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When he shrugs out of his shirt, my gaze rakes over him, seeing him without his clothes for the first time. His chest is lean and muscled, with a smattering of dark hair and tattoos curving down the insides of his shoulders and over his pecs, wrapping around his sides. Tattoos that can be hidden by a shirt, that I’ve never seen before, and it makes it sexier somehow, seeing them now. I reach up, tracing the lines with my fingertips, and I feel him shudder underneath my touch.
He reaches down to undo his belt, dragging his zipper down with a sharp motion. I have to stifle another moan when his cock springs free, thick and long and impossibly hard, the thick vein at the top throbbing visibly. I reach for him, wrapping my fingers around the hot, straining length, and Lorenzo’s eyes flutter closed.
“Come here,” I whisper, spreading my legs a little wider, and I guide him down between my thighs.
Lorenzo lifts me a little, his hands on my waist, moving me back against the pillows. His cock nudges at my entrance, a blunt pressure that tells me exactly how large he is—almost too large for my petite frame. I’m far from a virgin, but the anticipation of the stretch of his cock makes me feel like one.
He feels it, too. “God, you’re tight,” he murmurs, one hand against the pillow as the other adjusts himself between my thighs, rubbing the tip of his cock in the slick wetness there. “Tight and hot?—”
The lust in his voice is almost a palpable thing. I feel him press against me once more, the swollen head pushing, and then he slips an inch into me. Too tight, almost, and I let out a gasp that I quickly muffle.
Lorenzo goes still, every muscle in his body tensed. “I can’t—” he breathes, his hips rocking, and he slides into me another inch. “It’s too good, fuck?—”
The pained desire in his voice, the way he shudders above me as if about to lose that last shred of self-control, makes me tighten around him as I lean up to kiss him. “Then fuck me,” I breathe, and his hands convulse against the blanket and the pillow, where he’s gripping both as if for dear life.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He leans in, kissing me softly, his hips nudging forward as he pushes in another inch. It’s excruciatingly pleasurable, more pleasure than pain, the feeling of being so utterly filled washing over me as I tangle my legs around his and try to urge him deeper.
“I won’t break,” I whisper. I slant my mouth over his, goading him, dragging my nails down his shoulders and the length of his back. “I want your cock, Lorenzo. I want more.”
I want him to break. I want to find out what he’s like when he lets go, how it would feel for him to utterly wreck me, to devastate me entirely. But he inches forward, trembling, his cock slowly filling me as he kisses me again and again, groaning softly against my lips.
“I could break you,” he whispers, his body strung taut. “A part of me wants to, Mila. I want to fuck you until you scream my name.” Another inch. “Until you shatter underneath me, again and again.” Another inch. “Until you’re so wrung dry from pleasure that you can’t move, and I’m using your body for my own pleasure, fucking you on my cock until I fill you up with my cum.” His voice is deep, rasping, strained with need. Another inch, and then he sinks into me entirely, his hips pressed to mine as he holds himself there. “I could hurt you, Mila, and I don’t want to do that. As much as I want to fuck you until you’re raw and broken and entirely mine—I don’t want to hurt you.”
The words are breathed against my ear, punctuated by the slow slide of his cock as he draws himself out of me nearly to the tip, and then begins to slide into me again, inch by exquisite inch. The slow build is like nothing I’ve ever felt, blissful and tortuous all at once, letting me feel every bit of his cock as he fills me again.
His mouth drags down my throat, down to my breasts, and his back arches as he rises up on his knees slightly. His palms press my breasts inwards, his tongue tracing patterns on my skin, over my nipples as he thrusts shallowly, finding a spot inside of me that I never knew existed at all. I can’t breathe as his tongue, and his cock drive me higher together, that pleasure winding tight in my belly as I feel a second orgasm building.
I arch upwards, grinding on his cock, seeking more. I feel him tense, feel his hips snap forward as he thrusts a fraction harder, and then regains control of himself. I’ve never had anyone fuck me so slowly, so carefully, and I feel as if I’m on the verge of coming apart at the seams.
“I’m going to make you come for me again, dolce,” he breathes, the words filled with such confidence, such assurance, that it sends a beginning tremor of pleasure through me. “You’re going to come all over my cock, principessa.”
It feels too intimate, more romantic than it should, slow and quiet as we’ve had to be. I close my eyes, pressing my mouth into the pillow as he fucks me with long, sure strokes, the orgasm hovering on the very edge. My skin feels hot, tight, sensitive, all of it constantly on the verge of being too much, and when he turns my head so I’m forced to look at him, I try to shake it.
“I can’t be quiet,” I whisper, a touch of panic in my voice. “When I—I’m so close, I can’t?—”
“You can, dolce,” Lorenzo whispers. And then his other hand slides between us, one fingertip circling my clit as he thrusts into me to the hilt, and I see stars.
Dimly, I realize he’s put his hand over my mouth, covering it and stifling my cry as I arch and fall apart beneath him. I gasp, feeling as if I can’t breathe, the feeling so overwhelming that it threatens to shatter me. It’s too much, and at the same time, I never want it to stop.
I feel him rock deeply inside of me, his own breath stuttering, and I have the presence of mind to realize that we haven’t used a condom in the instant before he pulls out. The look on his face is almost one of pain as his hand wraps around his cock, stroking hard, his breathing heavy.
“Wanted—to—fill you up—fuck!” He snarls the last word under his breath as the muscles in his thighs and abdomen clench, the sight of them flexing making my mouth go dry and my body ache for him all over again as his cock throbs in his fist. The first hot spurt of his orgasm spills over my belly, then over my breasts, glazing my nipple as Lorenzo grits his teeth and works his cock above me, a need filling his eyes that I know could have only been slaked by coming inside of me.
He leans forward, bracing himself on one hand as the other strokes his cock, the hot splash of his cum still streaking over my skin. He’s breathing hard as his hand slows, the tip of his cock nudging against my belly as his eyes close, and then he rolls to one side with his hand on my hip as he pulls me close.
“I forgot a condom,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on?—”
“It’s fine,” I whisper. I don’t want the moment between us to break—it feels too fragile, as if talking too much will shatter it. “You didn’t—you know.”
Lorenzo nods slowly. He rolls to face me, pulling me closer still with his hand against my hip, and the urge to curl into him and fall asleep on his shoulder is strong. I shouldn’t trust this man, shouldn’t allow him so close or have so much trust in him, but I can’t seem to help myself. Every time I catch a glimpse of what’s beneath his stiff outer shell, I want him more. I want him. And I find myself not wanting him to leave.
It would be easy to fall asleep with him like this, in my bed, curled up together. Even the sticky feeling of his cum on my skin doesn’t make me want to get up and go wash off immediately. There’s something to it that I like, a possessive feeling of being marked by him that sends a soft feeling of fresh arousal through me.
But if he stays the night, there’s a possibility he won’t wake up in time to leave in the morning before Niki sees him. That would raise other unspoken questions, other assumptions that I’m not ready for.
Lorenzo made it very clear how little of a place we could occupy in each other’s lives. And earlier, in this bed, he had said just for tonight.
I don’t want to wake up in the morning and come face to face with how things have gone back to the way they were before.
