Page 63 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Sixty-Two

Luca

O ur mouths melt together, our tongues dancing. Nothing so tame as a waltz or a foxtrot. It’s more explosive than that, like a tango under a canopy of fireworks.

My fingers dig into Isa’s nightshirt at her waist as she deepens the kiss.

The need to touch her naked skin is becoming unbearable. I want this fucking tease of fabric gone. I want her bare beneath me. To taste her. To lick every inch of her until she’s trembling.

My cock throbs beneath her, begging to be freed and thrust deep into her.

She drags her mouth down one side of my throat, then up the other, before taking my bottom lip between her teeth and sucking until I groan.

I bite her back, not gently, then crush my mouth to hers again. I devour her like I’ve been starving. Because I have.

Five years of hunger. Five years of need and nothing but camera footage of her. Now she’s here.

My woman.

And I will have my fill. Even if it takes a lifetime to make up for lost time.

I sit up abruptly, supporting her through the sudden shift by bracing one hand at the small of her back, the other cradling her head, never breaking our kiss. Her legs tighten around me as I pull her upright, her body pressed flush against mine, soft curves meeting hard lines.

I guide her head back, not roughly but with purpose. My lips find her throat, and I devour the skin there, licking, sucking, tasting the spot that always made her squirm.

She clutches me tighter, her hands roaming over my bare chest, gliding over every muscle, then curling around my shoulders and lacing behind my neck like she needs the contact to breathe.

I grab the hem of her nightshirt, my fingers curling into the thin cotton like it’s the enemy.

“Need you naked,” I growl against her lips. “I need to see you. All of you, farfalla . Now.”

I tear my mouth from hers for half a second to yank the offending fabric over her head. And even that’s too long. I should have ripped it instead.

She hums her approval and crushes her lips back to mine, grinding her pussy against my cock through the thin scrap of her panties and the soft cotton of my boxers. She’s already drenched.

Her scent fills the air, thick with arousal and something sharper. Desperation… surrender. It wraps around me, seeps into my lungs, marks me from the inside out. Every time her tongue tangles with mine, it gets stronger, more potent, like she’s trying to brand me with her need.

I breathe it in like it belongs to me. Because it does.

She does.

I want to live in it, drown in it, lose myself until nothing exists but her need for me.

My body is on fire. Every trail her fingers leave behind sparks hotter than the last. Her skin against mine is heat and heaven, and it’s driving me mad .

Her nipples are hard as glass, dragging across my chest with every shift.

I let my hands roam, cupping her breasts, kneading them as our mouths stay fused.

I roll her peaks between my fingers, scraping my thumbs across them, and her body arches in response.

But it’s not enough. I need them in my mouth.

I tear my lips from hers to drink her in.

“Fuck me, you’re stunning.”

“Yes,” she breathes, eyes locked on mine, her voice wrecked with need. “Please… fuck me.”

The desperate look on her face nearly undoes me.

“Oh, I will,” I promise, low and dark. “I will fuck you so good you’ll never doubt anything again. Not who you belong to. Not how much you mean to me, or how much I fucking worship you. All night. All day. Until forever never ends.”

I kiss her harder, biting her bottom lip and tugging it between my teeth before letting it go.

“But first,” I murmur, “I need a taste of these.”

I pinch her nipples, hard and slow, and she gasps, her head falling back as her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders and spills onto the sheets.

“Luca… ahhh.”

She grinds against me, chasing friction, her hips rolling with purpose. And it lights something inside me. A new kind of hunger. She likes that. The edge. The sting.

Interesting.

My little butterfly might have grown wings made for fire. We’d never played rough before. Our time was always too short, too stolen. I only worshiped her. Sweet, innocent… young love.

Not anymore.

I lower my mouth to her chest, latching onto one perfect breast. I suck her deep, swirling my tongue around her nipple before grazing it with my teeth.

Her moan rips through me like a lightning strike.

She arches into my mouth, thighs tightening around my waist as if she needs me closer, deeper, more .

And I give it to her.

I feast on her greedily. Tongue flattening, I lick broad strokes over her soft flesh before moving to the other side.

I drag my mouth across her sternum, savoring the taste of her skin, then take her other nipple between my lips.

I worship it the same way, sucking, rolling it with my tongue, nipping hard enough to draw another groan from her.

She tastes like everything I lost. Everything I burned for. And I’m never letting her go again.

“No one will ever touch you like this,” I say, low, almost guttural. “No one else will ever hear how you whimper for more. Or feel how your hips buck when I scrape my teeth across this perfect body.”

Her lips part, her breath catching as our eyes lock.

“Only me.”

I drag my tongue slowly across her nipple again, watching her writhe.

Her fingers tighten in my hair, her voice breathless but sure.

“Only ever you,” she whispers.

It’s a vow, given so freely, so willingly, it flips a switch inside me.

There’s no restraint left.

My need spikes. I need her like blood, like breath, like absolution.

I groan against her skin, the sound raw and desperate even to my own ears. My hands slide to her waist. I wrap my arm around her back and roll us.

Now she’s beneath me, her hair fanned out over the pillows like a dark halo, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from my kisses.

The sight alone is enough to ruin me.

I reach down between us and grab the last thing in my way. But I don’t slide off her panties. I tear them… like I should have done with her nightshirt. She’ll never wear one again in our bed. Not when I need to feel every inch of her, skin to skin.

The thin lace splits easily in my hands, and her gasp only drives me harder. I throw the scraps aside and press my body to hers as she pushes at my waistband, her hands urgent.

“Off,” she pleads, voice thick with desperation. “Luca, please… ”

I rise just enough for her to push the fabric past my hips. I kick them off the rest of the way and lower myself again, molding myself to her body. Her heat against me is unbearable. Perfect.

I press my forehead to hers, breathing hard.

“Need you,” she pleads, breath hot against my lips. “Now.”

That’s it. My control snaps.

I grip her thigh and spread her open. Then I thrust into her in one deep, claiming stroke.

We both cry out.

Her back bows. And I sink deeper, until I’m all the way home.

“Mine,” I growl. “Mine.”

My mouth finds hers once more. Not soft but fierce, intense.

This kiss is possession.

Worship. Devotion. Desperation.

This is the second time I’m taking her since I got her back, but this time… she knows exactly who she’s begging for.

Before, she was confused, thinking I was someone else.

Now, she’s begging for me .

For this.

For us.

“ Mio falco ,” Isa moans. “More.”

If I thought the last thread of my restraint had already snapped, I was wrong.

This breaks me. This name.

She’s always used it sparingly, only when her guard was down. And hearing it now, for the first time in over five years, melts me. Not soft. Not sweet. It strips me bare.

It binds me to her in a way nothing else ever has, fuses me to her like a brand.

I give her everything.

And she gives it right back, making me feel… everything.

She is my world, my reason for existing.

And as her body trembles beneath me with every thrust, her core clenching around me with every kiss, I devote and surrender every groan that leaves my lips to her.

She owns me.

I’m all hers.

Always have been.