Page 17 of A Love Most Brutal (Morelli Family #2)

Instead, I drop my face where my finger resides and start licking her there, long strokes up her center before swirling around her clit.

My jaw and cheeks are covered in a light stubble by now, and I’m aware of the scrape it must be against her smooth thighs, but there’s no stopping me now.

The taste of her makes me unbearably harder.

“Maxim,” she moans. I suck her clit hard, brushing my teeth against the sensitive nub and her hands thread through my hair.

“Like this?” I repeat, the refrain like a taunt.

“You’re good at that.”

I grunt and attack with new fervor, watching her face for signs of just what she likes until she’s writhing and gasping beneath my mouth. My cock aches, I could come just from rubbing it against the mattress while eating her like this, but I will not.

My hands travel up Marianna’s body, one grabbing a breast and squeezing, the other coasting down her stomach, around the curve of her ass.

When I feel her climbing toward the edge of her release, little halting gasps coming out of her mouth, I press two fingers into her and we both groan, like it gives me just as much relief as it does her in this moment.

I pump my fingers against the soft spot inside of her while I suck and her breathing stutters as she falls over the edge, clamping down hard on my fingers in a way that makes me groan again. I lick her long after her heavy breathing settles.

“Good,” I grunt, and rub soothing circles over her outer thigh. She lets out a laugh and lifts her head to look down at me.

“I didn’t do anything,” she says.

I take one last lick up her center, dipping my tongue into the space my fingers just vacated, before crawling up the bed until my face hovers just over hers.

She lifts her head toward me, imploring for a kiss, but if I kiss her now—her taste still on my tongue—I might perish.

I track the movement of her tongue darting out to lick her lips, and it breaks my resolve.

My mouth presses firmly against hers, my tongue pressing into her mouth with zero finesse.

It’s been a long time since I kissed someone new, since I’ve had to learn what their mouth tastes like.

The taste of her, of all of her , is better than anything I could have imagined.

She kisses me back with the same fervor and wraps her legs around my waist, trying to pull me closer.

“You took mine off, now yours,” she says between kiss after searing kiss. “The boxer briefs have to go.”

“What do you say?” My mouth presses long and hard against hers and she pulls back with a frustrated groan.

“ Please ,” she mocks. I reach between us to pinch her nipple, not lightly. “Fuck, okay, please, Maxim, take off the stupid underwear so you can fuck your wife. Please.”

I pinch her again, but crawl off of her to remove the offending garment. As soon as I do, though, Marianna looks startled at the sight of me.

I think this is a compliment.

She blinks, and I let her stare at my groin. I wish I could read her mind, but she rolls onto her hands and knees and approaches me with a single intent in her eyes, I shake my head.

“Don’t,” I warn. Her eyes leave my cock to meet my gaze in confusion. “Not tonight.”

She frowns, her swollen lower lip pressing out further.

“And why not?” She reaches out and lightly grazes the soft skin of my cock. It twitches beneath her touch and I try not to hiss.

My tentative composure is back in place, but fucking barely .

She wraps her hand around me and slides her grip up the length. I suck in a breath through my teeth and a pleased smile lifts her lips.

“ Brat ,” I mutter and crowd her until she falls back onto the bed again. As soon as I’m lying next to her, Marianna pushes my shoulder and crawls on top of me, her legs gripping my hips.

“I think a wife should be able to blow her husband,” she muses. She looks about ready to shimmy down my body to do just that when I grip her hair at the nape of her neck to keep her still. “I won’t bite.”

“And I won’t last ,” I say, tightening my hold on her hair just enough to sting.

She blinks at this moment of complete honesty.

All pretense of control would be shot if she took me into her mouth now.

I fear I’ve revealed too much in this confession, but she leans forward to kiss me again.

Marianna deepens the kiss until we’re both worked back up to this never-ending frenzy of groping hands and probing tongues.

I haven’t felt like this, not as a teenager, not ever.

She’s grinding her wet cunt against my length, completely indecent, the stuff I’ve created in three dozen dreams over the last year but much, much better.

“Hold on—” I try but she grips my chin in a tight hold.

“If you’re going to keep stopping me you’re going to need to hold the headboard,” she says.

I can’t help it, the image startles a laugh out of me while also making me impossibly harder. Marianna fucking Morelli .

“I have a condom,” I tell her. She looks at me like I’ve just said something strange.

“I thought you were trying to put a baby in me,” she says. The image makes my brain empty of all intelligible thoughts. She will kill me, I think. I’m amazed she hasn’t already, just from this. “Too soon?”

“No, I—carry on.”

She grins when I close my mouth and don’t try to stop her again. I keep my hands firmly on her hips while she lines my cock up beneath her entrance. We both hold our breath in the moment before she sinks onto it.

I moan.

Long and indecent, I moan into the room as she wiggles her hips, adjusting to the size of me as she slides down to fully seated.

“Good Lord,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her nails into my chest.

She is so damn tight around me, and there is no steadying my breathing, though I do try, because if I don’t, I will burst in the next fifteen seconds.

My grip is bruising on her hips, and when she stays still for a moment longer, I thrust without intending to from beneath.

She lets out a high little moan at the pressure.

“Christ, make that sound again.”

Before she can even try though, I lift her on my cock, thrusting into her deep, and every move makes a high, breathy sound come from her mouth.

“Yes, just like that. You’re perfect,” I tell her. She falls forward, her bare chest pressed against mine, and after a moment starts to bounce her hips against me, a delicious friction between us.

“Marianna,” I breathe against her neck. She has nothing sharp to say, no rebuttals, just lets me meet her hips thrust for thrust and hold her lower back down to keep her just where I want her.

I’m moaning into her ear, chanting unintelligible praises in English and Russian about her body, her voice, my perfect, perfect wife.

I’m almost there, dangerously close, so I flip her over so that I can loom above her again with my legs between hers. My thrusts grow harder, rutting into her as my gaze is fixed on the place where I am joining with her.

Her hand slides over my cheek and into my hair, where she pulls my head until our eyes lock.

“You look at me,” she demands. “Look at your wife while you fuck her.” Her breath hitches. “You are stuck with me.”

In this battle of wills of our first time together, I acquiesce, and keep my eyes firmly on hers.

She doesn’t look away until I reach between us and rub circles over her clit.

She can’t help but close her eyes and arch her back closer to me, and then, as if it surprises her, they snap open again as she comes with a startled sound, tightening again on me and sending me barreling after her.

I have no coherent thought, no ability to make sense of what’s just happened as I spill long into her.

My wife, my wife, my wife.

My hips slow to a stop, but I stay atop of her for minutes while our breathing levels to normal.

“Like that?” I ask of her game of pretend, though there was nothing fabricated about my performance. She furrows her brows at me, having forgotten.

You pretend you want me, I pretend to be the wife you wanted.

“Yes,” she says, finally. “Like that.”