Page 106 of The Breaker
My breath stopped the instant I saw her, a fucking wet dream just waiting for me. Rocco must have texted her when he left and given her some indication that he’d gotten through to me.
I looked her over, pitching a tent in my sweats, hard as ever.
Fuck, can’t believe this is my wife.
She continued to stare me down, confident and mysterious, her hand moving over her belly.
My shirt was already off, so I dropped my bottoms in one swoop, my dick at full salute for the queen in my bed.
Her eyes lowered to look at me, and the arousal and excitement and joy in her eyes were too potent to hide. She even bit her bottom lip absentmindedly, her enthusiasm raw and pure. “Get over here.”
I crawled up the bed then grabbed her by the ankles and gently tugged her down so her head moved to the pillow. She looked so damn fine that I didn’t want to take any of it off, but now that this door had been opened, I wanted to sprint through it.
I moved down and kissed her belly, the belly that was small compared to what it would become in a few more months, but it felt like the sun to me. The center of my universe, the soul to my body. I kissed her belly before I rested my forehead against it, feeling the life we’d made together out of the love we shared.
Biggest turn-on of my life.
I slipped off her little white thong and left the stockings in place before I scooped my arms around her thighs as I moved my mouth to her entrance, which was perfectly shaved like she’d hoped today would be the day.
“No.”
I moved up again, never having heard that word from her in my life.
“I want you.” She started to pull on me, too anxious for foreplay, wanting the deed to be signed and delivered.
I did as she asked and moved up her body, bending her into place, her pregnant belly between us. My head dipped, and I kissed her, kissed in a way I hadn’t in the last two weeks, her breath growing rapid as our tongues occasionally met in a seductive swipe.
She didn’t let me guide myself inside her. She grabbed my length and put me in place, like she meant business.
I couldn’t help it. I smiled against her mouth before I pressed inside, recognizing the pool of slickness that had been filling for a while. This was the horniest she’d ever been, for sure. I didn’t have to push through her tightness like I normally did. I was immediately drenched in her desire so I could sink effortlessly.
She gasped against me like this was our first time rather than our first time as husband and wife.
I was immediately engulfed in her flames, brought into the fiery heat that had been burning beneath the surface. I felt myself set ablaze as I rocked into her, my core just inches away from her distended stomach, watching her take my dick for barely a minute before she came all over me, like she hadn’t touched herself while I’d refused her advances.
She’d waited for me.
I felt her come around me and watched the pleasure and relief enter her gaze like she’d been waiting day and night for this. Like an addict who’d finally gotten that first hit after being clean for far too long.
Her eyes came back to me, glistening in satisfaction, but still heated like that wasn’t even close to being enough.
I kissed her again, my mouth dancing with hers in a slow embrace, my arms still pinned behind her knees to keep her in place. Then I started to move again, feeling her fingers slide into my hair and then down my arms.
“I love you,” she said into my mouth during our embrace, a whisper just for me to hear.
I kissed her again before I pulled away to look into her eyes, seeing my whole world in a single person. The person I’d spotted through a window one sunny afternoon in Taormina ... and just knew. Knew she was my person, my future wife, the woman who would give me a child and somehow make me ready to be a father when I didn’t even know if I wanted to be one. She brought me back to who I was, who I’d always been, back to where I belonged ... with her, in this special place. “I love you too.”
Epilogue
Constantine
I stood in the kitchen, gripped the handle of the pot, and gave it a hard shake, mixing the pasta noodles with the tomatoes, basil, onion, and garlic. “All right, Julia. Hit me.”
Julia carried the bowl of freshly grated buffalo mozzarella and stepped up onto the wooden step I’d made for her since she was only five years old and could barely reach the counter. She kept the bowl steady as she stepped up and placed it on the counter.
I very rarely helped her with things, wanting her to think for herself from a young age. She could make as many mistakes as she wanted—the more, the better—because she learned from all of them. And learned she didn’t need anyone. “All right. Add the cheese.”
She reached her hand inside.
