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“Oh Fiero,” she parts her lips, trying to find the right words, but closes them up again.
“There’s nothing you can say, cara mia,” I explain, giving her a wry smile. “Just the same as there’s nothing I can say to bring you comfort. It’s just –”
“- one of those things,” we both say in unison, holding hands.
After a few moments of silence, she thanked me for sharing that with her. "I'm so sorry for what you've been through, and it makes me feel just a little less lonely to know I’m not alone in this. Even though I wish the circumstances were different for the both of us."
I play around with our fingers, weaving mine in and out of her delicate, gentle ones. It was a coping mechanism I learned as a child. Fidgeting helped me work through thoughts that were too painful to put into words.
“Romola, you must know,” I say, “that pain is vital in life. Without pain, there is no joy. Without bad, no good. Since our earth’s existence, we have loved and lost, and that’s why we know the value of love. You’re blessed to have had a father you could mourn. I’m blessed to have had parents I can miss. There are children out there,” I motion at the world in general, “who were never loved enough to know our pain. Ah, is there a blessing larger than this?”
With each word, her tears dry up. I feel a warmth surge through me as our shared pain binds us together. We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of our experiences settling between us.
“Fiero,” she whispers, inching so close that I can feel her breath upon my lips. “I know you might not believe me, but your words sparked in me a gratitude I never thought I would have. Thank you…”
“Romola,” I moan, unable to stop myself from doing what every cell in my being is screaming at me to do.
“Fiero,” she whispers, parting her lips in invitation. The last thing I remember before I close my eyes and lean in is the gentle remnants of a storm in her gray eyes, which now seek to fulfill a desire I’m overwhelmed to learn she shares with me.
My lips draw towards her like the pull of the moon on the tides. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of us as my lips meet hers oh so gently. Her lips are soft like cotton candy and taste sweet like wine and lipstick. She lets me in just enough for me to be struck by the tenderness she displays and expects.
Our breathing grows ragged as we explore and taste one another. She puts her tongue against mine, and I hold back a groan as I inch closer for more. At this moment, I realize that I have found something precious and rare – a connection I never thought I was capable of having.
I don’t want to rush her, yet I want all of her.
The scent of Romola's perfume, a delicate mix of jasmine and bergamot, fills my senses as I deepen our kiss, pulling her closer to me. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and I can feel her heart beating wildly against mine, her breasts pressed against my chest.
"Romola, my dove," I murmur against her lips, my voice hoarse with desire, unable to hold back the rambling thoughts in my head. "I want you more than anything."
"Take me, Fiero," she breathes, her eyes wide and filled with longing. "Please, I need you too."
With every touch, every caress, it's as if we're trying to make up for the years spent alone, lost in our own pain. My hand slowly pulls up the soft material of her skin-tight silver dress, and my fingers slide up the soft flesh of her thighs. She trembles beneath my touch.
“Oh Fiero,” she begs. “Help me forget, please…”
My heart soars at the honor, and I don’t need to be told twice.
My fingers trace a path toward her panties, causing her to gasp as they graze over the cloth covering her. She gasps and digs her fingers into my scalp, throwing back her head in the moonlight, revealing the curves of her breasts, spilling out from the neckline that’s fallen too low.
She is, in this moment, an image of a goddess, uninhibited and divinely beautiful.
This very sight of her unlocks something within me, and I grab her ferociously and guide her to sit on my lap, positioning her in a way that allows me better access to explore her body. As my hands roam over her curves, her head falls onto my shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed in anticipation.
"Your touch," she murmurs, "it makes me come alive."
"Oh, sweetheart,” I place my lips to her cleavage and give her a little nib. “Now let me make you cum.”
She releases her breath in a soft, shaky exhale, wanting more. With the rain splattering around us, her dress now clings mildly to her figure, showcasing every curve, the hint of skin spreading fire through me.
God, I want to see her naked. She wraps her arms around me, and I slide a finger through the edge of her panties and feel her pussy. Gently, I glide one in her, and her wetness encourages me to put in another finger. She relaxes at the fullness, taking both of my fingers greedily, and I begin to dab them against her walls.
Her body clenches and trembles under my skilled ministrations, her breath hitching as the sensations build within her. Her lips part as if to speak, but no words come forth – only gasps and sighs that tell me everything I need to know about the effect I have on her.
"Ti prego, Fiero," she pleads, her nails digging into my shoulders as she clings to me for support when I change pace, position, and speed. "Non posso... non posso più..."
"Let it happen, amore mio," I encourage her, my own arousal growing at the sight of her surrendering to the passion between us. "I've got you, my dove."
And then, with a final, desperate cry, Romola reaches her climax. Her body convulses in ecstasy, every muscle tensing and releasing in waves of pure, unfettered bliss. I hold her tightly, keeping her safe and grounded as she rides the crest of her pleasure.
