Page 39 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Isabella

S ensations draw me from my slumber… sensations between my legs.

Something warm brushes the inside of my thigh, a feather-light breath ghosting over my skin, followed by lips trailing kisses up, up, up. A sharp ache for more builds quickly.

God, it’s been so long since anybody touched me there.

The memory of being ravished, of being devoured, surges forward and my body reacts. Slickness gathers between my thighs. I’m getting wetter with every kiss against my skin, every breath he drags over me.

Dios.

Am I really that starved for affection that the slightest touch makes me melt like this?

Or has Sebastian been under those sheets for a while?

His hand slides around to my ass. The other moves between my legs. He cups me there, and I gasp.

I shift under his touch, but I can’t seem to wake fully. My head feels foggy, like I’m underwater, every thought slow and muffled. Or like I’ve had too much wine and not enough air.

Oh, I did… though it was champagne, not wine .

God, I don’t remember anything after walking down the aisle.

And I don’t want to. Not now anyway. Not with whatever Sebastian is doing to me.

A low groan escapes me as he grips my hips firmly and flicks his tongue over my clit.

Oh, that’s so good.

I lift my hips, pressing closer to his mouth. A chuckle leaves him, fanning across my skin, making me shiver.

“So eager for me to eat that pretty little pussy,” he murmurs, repeating that delicious flick over my clit.

His voice is muffled under the sheets and between my thighs, but the sound sends another surge of heat through me.

Sebastian sounds… raw. I’ve never heard him like this. Rough. Hungry.

Is this what he sounds like when he’s aroused?

My hands roam beneath the sheets, trailing down over skin that’s feverish to the touch. I find his head, fingers sliding into his hair, nails scraping across his scalp. He groans, his hold on me tightening.

When his tongue dives between my folds, licking me like he already knows every inch, my fingers dig into his shoulders and I pull him closer.

A moan rips from my throat. “ Madonna mia ,” I whisper, half-gone already.

His tongue flicks, slow and firm, right where I’m aching. My hips jolt.

“God, I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” he murmurs against me. The vibration makes me whimper.

“You’re so sweet,” he says, dragging his tongue along me with maddening patience. “And so fucking mine. Never forget that.”

As if to mark his claim, he sucks my clit into his mouth, hard.

My toes curl.

I tremble, fists clenching the sheets.

His voice sounds like memory. Like heat soaked in sunlight. Like home .

Home?

Even in my hazy state, my mind rebels at the thought of Sebastian Moretti as home. Only one man ever felt like that. And part of me is desperate to hold on to him.

I squeeze my eyes shut and imagine.

Imagine it’s no longer Sebastian between my legs… but the man I gave my heart to when I was young.

And just like that, something in me softens.

If it’s Luca, I can let go.

With him, I’m safe. I always was. He knew every part of me, and I trusted him with all of it.

I still do.

It’s okay to pretend, isn’t it?

“You want more, don’t you?” he breathes. “You love it when I make you come with my mouth.”

A soft cry tears from my throat. My legs tighten around his shoulders.

“You’re close. I can feel it.” His tongue slides deeper, relentless and skilled. “Let go for me.”

And I do.

My body breaks open, spasming with release as he keeps his mouth on me, coaxing every last tremble from my bones.

I’m floating, gasping, dizzy with the ache of it.

But the ache doesn’t fade.

If anything, it sharpens. His mouth wrung the first climax from me, but it wasn’t enough. Not for what I really crave.

I want more.

More heat. More weight. More of him, everywhere, all at once.

Then he’s above me. As if he heard me.

Heavy. Solid. Real.

I keep my eyes shut, refusing to let go of my fantasy.

If I open them, it might vanish.

He might vanish.

I want this to be Luca .

“Tell me you want me,” my fantasy Luca rasps, brushing his lips over my cheek, my jaw. “Tell me you want me to claim what’s mine, wife.”

My breath catches. The hunger that’s been burning through me falters for a moment, knocked off course.

Wife.

It’s my wedding night… with Sebastian.

My husband.

The man who wants to consummate our union.

This is my life now. I’m supposed to embrace it. But the thought hits me like a cold shower.

But I want to love this. I want to treasure this once-in-a-lifetime night.

Maybe pretending is the only way I can truly enjoy it. Because that ache won’t quiet. Not unless I give in completely.

All I can feel is him. And I want more.

So I nod.

“Good,” he breathes. “Because I’m going to take you slow. Until you know who you belong to.”

He slides into me, inch by inch, filling me completely.

His heat engulfs me. I revel in it. His scent is so familiar, his weight perfect… just like I remember. As if my mind is painting the memory so vividly it feels… true.

A sob catches in my throat. My heart lets out a breath it’s been holding for years.

“That’s it,” he groans. “Take all of me. You were made for this. For me. Only me.”

My eyes stay shut. I don’t want my fantasy to vanish.

His thrusts are deep, dragging sounds from my chest I didn’t know I still had in me. I cling to him, dizzy, desperate to hold on to the illusion.

“I’ve thought about this every night,” he grits. “How you sound. How you feel.”

My nails dig into his back. My hips rise to meet his .

His tempo never falters. It’s slow, lingering, intentional. Like he’s not just taking my body but showing me it belongs to him.

“Mine,” he echoes, answering my thoughts.

He catches my wrists and pins them above my head, holding me there with one hand. The other grips my hip and pulls me deeper onto him.

This isn’t just desire. It’s a claiming, a reminder of who’s in control.

I bury my face against his neck, inhaling him like oxygen.

His skin is hot, damp with effort, and he smells like sun and salt and something purely him.

God, my mind remembers it all… and fills in the rest.

He releases my wrists and finds my hand instead, threading our fingers together, pressing them over my heart.

He thrusts again, deep and slow, his body perfectly in tune with mine. Each movement drives me higher, the tension inside me winding tighter with every stroke.

My hips rise to meet his, greedy for more, aching for that final snap.

I cling to him, barely breathing, every part of me straining toward the edge.

The tension breaks like fire licking through my veins. It’s sharp and all-consuming.

Pleasure crashes through me, wave after wave. My back arches, my body clenching tight around him as I cry out into his neck.

He groans, deep and raw, and drives into me hard and unrelenting one more time.

Then he follows, hips stuttering, his whole body tensing as he spills inside me.

We move through it together, locked in place, every muscle drawn tight until there’s nothing left but trembling limbs and shared breath.

The pleasure shatters something inside me. The name is there before I can stop it, rising from somewhere deeper than thought.

“Luca…”

I drift under again, his breath tangled in mine. My limbs are heavy. My heart even heavier.

But I keep my eyes shut.

Because if I look…

I might wake up.