“Do you take the pill?” I asked. It wasn’t the most romantic thing to say in a situation like this, but before today, I couldn’t bring myself to ask my teenage wife that question.
A quick nod.
I climbed on top of her and guided my cock to her opening, but she shrank back. I wanted to roar in frustration. “Giulia,” I said imploringly.
“Can you hold me?”
My heart skipped a fucking beat. I nodded and lowered myself to my elbows then wedged one arm under my wife’s shoulder blades and hugged her to my chest. “Like this?” I murmured.
Her face was inches from mine, and she looked up at me, seeking my help, my protection, my closeness. I kissed the corner of her mouth then her lower and upper lip as I shifted my hips so my tip nudged her entrance. She held her breath. I stroked her bangs from her sweaty forehead.
“Breathe out.”
She did, and I pushed into her about an inch.
Her face flashed with discomfort, and she gripped my bicep.
“If it’s too much, you tell me, and we’ll figure something out,” I heard myself say, and I wanted to kick myself, but she gave me a grateful small smile, and I could feel her walls loosen very slightly. Slowly, I slid deeper into her, even when she squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled. She got very tight, and I knew this part would hurt the most. Kissing her temple, I thrust forward and slid all the way in. She flinched under me and gasped, her breathing ragged.
I shuddered out a breath, trying to stay still, and pretty sure her walls were going to milk my cock any second now. Fuck, she was tight. “Giulia? How are you?”
She looked at me. “Okay,” she said shakily. “It’s strange… feeling you inside of me. Really full.”
I smiled at her analysis.
“I’m talking nonsense, aren’t I?”
I shook my head and stroked her cheek then began to move, small shallow thrusts which grew gradually harder. She tensed every time, but she didn’t cry, didn’t whimper or sob, and I was grateful for that. It didn’t take long for me to reach my tipping point, and I didn’t bother holding back, knowing she’d be glad when it was over.
My body tightened, my balls expanding, and then I shot my cum into her. She sucked in her breath, and I stilled above her. Then I pressed my forehead into the pillow beside her head. She was very still under me, and I listened for a sob, crying, and again relief filled me when I heard neither. I pulled out very slowly and rolled off her but stayed close. She turned on her side, facing me.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I searched her flushed face. “What for?” It couldn’t be for giving her an orgasm because I definitely hadn’t, but I would soon. Many of them.
“For being patient and careful.”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Gaia had enjoyed playing the guilt card, had cried often to make me feel bad even when I’d tried to do everything to be decent.
“Women talk. Some men don’t because it gives them a feeling of dominance, others because they enjoy hurting, and some just want to make sure the blood stain is big so they can impress…”
Surprise filled me at her words. She sounded less like a girl then. “I don’t need to show my dominance by hurting you during sex. I’m Underboss, I rule over people on a daily basis. And while I enjoy hurting when it’s called for, I don’t enjoy hurting women or children. As for the last reason, maybe some men think a big blood stain makes the audience believe they have a huge dick, when in truth it only shows that they have no clue how to work that dick.”
Giulia laughed. Then her smile became teasing. “Do you?”
A low laugh rumbled in my chest. “Know how to work my dick?”
She blushed but nodded.
“I think I do. I know today wasn’t pleasurable for you, but soon it will be.”
She tilted her head in consideration. “Okay.”
I glanced down the length of me. My cock was smeared with blood. I sat up then held out my hand to Giulia. “Can you sit up for a moment?”
With a small frown, she did. “Why?” Then her eyes widened and her gaze darted down her body. “Oh.”
“Just wait a couple of seconds.”
Her nose wrinkled. “That’s kind of disgusting.”
“I know. But it’s tradition.” I brushed her hair from her face again, and Giulia regarded me curiously. Her eyes were a startling blue like a clear summer sky and her nose had the slightest upward tip, which gave her a coy look.
“Do you find me pretty?” she asked, drawing in that plump lower lip between her teeth.
“Yes, I do.” My thumb stroked along the back of her hand—which I hadn’t even realized I was still holding.
“Oh,” she said. “I wasn’t sure. You didn’t act as if you cared much.”
It was a good thing that I’d perfected my poker face over the years and a necessary evil in my line of work. “I did and do find you very attractive.”
“Hmm. Usually I’m good at telling those things. Most men are really obvious about their interest. They get that intense look as if they want to devour you.”
Something angry and dark curled in my chest. “Did it happen often… that men looked at you like that? As if they wanted to devour you?” Despite my best intention, my voice held an edge it hadn’t before.
Giulia tilted her head, considering me in that quiet way of hers. “Occasionally. Sometimes men who visited my father, sometimes strangers when I was out with my bodyguards. It’s not like anyone ever approached me.”
“Good,” I growled.
Her eyebrows darted up. “Are you jealous?”
“Possessive. I don’t share well. Or at all.”
She laughed.
“That’s funny to you? I’m dead serious.”
She rolled her eyes. Rolled. Her. Eyes. I
