Chapter 270: I Want All Of You (R-18)

The bedroom lights cast a soft golden glow over them as Luca held Arabella close. Her slight weight meant nothing against the strength of his arms. White hair spilled over his forearm like silk, still faintly damp in places, and the thin nightgown clung to the curves of her body in a way that made his pulse hammer.

The word she had just whispered, Husband, still echoed in his ears, denser and more intimate than any formal title.

He carried her the few steps to the bed and set her down with deliberate care, as though she might shatter. Her cheeks were already flushed, her usually cool gray eyes warmer than he had ever seen them.

Luca braced one knee on the bed and cupped her face with both hands. He kissed her.

This kiss was deep and unhurried, full of the quiet affection that had grown between them since the day he first claimed her. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth until she opened for him with a soft, willing sound.

He tasted the faint mint of her toothpaste and the warmer sweetness that was simply her. Her slender fingers curled into the front of his shirt, holding on as if the kiss itself might carry her away.

When they finally parted, a thin silver thread of saliva briefly connected them before breaking. Her lips were swollen, her breath uneven. She did not look away. Those clear eyes stayed locked on his, wide and serious and just a little afraid.

"Luca..." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She took a breath, her cheeks warming as she met his gaze. "I’m ready."

She hesitated for a moment before softly adding, "I want it... I want you in me."

He went still.

He brushed his thumb across her lower lip. "I’ll be careful. Tell me if anything hurts. Promise me."

She nodded once, solemn.

Luca helped her out of the nightgown with slow, reverent hands. The fabric slipped down her fair shoulders, revealing the soft swell of her breasts, the narrow waist, the long elegant legs that seemed almost too delicate for what was about to happen.

Her skin was porcelain-pale under the light, already beginning to pinken with heat and nerves. He discarded his own clothes without ceremony, then guided her fully onto the bed, settling between her parted thighs.

He kissed her again. Forehead. Eyelids. The corner of her mouth. One hand stroked gently along her side. Only when he felt some of the tension leave her body did he reach between them. She was already slick, the evidence of her readiness making his own control fray. Still he took his time, circling, coaxing, until her hips gave a small involuntary lift.

Then he positioned himself and began to press inside.

The first inch drew a soft startled moan from her throat. Her eyes fluttered but stayed open, fixed on his face. He moved with exquisite care, sinking deeper only when her body yielded, feeling every tight velvet clutch of her around him.

Another soft sound escaped her, half gasp, half moan, each time he gained a little more ground. Her hands found his shoulders and held on, nails lightly scoring his skin.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, voice rough.

"A little... but don’t stop." The words were thin, breathless. "I can feel you. All of you."

He continued the slow measured advance until he was fully seated, buried to the hilt inside the woman who had once seemed made of ice. Her lashes trembled. A fine sheen of sweat already glistened at her temples. Her fair skin was flushing deeper, a rosy tide spreading across her chest and the high arches of her cheeks.

He held still, giving her time to adjust, pressing soft kisses along her jaw. Only when her breathing evened a fraction did he begin to move. Shallow careful strokes that drew soft continuous sounds from her lips. Every withdrawal and gentle thrust pulled another delicate moan from her, the kind that seemed to vibrate straight into his bones.

Her hands slid from his shoulders to his back. After a long minute she whispered, voice soft and almost shy despite the heat between them,

"Faster... please. You can go faster."

His breath caught. He searched her face and found no hesitation, only a quiet courage that stunned him.

"You’re sure?"

She nodded, biting her lower lip. "I’m sure. Husband... please."

The endearment undid the last of his restraint. He rolled his hips and increased the pace, still controlled but deeper, stronger. The wet sound of their joining filled the quiet room. Her soft moans grew more frequent, higher, broken by little gasps whenever he struck particularly deep.

Her fair body turned a deeper prettier red beneath him. Cheeks, throat, the upper slopes of her breasts all flushed with heat and exertion. She kept biting her lip as if trying to muffle the sounds, but they slipped free anyway.

"Husband—" The word broke on a moan when he angled his hips just so. "Ah... Luca... husband—"

He braced one forearm beside her head and used the other hand to cradle her hip, steadying her as he moved. "I’ve got you. You’re doing so well." His voice was low, rough with restraint and awe. "Look at you... taking me like this. My beautiful wife."

Her eyes shone. She reached up and cupped his face with both hands, pulling him down so their foreheads touched. Every thrust drew another soft cry from her, and more and more of those cries ended on the same word.

"Luca... yes—just like that—"

His control frayed further. He kissed her open-mouthed and messy while his hips worked harder, the bedframe giving quiet protests beneath them. Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging lightly into his lower back, urging him on even as her body trembled.

The flush on her skin had deepened to a vivid rose. Her white hair was a wild halo against the pillows. She looked wrecked and radiant and entirely his.

When her inner muscles began to flutter and tighten, he slowed just enough to speak against her mouth.

"Come for me."

Her back arched. A broken high moan tore free. "Luca—!" Her body clenched around him in rhythmic waves. The sight and feel of her coming undone dragged him over the edge with her. He buried himself deep and followed, pulsing inside her with a low guttural sound of her name.

For a long time afterward they stayed locked together, breathing hard. He carefully eased some of his weight onto his forearms so he wouldn’t crush her, but he refused to pull away completely. Her fingers carded weakly through his hair. Her eyes were half-lidded, glassy with residual pleasure, yet still fixed on him with that same quiet intensity.

He brushed a damp strand of white hair from her forehead and pressed a lingering kiss there. He gathered her closer, still joined, and let the quiet of the bedroom wrap around them both.