Until the End of Time (8 page)

“Right there, hovering inside of you,” her husband
went on. “I know what you want—to move, to slide over me until your spine
dips and your mouth goes dry.” She nodded rapidly. Clear words eluded her. “But
for just one moment. I want you to appreciate the sensation.” He pushed in a
fraction more and stopped as a groan left him. “The clamp of your cunt around
me…
cara
,
there is absolutely nothing else that
will ever be as good as this.”

Her breath hitched.

Sansone
raked his teeth
over her collarbone, her throat. “That this belongs to me and me alone, that I
can have it whenever I want, makes me want to beat my fucking chest.” He
hummed. “And it
does
belong to me and
me alone, doesn’t it, Nyssa?”

Pride. Be. Damned. “Every corner,” she panted in
answer.

Could laughter be depraved? If so, her spouse had it
down to an art form. “I don’t need to tell you that you own me, do I?” he
queried, haltingly working her over the portion of his length that he’d speared
her with.

Her head swayed at the same pace of her hips; jarring
in its movements.

“Good.”

The croon of his voice ceased and he slammed her down
completely. She gasped and he caught the surprised sound with the stroke of his
tongue, smoothly guiding her waist into a wind that sent their moans echoing
around the moderately sized room. Jesus Christ had it
always
felt this good? Was she out of her mind to deny herself
something so intoxicating?

He’d told her to appreciate the sensation and she
couldn’t pick one to focus on. The tunneling of his member digging away at what
little logical thinking she had left, the feathering of her walls over every
vein and ridge, the band of his arms, the rasp of his
pecs
against her nipples or the potent drag of his mouth. All of these served to
make her babble.

His hold tightened and the jolt of her motions became
disjointed and out of rhythm. “
Sansone
…”

“Want me to come inside you?” he grated in her ear.
“Give you every ounce of what I have?”

She buried her face in his shoulder, whimpering.
 

“Ask me,” he commanded. “Ask me to come inside you.”

Nyssa dug her knees into his sides and lifted her
head. She petted his jaw, kissed him wherever her lips could find room and
pleaded as her climax crept up with a blinding speed, “Come inside me.”

He took her mouth again. His tongue punished her, his
dick rewarded her and the moment she felt him swelling inside, she clenched
down and exploded.

Tiring
of
this wasn’t even a possibility. The welcoming lull of his wife’s thighs as he
languidly rocked into her, gulping air when his lungs allowed it. Otherworldly
may have been an excessive description to others, but he couldn’t be bothered
to care. They didn’t—and would never—know what it felt like to have
Nyssa’s complete supplication beneath them. There was something about having
your partner leave themself in the palm of your hands with no questions asked
that was heady. Intimacy had been confused with a good fuck on one too many
occasions. However, marriage had taught him that the affection between them lay
in their ability to read what one another wanted before it was voiced.

Sansone
didn’t have to ask
her to tighten
the nestle
of her legs or tease the
space between his shoulder blades. She’d watched his reaction to the caress
enough times to know that was what he needed, that was what heightened his
enjoyment. She didn’t have to tell him that she wanted her nipple bitten and
his hand putting pressure on either side of her throat. There was a road map
already drawn; one that he could follow blindly. The steady, low pants
filtering from her open mouth told him how close she was. The way her thrusts became
fitful. How her lashes fanned upwards. Every detail spurred him on; made his
strokes harder, his breathing harsher.

They hadn’t left the bungalow in days aside from the
occasional walk on the beach or a late swim. Other than that, there was really
nothing that could coax them from their haven. Tonight was their last chance to
enjoy all the luxuries in their reach. Tomorrow they would be forced to face
the world again. But what had been lost was restored—which meant their
steps would be a little surer. That they’d found their way back to this, the
satisfaction of a simple touch, humbled him.

 
He reared
up,
lifting his hands so that his fingers interlocked
with hers and her punch-drunk smile caused his lips to curve into their own. It
was also the moment that he had one, crucial thought. Something he’d meditated
on for the last year but wanted more than anything else right now at this very
moment.

