"I... I thought it was Luca," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
I didn’t cover myself. I didn’t close my legs. I stayed exactly where I was, completely naked on the couch, legs spread wide, my soaked p***y on full display for my husband’s father.
Marco stepped deeper into the living room, his powerful frame filling the space like a storm cloud. His hands clenched tightly at his sides, the veins on his forearms standing out. His dark eyes raked over my body slowly, hungrily, lingering on my hard n*****s and the wetness glistening between my thighs.
God, he was everything my husband wasn’t.
Marco Valtieri was a man in his full glory, tall, broad-shouldered, with a muscular chest that strained against his tailored shirt, silver threading through his dark hair, and a jawline sharp enou
