing.”
“I’m on fire.” It came out a wail. She hadn’t intended to sound so … desperate, but she was. Desperate was the only adjective she could think of. He was making her desperate for him. For something. For anything. But he had to do it soon or she might not survive.
“Are you? For me? Are you on fire for me, Nicoletta?” His palm slid over her belly as he moved lower on the bed, then right off of it. She felt his movements more than saw them because she’d slung her arm over her eyes. Her hips were uncontrollable now, sliding shamelessly over the duvet, bucking, desperate for relief only Taviano could give her.
“Yes.” Her breath hissed out in a long, painful admission.
His long, very strong fingers slid through her dark curls and found the betraying dampness she couldn’t hide. He stroked caresses there and then his hands were on her thighs, pulling them apart. She felt the air, now cool on her hot entrance. She wanted to protest the way her thighs were spread so far apart, the way she was so open to him, but then his tongue ran up the inside of her right thigh and a dark moan slipped out instead of a protest.
The sensation of that velvet tongue lapping at her thigh, coupled with the rasp of the bristles on his jaw, built that terrible coiling pressure to an almost brutal need. She couldn’t have protested if she wanted to. She needed more. She needed Taviano to do exactly as he’d promised, no matter the cost. She wanted to be devoured and eaten like candy. She wanted him to send her tumbling over the edge into a freefall. She could only hope that he would catch her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Taviano listened to the singsong sob hitching in Nicoletta’s ragged breathing. It was difficult to keep himself under control enough to pay attention to minute details, but he reminded himself it was necessary. She tasted like heaven. He knew she would. His woman. Dio, but she was perfect for him in every way.
He took his time, savoring the liquid honey on her thighs, easing closer and closer to the heat emanating from her entrance. He put his mark there, several of them, on either side, both left and right. Strawberries with his teeth marks. Her gasps and groans, the addicting cream he captured in his mouth when he gave her those little reminders of who she was married to, made him feel a bit like a caveman.
Nicoletta was his woman. His. He had felt alone for so long. No one knew him. No one had ever accepted the real him. He knew that wasn’t fair to his siblings, because chances were they would have unconditional love for him, but he also knew the knowledge of what had happened to him as a young boy would change their relationship subtly. Nicoletta just loved him.
Almost from the moment she’d opened her eyes on that plane ride back to Chicago from New York, he had seen the growing adoration in her eyes. She’d tried to hide it. She’d tried to escape him. He’d done everything in his power to encourage it. He’d found he needed her.
A year into her being with the family, he had gotten to the point that the nights he shared with other women after being in the shadows weren’t nearly as satisfying as they had once been. He didn’t like to be touched. Usually, he fucked a woman hard, was generous with jewelry or his photographs with the media so she could further her career, and then he got away quickly. Now he craved Nicoletta’s touch. He wanted her hands—and her mouth—on him. He wanted his cock buried in her body. And this—he wanted his mouth on her, tasting what belonged to him.
He was careful at first, lapping at her, suckling, watching her reaction before using his teeth to scrape along her clit and then suckle more. He used his tongue ruthlessly like a cock, stroking and caressing, fucking her, and then loving her. She writhed wildly, so he locked her down with his arm, his mouth doing exactly what he’d promised: devouring her.