“It was my mother’s, wasn’t it?” she asks, turning her finger toward the light. “I’ve only seen it in pictures. Papa tucked her jewelry away and never let anyone near it. When Matteo got married, he gave Sofia my mother’s wedding necklace. He gave Antonio a small silver locket she always wore, Dante got my mother’s heirloom pearl earrings to gift to his bride, Enzo was gifted with my mother’s engraved watch, and I always wondered what…whether I would get something she wore at her wedding.”
“He kept her ring just for you. It’s a family heirloom—one of the few things she carried with her from Italy,” I say, walking to her. “He gave it to me when I told him I intended to marry you.”
“I love it,” she says, looping her arms around my neck, brushing her lips softly over mine. “You were wrong about something in your speech.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” I ask, dropping my hands to her ass and pulling her against me.
“I’ve known I loved you since I was fourteen, maybe younger,” she says, catching me off guard. “You were the one having a harder time accepting it. I wasn’t.” She leans away when I move in to kiss her. “I finally got you where I’ve always wanted you.”
“Let me kiss you.”
“You will,” she promises, a gleam in her eyes. “But first, I want to try something.”
Before I can stop her, she slips from my arms and crosses to the corner of the studio. I watch her grab a folded white sheet and bring it to the center. “You want to paint— now?” I ask, my cock throbbing painfully at the thought of waiting any longer to be inside of her. “Principessa…”
“Let’s paint each other,” she says, turning from the sheet to collect a handful of paint cans and set them down before gathering brushes. “I want you to be my canvas for the night.”
“It pains my soul to think of that beautiful dress getting paint on it,” I say, moving to touch her.
“Who says I’ll be wearing it?” she teases, sending what’s left of my blood rushing south. There is a wicked gleam in her eyes as she reaches up to work the buttons of my shirt. “You said I’m talented. Don’t you want to see me at work—painting you, letting you paint me.”
“Goddamn, baby, how did I land someone like you?” I growl, crashing my mouth to hers in a long, deep kiss. She whimpers in my arms, fingers moving impatiently over me, so I move to help her, shrugging off my shirt. I break the kiss and spin her around to unzip her dress.
What follows is a flurry of touches, strokes of wet brushes across skin, my lips finding hers every few seconds. It’s deeply arousing, and when I haul her to straddle me, we’re covered in paint and practically vibrating with need.
“Mine!” I growl low into her neck as I push up into her wet, tight heat. She cries out as I fill her in one rough stroke, hands gripping my shoulders. Chanting my name in a fevered moan as I move. Fuck, she’s wet and tight and so dam hot—the way she clenches around me, the sounds she makes as our paint-slicked skin slides against one other.
“Faster, Nico,” she whimpers, her moans climbing in volume.
With a snarl, I spin her around, lowering her onto the paint-streaked sheet, gripping her hips as I thrust into her. My eyes stay on her, drinking in every expression that crosses her face as my cock fills her. “Myprincipessa…my fiancée. Mine.”
“Yours,” she sobs, tits bouncing with every thrust, the desperate need to bury myself deeper and make her a part of me overwhelming everything. Christ, I would climb into her skin if I could and make us one. Mind, body, and soul.
“You’re everything,” I growl when she bucks against me, her hips trembling. “I love you so much, baby. Come for me.” I drop my mouth down to her chest, lips closing around her nipple moments before her back arches off the floor with a cry, legs locking around me as she clenches hard around my cock and takes me with her. I come with a groan, driving deep as I empty myself into her.
It’s her name on my lips, in my mind and heart as I pour everything into her. It’s her name that stays long after we’ve both collapsed onto the floor in a mess of paint, heavy breathing, and damp skin.
“You’re squishing me, Nico.”
“Oh, sorry,” I laugh, sitting up and taking her hand to bring her up with me. I look around the mess we’ve made and laugh again. “I had no idea lovemaking could be an art form.”
“I think this might be my favorite piece ever,” she says, turning around to look at it.
“We’ll hang it in our bedroom so we can remember this day,” I say, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her back down. “I do think it could use a few more strokes of color, don’t you?”
“In my expert opinion…I think you are right,” she grins, combing her hands through my hair, grabbing a fistful, and pulling my lips down to her. “Maybe we can start another one when we run out of space on this sheet.”
“I’m all yours, baby.”
Tonight, the next one, and every last one after that.
~The End