“Io
voglio
che
tu
abbia
il
mio
bambino.”

Nyssa blinked, recognition filtering through some of
the lust in her gaze. She gave a breathless laugh. “I thought we weren’t
supposed to talk about that this week.”

“We weren’t,” he stated simply. “But I’m breaking my
own rule.”
Sansone
untangled one of his hands to
slide it beneath her thigh and lift it towards her chest. “Because I don’t care
how we do it, what it takes, I want you to have my baby.”

She hissed at the change of angles and her shoulders
lifted from the mattress. “Baby…”

“Yes,” he grunted. “
My
baby.”

She shuddered. “I-I
want
that so badly.”

“I know you do. Can feel it every time you come all
over me. You try to drain me.”

Nyssa nodded, gasping.

“I want you to do it again and again and again.” He
withdrew and shushed her when she whined, turning her over onto her belly. His
hands took hold of her waist and he spread her legs before reentering her. The
thrust was deep and left him moaning into her shoulder while she fisted the
bedding. “Until you can’t anymore.”

Her response was muffled and he paid it no mind,
choosing instead to pop his hips against hers. Nyssa’s head snapped back with a
low keen and she moved earnestly, her pussy suckling him in a greedy clasp that
made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“Fuck,
Sansone
…”

“I intend to,” he replied. “As many times as you’ll
allow it.” His eyes narrowed on the dip in her back, the sheen of sweat culling
there. Her tattoo glittered under the light of their bedside lamp and he found
the scripted words to be more than true. With the curl of her smile, she
brought him to his knees. A place he would gladly stay to see her content.

Sansone’s
digits danced
through the lips of her pussy and slipped in the cream gathered there as he
strummed her stiff clit. Her back bowed deeper and her inner muscles cinched
down harder, forcing him to work through the waving tissue. Her sex gave him
his way and behaved under the hammering of his cock. He felt the orgasm coming
before she had the opportunity to heave out his name and rode her into a longer
one. The sight of her spine snaking, shoulders shaking and the low-lidded glare
she lanced him with over her shoulder while her voice warbled through her
climax was more than enough for him. He pinned her to the mattress and buried
himself as deeply as he could, instinct seeing to his need to plant his seed as
far as it would go.

When he finally stopped trembling, he rolled them to
their sides and huffed, “
Gotta
send that oversized
bastard a fruit basket now.”

Nyssa’s hand groped his hip. “
Gonna
ignore the fact that this is the most awkward moment ever to mention your
sibling and suggest that you fill that basket with the finest the local
farmer’s market has to fucking offer and nothing less. You give him exoticism
in which the likes he has never
seen.
You kiss his goddamn ring when you cross paths again and tell him that the
Blackwell-Sultana household will always open its doors to his benevolent
presence.”

And strangely, he couldn’t find one reason to argue
with that suggestion.

***

“
Nous
sommes
tellement
triste
de
vous
voir
partir
.”

Nyssa listened to the words of their captain absentmindedly,
her head resting against
Sansone’s
chest as they made
the trek from their little island and back towards the mainland. It would be a
lie to say she wasn’t also sad to see them leave, but life beyond paradise
demanded it to be so and she was surprisingly eager to return. Every moment of
elation shared here would keep her on a high for weeks to come. All of her
fears hadn’t been completely silenced but her husband had done an excellent job
of intimidating them into a corner at the back of her mind. As far as she was
concerned, his goal had been met. Nyssa had never felt closer to him and she
would remind herself at every turn to
never
lose sight of that connection.

As a matter of fact…

“Where’s the camera, Sultana?” she queried, sitting
up.

He looked at her curiously, but dug it out of his bag
and handed it off. She took it, placed it on the right setting and motioned him
closer.

Pursing his lips, he asked in a distinctly childlike
voice, “
What’cha
doin
’?”

She angled his head the way she wanted and answered,
“Documenting the exact moment I realized how right you were the day you decided
to tell me how lovely of a man you are.”

