Becoming His Wife by Hayley Faiman

Chapter Sixteen

TIZIANO

Lying in bed, I look at the ceiling. I haven’t been able to sleep properly in years, I’m at the point where I’m just plain used to it by now. This is my life. Maci stirs next to me. She should be exhausted and sleep well into the morning.

Not only did I fuck her at the beach, we came home, washed the sand off of one another and I fucked her once more before dinner. Then again after we ate. I can’t seem to get enough of her. I honestly didn’t think that I would desire her as much as I do. She satisfies me completely.

My phone buzzes next to me. Rolling out of bed, I grab the device and head outside on the balcony. Sinking down in one of the chaise lounges, I lift my legs and stretch them out in front of me before I slide my thumb across the screen.

“Mia,” I murmur. “You can’t call me anymore.”

There is a moment of silence and she clears her throat. “They’re going to arrest me, I just know it.”

“And you think this because?” I ask.

I close my eyes as the sun rises. It’s already warm against my naked skin. I hear Mia talking, but all I can think about is Maci sound asleep, warm, and naked in my bed. I want to go back there, even lying awake at least I’d be next to her, touching her, smelling her.

“They seized everything in the office. They have the names of our girls,” she whispers.

“They’re just names, Mia. What can they do with that? Do you even use their legal names?”

She doesn’t say anything right away and then she clears her throat. “First names only, no last names. But some of those girls came from Ireland, they were probably kidnapped. We have no way to know who came willingly and who didn’t. Not unless they tell us, but they wouldn’t.”

“They have no other options and you’re treating them better than anyone else,” I say.

She lets out a sigh then a low moan. “I’m scared, Tiziano. I don’t know where to turn.”

I almost laugh, but the situation is not funny. “You have Vino and Arlo. They can help you more than I ever could. Them and Salvatore, have you talked to him?”

She hums. “Yeah, a few hours ago. He’s working on things, trying to find out what he can, but I’m terrified. I haven’t been this scared in a long time.”

“You’re going to be okay. Vino won’t let anything happen to you, babe.”

Everything is still in silence and then she clears her throat again. I can hear the fear in her voice. I can’t comfort her though, she’s not mine to do that with and I thought she was on the same page as me the last time we parted ways. I’m beginning to think that isn’t the case.

“I’m just scared. I’m sure it will all be fine. I’ll let you get back to your bride.”

Closing my eyes, I suddenly get the feeling that someone is watching me. Turning my head, I look back to see my said bride standing at the doorway. She has a short silk robe wrapped around her body, hiding her naked flesh from view.

Holding out my hand, I end the call without saying a word. Tossing my phone onto the floor, I watch as she makes her way toward me. When she’s close enough, I wrap my hand around her waist and tug her down onto my lap.

“Tiziano,” she sighs when I bury my face against the side of her neck.

She tastes like pure sunshine. Kissing down her neck, I suck on the skin at the hollow of her throat before I lean back and look up into her eyes.

She’s smiling, but I can see a haze behind her eyes. She heard me on the phone and knows who I was talking to. I could ignore it, pretend that I didn’t talk to Mia, but that dark haze behind her eyes would only continue to grow.

“That was Mia. They’re having some issues at the club,” I explain.

She nods her head, her eyes clearing, but only just slightly. She doesn’t say anything, so I don’t go into the conversation any deeper. Tugging the tie of her robe open, I expose her body to the warm sun.

“Tiziano,” she gasps, reaching for the edges.

Shaking my head, I press my palm against the center of her chest. “Nobody can see you here, I would never expose what’s mine to other’s eyes, zuccherino.”

My hand moves down her stomach, farther until I cup her warm center. She gasps, her eyes widening. I love how she is still surprised when I touch her. As if I haven’t been touching her for the past few days nonstop.

I can’t keep my fucking hands off her sweet cunt. She no doubt is sore, but I’m not sure that I care too much. I should, I’m sure, but the fact that her pussy is sore from me, it’s sexy as fuck. I’m sure it’s complete Neanderthal thinking, but I’ve never claimed to be a feminist of any kind.

Picking her up, I shift her around, spreading my legs and setting her between them, so that her ass is on the chaise and she’s facing me.

“Spread,” I demand.

She does and I can’t keep my eyes off her pink pussy. She’s swollen, no doubt, but she’s wet, too. Lifting my head, I look up into her eyes. Her chest is rising and falling with her panting breaths. Wrapping my hand around my cock, I stroke myself once, then twice.

“Touch yourself,” I softly demand.

She shakes her head, her eyes wide and a look of almost terror crosses her face.

MACI

Touch myself?

I shake my head.

I’ve never done that before, not with myself, not with him. No thank you. Tiziano strokes himself, his eyes flicking between my legs, then back up to meet my own.

