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Soft hands picked mine up and held them against her beloved face. I would know its shape anywhere, even with my eyes closed.

“Look at me, please,” Bianca whispered.

I opened my eyes and she repeated, “You are not your father.”

All restraint shattered.

Our mouths crashed against each other. My tongue dove between her lips and it was as if I depended on her for oxygen. As if she was my salvation from the unraveling storm I had unleashed with my confession. Teeth scraped, tongues tangled, and I explored deeper and deeper. She tasted of mint and carnal promise. I backed her against the breakfast table and lifted her on top of it.

Her robe fell open and her nipples’ outline against a thin tank top drove me wild. I latched on to her neck. Unlike in the shower, where seeing her naked didn’t spark an ounce of lust, this time, feeling her nipple against my palm drew a groan as if I were in pain.

“I can’t be gentle,” I snarled.

“Don’t be,” she panted. “Show me who you are.”

I ripped her tank top, exposing her breasts, and I bowed down to take a mouthful while I squeezed the other one. But the lure of her cunt drew me lower. I grazed my teeth over her belly, straight to the scent I couldn’t resist. I leaned back and looked at her pussy. Her pink pretty pussy that was all mine.

All fucking mine.

I dove straight in. She cried out, her knees caging my head, her hands in my hair yanking me closer while she pushed her hips up to meet me. So fucking responsive.

I ate and feasted, ravaging her tender flesh, licking, nipping. I tongued her clit. Lapped around it and sucked. She moaned and sobbed, and I continued drawing her cries. Felt her swell on mytongue. I could never get enough. I inserted a finger, and then two. Fuck, she was too tight. I would hurt her if I simply shoved inside her, which was what my body was gearing to do. My hand went to my shorts. I palmed my erection.

Throughout this delirium of need and want, I paused. I stared at my fingers inside her pussy and tried to add a third. She squirmed and her breathing hitched. I withdrew them all. She was too small. I was going to hurt her, especially with how rabid I was feeling.

“Sandro?” She propped up on her elbows, brows furrowing.

My eyes scorched over her. All laid out and open. It was so easy. Make her mine. But this place. It was wrong. I exhaled a breath and scooped her from the breakfast table and left the kitchen.

“What happened?” she asked as I went up the stairs.

“I’m not about to fuck you on that table.”

“Why?”

“I can’t be gentle.”

“Well, I was enjoying feral Sandro.”

I groaned against the top of her head, “Don’t, baby. It’s not gonna happen, all right? Not like this.”

I entered our bedroom, still carrying her, and gently laid her on the bed. She sat up and swung her legs around to sit back on her heels, eyeing me as I stared at her. She was specifically eyeing my erection, which was hidden beneath my T-shirt.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped.

“Sandro, I’m not a virgin. You’re not going to hurt me,” she mumbled.

“You sure about that?” I lifted my shirt and exposed my cock. She gaped, eyes wide, hand slapping over her mouth. I wanted to laugh, but I was also worried.

“I’m going to rip you apart.” I dropped my shirt.

“Uhm…maybe go slow?” she squeaked and then had to bite her lower lip.

I made a guttural sound before shooting her a pained smile and climbing into bed beside her. “Come here. Ain’t happening.”

“Sandro.”

“Quiet, baby.” I gathered her in my arms.