His eyes glowed with a look that she couldn’t name
before he whispered, “I was also right about how much I deserve lovely things.”

And Nyssa knew without another word that he was
talking about her. Grinning, she pressed her lips to his cheek and snapped the
photo.

Several weeks later…

It hadn’t
gotten
any easier. The wait. The void of silence filling the room, widening in a chasm
of borderline desperation that made every movement feel like a chore. Time
ticked by in an unhurried pace, oblivious to its anxiety causing affect. No, it
wasn’t any easier at all. However, there was a difference. She didn’t sit alone,
staring dumbly at the pattern of their hardwood floors. Instead she leaned
comfortably against
Sansone
, his hand combing through
her now loose hair while they murmured about their days.

He made her snort with his account of finding one of
their younger clients naked and handcuffed to a garden gnome that no one could
rightfully explain the presence of after a party that would go down in history
as one of the wildest. In turn she told him about making a first round draft
pick for Atlanta blubber after he’d made the wrong comment on her choice in
casual clothing earlier today. He then decided that
she
needed to be donned with his office nickname because he thought
himself to be leagues nicer than a woman who could send an almost three hundred
pound defensive lineman into silent tears.

Afterwards he told her about tickets he’d gotten to a
concert for one of her favorite indie rock bands because of some favors called
in to a local talk show host who Samara knew personally. The group had recently
done a funny and enlightening interview where they’d announced their next world
tour to the studio audience. Although it wasn’t set to start for another month
or so, she was excited because the dates that he’d picked were for their shows
in Monaco. This meant an incredible trip off the Mediterranean coast of France
where he’d already gone through the trouble of reserving a small villa.
Apparently it was close the marina and he’d also been online shopping for wigs.
Insane, wonderful man.

“You’ve got issues, dude,” Nyssa informed him between
laughs. “Issues that need the touch of a religious authority figure.”

Sansone
peered down at her
curiously. “Want to get a catholic school girl uniform and add it to the
luggage with the wig?”

She opened her mouth to tout again about him being a
strange,
strange
man and was
interrupted.

Jingle! Jingle!
Jingle!

The air seemed to suddenly
flee
the room leaving them numbly sitting there staring wide eyed at the bathroom
door. Anxiety roiled through her belly and before she could pet it, his palm
was there, rotating in soothing motions.

“Would you like for me to look?” he queried softly
against her temple.

Nyssa bit her lip and jerked her head in a nod,
unable to verbally tell him, “Yes, for the love of God, yes.
 
Because I’m terrified and can’t do it
myself.”

As usual, he understood and ambled to his feet. She
watched as he strolled into the bathroom with nothing aside from a cloak of
confidence following him. How he did it, she would never know.

Relax and wait,
she coached herself.
Don’t tense.
Don’t. Tense. Breathe.

Heart knocking in her chest, Nyssa waited for the
telltale sound of his footsteps as he re-entered the bedroom and lifted her
head. His shoulders were lowered, his hand was clenched around the small stick
in his grasp and his expression was grim.

Fuck.
The
answer was no again. Nyssa waited for the crushing blow of disappointment and
yet, it never came. It was more of a gentle sweep this time.
Unsettling,
but not uncomfortable.

She gave him a hopeful smile and a small shrug.
“Seems like we’ll have to keep trying, Sultana.”

He didn’t respond, just walked forward until he stood
before her and then crouched down. His hands shook and Nyssa frowned, reaching
out to massage the balled muscles around his shoulders. “Hey, it’ll happen.
Maybe not the traditional way, but—”

“
Cara,
look,”
her husband interrupted, nodding towards the stick.

Her lips turned down and she resisted the need to say
something else comforting. Instead she chose to do as he asked and looked. Her
tummy and heart met in her throat. “Sunny…”

“That’s a plus, baby,”
Sansone
said on a strained laugh. “
That
is a
plus.” He lifted his head, gave her the full force of his jubilation in a smile
that knocked her on her proverbial ass and voiced what she couldn’t because her
mouth was slack. “You’re. Pregnant.”

The End?