“Touch yourself, zuccherino,” he softly demands again.

I shake my head again. “I’ve never, I don’t know how,” I whisper.

His lips curve up into a grin and I can tell that he absolutely loves this. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life. I know that he told me there is nothing to be embarrassed about, that everything that happens between us is just that—between us. But I’m embarrassed as shit.

“Maci,” he warns.

I don’t know what comes with that warning, but I’m not sure I want to find out either. Inhaling a deep breath, I lift my hand from the chaise and slip my fingers between my legs. I don’t know what I’m doing, I have no fucking idea, but he must like it from the way he watches me, the way his eyes darken and his lids lower and he purses his lips.

My fingers move between my folds, mimicking as best as I can the way that Tiziano touches me. It doesn’t take long, a stroke or two, and the embarrassment from earlier vanishes. Closing my eyes, I arch my back and let my head fall as I shift my hips and enjoy the way my fingers feel.

I get lost in the sensations of the way my fingers feel against my own body. My breathing becomes labored as I climb closer and closer to my release. I’m on the edge, about to tip over when I feel Tiziano’s fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping me completely.

My eyes pop open and I look directly at him, no doubt appearing wild and a bit crazy. He grins, gently tugging my hand from my legs.

“Perfect,” he purrs as he shifts forward, wrapping his hands around my waist.

He picks me up and drags me across the chaise until my legs are forced to wrap around his, then he lifts to his knees and shifts me until I’m on my back and with one quick thrust he’s fully seated inside of me.

Lifting one of my hands, I curl my fingers in the back of his hair, holding on to him while I look at him directly in the eye. I can’t shift my gaze from his, I can’t look away. He has me frozen in place, his hips rolling and moving, filling me, stretching me, owning me the way that only he can.

“Tiziano,” I rasp.

He doesn’t say anything, his gaze holding mine as he continues to move in a rhythm that is keeping me on the edge and not allowing me to fall over. I need more. I don’t know what that more is, but I know that as good as this feels, I’m not going to come like this.

He shifts, his knees pressing into the chaise and he grinds down against me and that’s when it happens. My fingers clutch his hair tighter, my other hand is wrapped around his shoulder and my nails dig into his flesh. I arch my back, feeling the hair of his chest brush my nipples and I come.

“Yes,” I breathe as my body trembles.

He grunts, his hips slamming against me, then he grinds down, once, twice, three more times. Until he buries himself deep inside of me, and I feel him twitch as he lets out a roar and lifts his head. His eyes find mine, his breathing is erratic, panting as he watches me for a breath.

I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. His hips move a few times slowly before he stills once more and lowers himself against me. His chest presses against mine, his hands wrapping around my thighs as he runs his palms up and down my skin.

“My pretty little wife,” he murmurs.

As much as I want to argue with him that I am not that little, nor am I all that pretty. I don’t. Not only is my body far too sated, I’m also completely and totally out of breath. I hum, running my fingers up and down his back, feeling and enjoying his weight against me.

“What shall we do today?” he asks.

“Whatever you want to do,” I say.

He lifts his head, his eyes finding mine and he watches me for a moment. “No, not whatever I want. What do you want to do, zuccherino?”

“What does it mean?” I ask, my voice still breathy and soft.

He grins. “Little sugar,” he explains.

“Why?”

He licks his lips and watches me for a moment. “You’re sweet as sugar, not only to the eye, but in taste as well.”

“Tiziano,” I exhale.

He shrugs a shoulder before pushing off of me. Reaching out, he picks me up and gathers me in his arms, I wrap the robe around myself, and I hear him chuckle behind me, but he doesn’t make me uncover again. Instead, he wraps his arms around me from behind.

I look out at the ocean in front of us, it’s beautiful. One of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen in my entire life. I honestly didn’t think I would ever go anywhere in my life, and visiting another country was something that I didn’t even dream of doing.

Tiziano runs his fingers up and down the silk sleeves of my robe, gently, as if he’s not even paying attention, that he’s just making the motion as if it’s not even a second thought.

“How about we go out on a boat today? Have a picnic lunch?”

Turning my head, I can’t stop the gasp from escaping my lips as I look up at him. “Really?” I cry.

He laughs. “Most women would want to go shopping, buy some Italian clothes, shoes, and handbags. My wife wants to go out on the ocean.” He chuckles.

Wrinkling my nose, I turn around to face him. “I don’t care to shop much,” I admit.

He lifts his hand, cupping my jaw, his thumb slides along my bottom lip. “I’m sure that will change one day, but I have to admit, I enjoy the fact that you don’t care much for it.”

“I doubt it will change,” I grumble.

He chuckles, leaning forward, and I feel his lips brush mine. “We’ll see, zuccherino.”