Page 120 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
"Not done yet." I smirked, anger still simmering, and shifted my hands to her breasts, cupping them roughly. Her nipples hardened instantly under my thumbs, pebbled and sensitive. I rolled one between my fingers, pinching just hard enough to make her hiss, then leaned down to take the other in my mouth. I sucked hard, teeth grazing the tip, tongue flicking relentlessly. She arched into me, a moan escaping despite herself, hands fisting in my hair.
"Fuck you, Ezio," she gasped, but her body pressed closer, nipples swelling under my assault. I switched sides, biting down lightly on the other peak, soothing it with my tongue, then pinching both at once, twisting just to hear her cry out. My free hand roamed her body,tracing her curves, dipping between her thighs to tease her entrance again without entering, keeping her on edge. She was soaked anew, hips grinding against my hand, seeking more.
"You're such an asshole," she cursed, voice breathy, but her eyes glazed with need. "Why won't you just—god, I hate how you make me feel this way."
I chuckled darkly, nipping at her breast, feeling her shiver. "Beg for it, Olivia. Tell me you want my cock inside you. Admit you've been craving this for five years." My fingers teased her clit lightly, circling without pressure, driving her wild. She squirmed, breaths hitching, body on fire under my touch. I could feel her resistance cracking, desire building until it consumed her.
"Damn you," she muttered, then louder, "fine! Please, Ezio. Fuck me. I need it." Her voice broke on the words, eyes pleading now, all fight gone, replaced by raw hunger.
I'd been holding back too long, my dick straining painfully, pre-cum leaking through my pants. The second her plea left her lips, I lost it. I spun her around, shoving her against the mirror, yanking my zipper down and freeing my cock. It sprang out, rock-hard and throbbing, veins pulsing with need. Without warning, I slammed into her from behind, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. She cried out, walls clenching around me like a glove, so tight and wet it nearly undid me right there.
"Fuck, you're still so tight," I growled, pulling back and thrusting in again, hard and deep, setting a punishing rhythm. My hand came down on her ass, a sharp slap that echoed, leaving a red mark. "Look at yourself in the mirror, Olivia. See what a slut you are for me." I spanked her again, harder, as I pounded into her, balls slapping against her skin with each drive. "Five years, and you're still my little whore, begging for my cock like you can't get enough."
She moaned, eyes meeting mine in the reflection, face flushed, lips parted in ecstasy. "Shut up... Oh god, harder!" But her body pushed back, meeting my thrusts, ass jiggling with each smack. I grabbed her hips, angling deeper, hitting that spot that made her scream. Another slap to her ass, then another, the sting mixing with pleasure, her skinblooming red under my palm. "That's right, take it like the dirty girl you are. You love being fucked like this, don't you? My cum-hungry slut."
The mirror fogged with our breath, her tits bouncing with every powerful thrust, nipples scraping against the cold glass. I reached around, pinching one hard, rolling it as I drove in relentlessly, feeling her tighten around me, building toward the edge. "Look at your face. Eyes glazed, mouth open, dripping for me. You're mine, Olivia. Always have been."
She shattered again, a high-pitched cry ripping from her, pussy spasming wildly around my cock, milking me as her orgasm crashed. The sight, the feel—it pushed me over. I groaned, slamming in one last time, spilling deep inside her, hot ropes filling her up as waves of pleasure tore through me.
I collapsed against her shoulder, panting hard, the world spinning.
"Fuck you."
"Already did."
She rolled her eyes, said nothing more. We stayed like that for a long time. Until our breaths evened out.
I pulled out, her legs sliding down from my waist, toes touching the floor, but she wobbled. I steadied her waist, and she didn't shove me off, just hung her head, staring at the puddle on the ground and the white fluid leaking from her.
"Juliet," she finally spoke, voice soft, "is she my daughter?"
The question stabbed like a knife.
"Yeah," I said.
She nodded, gaze fixed on some spot on the floor, silent for ages. Then, "Thanks. You took good care of her."
I stared at her, feeling like a dull blade hacked at my chest.
"She's healthy, cheerful. That's enough."
"Enough?" My voice dropped, trembling a bit, "Six years, she's never seen her mom, never had a mother's love—you call that enough?"
Her lips twitched, no words.
"Yeah, she's healthy, cheerful, but she misses you!" I said, "And you? You ditched her for five years, and now you want to—"
"I know," she cut in, "I know I failed."
The words landed clean, no excuses, no tears, just there.
I stared, lost for words.
"You've got plans already," she went on, "godmother, new mom, I won't butt in. Class over, I'm gone, like nothing happened."
"Bianca's out. She won't be Juliet's mom."
She paused, didn't pry, kept going. "Whoever it is, you've got your setup. Juliet won't lack a mom. Me showing up just complicates shit."
