Chapter 60 Perfect Fit
ARYA
“Show me,” I whispered.
He closed the distance between us, scooping me up effortlessly and carrying me to the bed.
Luca laid me down gently, then began removing his own clothes with unhurried movements. I watched, mesmerized by the play of muscle beneath his skin, the predatory grace in every motion. When he was finally naked, he climbed onto the bed beside me, propping himself up on one elbow.
“I want to memorize every part of you,” he murmured, his free hand skimming up my side, making me shiver. “Every freckle, every curve, every sound you make.”
His fingers traced patterns on my skin, gentle explorations that made my nerve endings sing. When he reached my breast, his thumb circled my nipple with feather-light touches until it peaked, sensitive and aching.
I arched into his touch, seeking more, but he maintained that same slow, deliberate pace. His mouth followed where his hands had been, pressing kisses along my collarbone, down the valley between my breasts, across my stomach.
“Luca,” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his hair.
“Patience, love.” His breath ghosted across my skin, raising goosebumps. “We have all night. And I plan to take my time.”
He shifted lower, spreading my legs with gentle pressure. The first touch of his mouth against my center made me gasp, my hips lifting off the bed. His strong hands on my thighs held me steady as he explored me with his tongue.
The sensation built slowly, pleasure unfurling like a flower opening to the sun. Wave after wave of sensation rolled through me as he worked me with patient dedication, taking his time with what made me gasp, what made me moan, what made my body tremble.
When I finally came apart, pleasure radiated outward from my core until every cell in my body sang with it. I cried out his name, my hands fisting in the sheets as the orgasm seemed to go on and on.
Before I’d fully recovered, Luca was moving up my body, settling between my legs. The head of his cock pressed against my entrance, and he paused, his eyes locked on mine.
“I love you,” he said simply. “More than I thought possible.”
“I love you too.” The words felt both monumental and completely natural. “So much.”
He entered me slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size, to the feeling of completeness that came with having him inside me. When he was fully seated, he stilled, his forehead resting against mine, our breath mingling in the space between us.
“You’re mine,” he whispered. “And I’m yours. Completely.”
“Yes,” I breathed, wrapping my legs around his waist, drawing him impossibly deeper.
He began to move, each thrust measured and deliberate. Each felt like a physical manifestation of the bond between us. Each movement sends pleasure spiraling through me.
I ran my hands over his back, feeling his muscles flex and bunch under my palms. He kissed me deeply, swallowing my moans as he maintained that steady and devastating rhythm. The friction was perfect, the angle hitting that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Feel what you do to me,” he murmured against my lips. “How you make me whole.”
I could feel it, the rightness of us together, the way our bodies fit like they’d been designed for each other.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded softly. “I want to feel you come around me.”
I obeyed, my hand sliding between our bodies to find the bundle of nerves at my apex. The added stimulation combined with his steady thrusts pushed me rapidly toward another peak.
“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “Let me feel you.”
The orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, stronger than the first, pulling me under completely. I cried out, my inner walls clenching around him rhythmically as pleasure consumed me entirely.
Luca groaned, his control finally breaking. His thrusts became erratic, deeper, more urgent. I held him close, wanting to give him this, wanting to be his anchor as he let go.
“Arya,” he gasped my name like a prayer as he found his own release, his body shuddering as he spilled inside me.
We stayed like that for long moments, bodies joined, hearts racing in tandem. He peppered soft kisses across my face, my neck, my shoulders, murmuring words of love between each one.
When he finally withdrew, he immediately gathered me close, tucking me against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat slowing, matching mine.
I reveled in how perfect it felt. A month ago, I’d been trapped in a marriage where I felt invisible, diminishing with each passing day. Now I was here, held by a man who saw me completely, who loved every part of me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For seeing me. The real me. For making me feel like I’m enough exactly as I am.”
He tilted my chin up, his eyes fierce. “You’re more than enough. You’re everything.”
And as I drifted toward sleep in his arms, sated and loved and completely content, I marveled at how much my life had changed.
Not bad at all for a woman they’d called weak.