Page 66 of Diego

He takes himself in his hand and guides the head of his cock to my entrance.

He circles it, teasing me, getting himself wet. He doesn't push in.

I'm on the verge of tears. I'm so desperate for him.

"Sadist," I spit out again. "Just fuck me already."

He laughs again. "Sei incantevole." His voice is warm and flirtatious. "I like you like this."

I have no idea what that means, but it sends shivers down my spine.

Then he pushes forward, just a little. Just the head of him breaching me.

I gasp, my back arching.

It's not enough. It's not nearly enough. I need all of him.

He rocks back and forth, pushing in just a little more each time, driving me insane. I can't stand the pleasure of it, the anticipation. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming for him to fill me completely. The feeling of being slowly stretched by him is overwhelming.

I try to wrap my legs around him to pull him in, to force him deeper, but he anticipates me. He shifts his weight and pins my legs with his, holding me open. I'm completely at his mercy.

The thought is terrifying and thrilling in equal measure.

I'm not a woman who gives up control easily. I'm not a woman who enjoys feeling helpless.

But with him... with him, it feels different. It feels safe. It feels right.

"Please," I whisper, the word raw and ragged, my pride a distant memory. "Diego, please."

"Look at me," he commands.

My eyes fly open to meet his, and I nearly gasp at the sight. His eyes are so dark they're almost black, and they're burning with a hunger that makes my stomach clench.

"Say my name again," he says, nearly growling.

"Diego," I breathe.

And then, with one hard thrust, he's inside me.

My cry is trapped in my throat as my head flies back on the pillow. The sudden, intense fullness is staggering.

He fills me completely, stretching me almost to the point of pain. I feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It’s exactly what my body has been craving, and now that it has it, it’s almost too much to handle. He feels impossibly hard, impossibly big.

"You feel," he pants, "absolutely perfetta."

He stays still for a moment, letting me adjust, letting the initial shock subside.

After what feels like forever, my body starts to relax around him. The muscles in my thighs unclench. My breathing evens out. The pain fades, leaving only a deeply satisfying fullness.

But it only lasts a moment before another feeling takes its place: an intense need for him to move.

He must feel the shift in me because he asks, "You okay?"

I can only nod.

He takes that as the okay he needs and shifts a little, pulling out just a little before sliding back in.

A moan escapes my lips.