Page 240 of Lorenzo

I don't blame him. I'm not entirely sure what just happened myself.

Instead of trying to explain, I show him.

I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him close, then I wrap my hand around his cock, guiding him back to my entrance. "Please," I whisper against his lips. "Love me, Lorenzo. I need you."

He isn't fully convinced. His eyes still search mine, but he must see something in them that reassures him because he kisses me again, softer this time, as he allows me to guide him back to my entrance.

He pushes inside me slowly, gently now, and I let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of fullness, of rightness when he's fully seated deep inside me. There's still an ache, a need for more, but it's different now.

He leans over me, bracing his forearms on either side of my head, and looks down at me.

"Is this better?" he asks softly.

"Much."

The position allows me to see him, all of him. I can watch the shift in his expression as he moves within me. I can see the love in his deep, dark eyes. I can touch his face, his shoulders, his chest.

The need that was driving me before returns, but it's more emotional now, less primal. I still want him, but I want more than the physical release. I want the connection.

His movements are still slow, still careful, and it's driving me insane. I want to be consumed, and yet, I want to savor every single second of this.

I lift my hips to meet his, and he groans.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" he mutters, dropping his forehead to mine.

"Maybe," I pant. "But what a way to go."

He laughs, the sound rough and strained.

"I love you," I whisper.

His hips still for a second, then he thrusts hard, burying himself even deeper inside me.

I cry out, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"Again," I gasp. "Just like that."

He does. He pulls back almost completely, then thrusts back into me, again and again. The bed creaks in protest with each hard thrust, the headboard thumping a rhythm against the wall that sounds like a wild heartbeat.

I clutch at him, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders, my legs locked tight around his waist as I meet him thrust for brutal thrust. This is what I wanted. This wild, almost desperate joining, but with all the intimacy, all the connection, I crave.

He buries his face in my neck, his breathing ragged against my skin. The sounds of our bodies meeting, of our harsh breathing, of our whispered words of love, fill the room, creating a world where only the two of us exist.

He shifts slightly, and the change in angle—

Oh God.

Right there.

My body lights up like a Christmas tree, and I go rigid, as if afraid to move and lose that perfect angle, that impossible pleasure.

He knows.

He always knows.

"Right there?" he murmurs, doing it again, slower this time, grinding his hips against me.

My eyes roll back in my head, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful, a sharp, sweet ache I can feel in every part of my body.