Ruined Secrets (Perfectly Imperfect #4)

I move to stand behind her, press my chest to her back and bend my head to whisper in her ear.

“On the bed,” I say and slide another finger inside her. “Slowly.”

Isabella lets go of my wrist and starts crawling toward the middle of the bed. I follow, hunched over her, keeping my fingers buried in her.

“Stop.” I wrap my left arm around her waist, ignoring the pain the strain inflicts on my burned skin. “I’m going to remove my fingers now,” I say next to her ear.

“Please, don’t.” She presses her legs together and moans.

“Don’t worry.” I place a kiss on her shoulder. “I’ll be only a second, and then I’ll make it better.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” I kiss her neck next. “Front? Or from behind?”

“Front.”

Isabella whimpers when I slowly slide out my fingers, then turns onto her back and hooks her legs around my hips. I just watch her for a few moments. Her hair is tangled, her mouth slightly open, and her chest rises as she pants.

“Please, Luca.”

I want to take her in one hard thrust, but I felt how tight she is. So, instead, I place the tip of my cock at her entrance and slide in just a bit.

Isabella growls in displeasure and digs her nails into my back, pulling me closer. My little wife—always so composed and calm—just growled at me. Our eyes lock, and I crush my mouth to her lips, thrusting all the way inside. She gasps but doesn’t close her eyes, watching me.

“You like the feel of my cock filling you up, don’t you, Isabella?”

“Yes.” She breathes out, then squeezes her legs around me.

I slide out, then drive into her again, hard. “How much?”

Isabella doesn’t reply, just moves her hands up my back and pulls the hair tie from the knot at the top of my head. My hair falls, framing my face, and she threads her fingers through it as her body arches up. I pull my cock out, press my fingers over her pussy, and start teasing her clit. Her hands in my hair grip the strands, pulling, and it takes a lot of control not to bury myself inside her again.

“I asked how much, Isabella?”

“So, so much.” She gulps air with a hiss. “I wish it could stay inside me all the time.”

An answering growl rumbles from my throat as I slide back inside her. When I bury myself to the hilt, a sigh of relief leaves her lips. My God, I can definitely get behind the idea of havingmy cock buried in this woman. Permanently. The bed squeaks under us as I pound into her, soaking up her every grunt and sigh.

The need to take her from behind is growing too strong to ignore. “Turn around,” I say and slide out.

Isabella turns and rises onto all fours, perching her ass. Holy Mother of God, I almost come from just seeing that perfection. I grab her around the waist and bite her right butt cheek. Then I slap that sweet ass twice in quick succession. A yelp escapes her, then another one when I bury my teeth in her other ass cheek. Moving my hands around her hips to her front, I find her clit and tease it as I thrust my cock inside. I feel her walls gripping my length. Moaning, she lowers her head to the pillow, raising her ass even higher, and I lose it completely. I begin to thrust faster into her sweet pussy, then smack her ass cheek again and watch as my handprint appears, marking her. Gripping her hips, I continue my punishing pace. A muffled scream leaves her when I slam into her and her inner walls grip my cock, the sensation causing my orgasm to hit me before I’m ready to be done with her. Still, I can't help but relish the feel of my seed pouring inside, branding her.

Isabella’s body is still shaking when I pull out and lie down next to her. With my hand around her waist, I bring her against me, pressing her back to my chest, then slide my hand across her front until I cup her pussy with my palm.

“Don’t even think about moving.” I whisper into her ear and keep my hand covering her pussy. “I want my cum in you the whole night.”

Slowly, I slide one finger inside and Isabella sucks in a breath.

“I don’t know how we’ve slept before,” I say, “but this is how we’ll sleep from now on. Is that clear?”

She nods and glides her palm down my forearm and lower until she covers my hand and presses it, pushing my finger deeper.

“If your hand is anywhere else when I wake up,” she says, “I’ll be very displeased, Luca.”

When I open my eyes next morning, Luca is sitting at the edge of the bed, unwrapping the bandage from his left arm.

“The doctor said you should go to the hospital to have your bandages changed,” I say.