“Ready?”
“Please.”
My cock pushes forward. She opens for me inch by inch. Trembling. I stop every time she tenses. Wait. Continue when she does.
“Non ho mai avuto questo.“ Whispered against her back. I’ve never had this. Not the act. The trust.
I pull her up. Her back against my chest. Both on knees. The angle deeper. She makes a sound that comes from somewhere primal. I reach around her. Find her clit again. Work it in time with the roll of my hips.
Her head drops against my shoulder. Shaking.
“Mine?” Not a claim. A question. The man who used to take, asking.
“Yours.” Her voice breaking. “Always.”
“Yours.” Given back. Because she owns me. Has owned me since she put her palm on my bare chest and didn’t pull away.
“Now.”
She comes. Her pussy gripping my cock in waves, my name torn from her throat. Shattered.
The trust of her. The sight of her undone. All of it.
I come. Hard. A groan dragged from the deepest part of me.
“Sei tutto.“ Against her neck. ”Sei tutto per me.“ You are everything to me.
Weeks of earning those words. Every scar. Every silent night. Every time I chose to stay instead of run. They belong here. Now.
Careful.Everything after is careful.
I pull free. Watching her face. She winces. My hands still.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Don’t you dare look at me like that.”
The bathroom is three steps. I run the cloth under warm water.
Warm cloth between her thighs. Careful. She lets me.
Water from the mini fridge. Two bottles.
“Take these.” I set two ibuprofen on the nightstand beside her water.
“You’re hovering.”
“I’m taking care of you. Shut up.”
Her expression softens. I note it.
Sheets folded down. I adjust the pillow between her knees. She watches me do it with an expression I can’t read.
“What?”
“Nothing. You just. The pillow thing.”
“What about it.”
“It’s very. Thorough.”
