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“You look like some kind of goddess of the night,” Gian says in a tender voice. “The moonlight looks good on you,” he says with a satisfied growl.
I’m pleased. I love when he says things like this to me. Gian is the first person to let me know that I’m actually attractive. But even though others find me attractive and I recognize that now, Gian is the only one who makes me feel beautiful. More than that, he makes me feel cherished. Cared for. Wanted. Safe.
I'm so safe in his arms.
I let out a nervous giggle. “Guess we’ll save so much on the lingerie budget,” I offer up a bit of humor, and then bite my lip when he closes all the spaces within me and fucks his cock all the way up my pussy again.
Gian’s charming grin in the moonlight actually makes my pussy tingle. My clit twitches. That’s how beautiful h
is face is, how handsome his smile is before he laughs. “Oh, but I’m not going to stop fucking you in the daylight, either. Though that’s not a promise about tonight, as I don’t know how much longer I want to last in your sweet pussy tonight. I missed you.” The admission that he missed me feels warmer than all the other words. What was light becomes heavy. What was sweet becomes treasured.
I know that I’ll never forget how he said that. I wish I could tell him how much he means to me, but I don’t even know how to put those feelings into words or even expressions with my body.
“I missed you, too, Gian,” I say. The words are true but they are inadequate.
Gian says more with his body, with his words, than I could with an entire dictionary in my hands and a thousand years. The only thing more mysterious to me than what I wish I could say to Gian is what on earth it is that I feel for him.
I don’t know what being in a relationship feels like. Other than the incredible experiences that I have with Gian, I don’t even know what sex or orgasms feel like. I just know that…I don’t ever want to be without him.
Gian wants me, after all, he insisted on keeping me forever. But it feels like more and more, Gian is conflicted beyond what he feels. There’s something else, especially now with his upset demeanor when he arrived. The slower and deeper he strokes into my pussy, the more my mind obsesses over every detail I can think of.
“Where did you go, baby girl?” Gian asks. His lips close over mine, eating any answer I might've had. And I didn’t have one. How do you put into words things you don’t know and talk about the very things that you can’t put into words?
I let myself fall into a kiss. Even though he’s on top of me, the feel of his lips on mine, kissing me slow and deep and sensual as the way that he slides his cock into me is enough to make me feel disconnected from space, time, or any worries that were on my mind.
When he starts to speed up, worries are a million miles away and I’m aching with the intense pressure building up within me. The orgasm aching to be released builds up in my body and makes me want to scream out, to beg. But that’s not how this works.
I kiss Gian deeper, roll my body against his, hold him tight, and let myself be driven further and further into madness. I ache for him, long for him. I could live forever in the feeling of his cock inside me. His lips pressed against mine. His tongue sweeping over mine. Gian tastes like a home I’ve never known. The scent of him makes me feel like I’m in a private world where nothing can hurt me.
The arms wrap tighter around him. Squeezing Gian, I lighten my kiss for just a moment and inhale still wrapped up in our kiss. I want to breathe him in forever. I never want to leave his arms. My pussy is shivering. My legs tremble around him and I ache for this to never stop…and my clit is burning with the fire of an angry sun with an urgent need to cum.
It snuck up on me in the serenity of the moment, but it turns my kiss from sweet and passionate to needy and hungry. I’m devouring his mouth the way that his body and his mouth have taught me. I need release, but I have that almost fear in the moment where I get so close to cumming. I guess I’m not quite ready for the intensity of the sensations that I feel until they’re rolling over me so much that I can’t possibly control them, and then I do, for Gian. I hold back an orgasm for him to grant it for me, and that may be twisted in all the wrong ways, but it makes me indescribably happy. I long for him to grant me that which makes me feel more alive than I ever have. I want to come undone when he says so. I like when he’s buried deep within me, and that incredibly sexy voice lets me know that it's time to ride the waves we started to their highest parts. The orgasms that I have with him touching me are the only orgasms I’ve had…but they’re just too amazing for words. It's strange, but it's what I like.
I’m reminding myself of that fact while I’m tangling with the need building within me. Gian’s smile, spread across his lips now, makes me so much wetter. The feel of him smiling when we kiss is so tender and sensual and it makes me happier than I know how to say. I remember the Giancarlo Sandoval that I met not that long ago who looked like he never met a smile worth paying for. I don’t just mean women…I mean Gian looked like he never, ever smiled. Thinking about it now breaks my heart and I kiss him impossibly deeper. Let me take his breath away and he’ll get an idea of just how much I need him.
He’s smiling now because he can feel me trembling. I can’t keep kissing him, the tremors overtake me and my need threatens to overcome my body.
Gian tangles his fingers through my hair and moves his kisses to behind my ear, down my neck. “You’re shaking for me,” Gian says in a low, sensual voice. His lips touch my neck when he speaks and that nearly breaks me right there. The hum of his delicious mouth on my skin is a raw, passionate mark against the sands of my desire. With the slightest touch, Gian’s passion can touch me and draw lines where there weren’t any, and make me ache so much I think I might die.
Right now is one of those times I feel like my end might be near. I remember reading about the French calling orgasms little deaths. I understand that now, though I think I’ll suffer a big death if I don’t get to cum soon. Still, Gian’s torturing me with his mouth, and now he starts to thrust faster into me.
Picking up the pace in how he’s fucking me is exactly the sort of thing that builds the pressure inside my pussy to a fever pitch. I’m mewling, whimpering, begging without words to be allowed to cum.
I could beg with words, but I don’t even bother trying to summon them. I don’t want to. I want to see what Gian wants to do with my body, and what he wants my body to do.
Gian is trying to kill me with his cock. There’s no other explanation. He knows how much I enjoy being on the precipice of an orgasm and he’s going to torment me as much as possible. I can’t complain. Well, I can and have, but I delight in the erotic torture. The sensual way that Gian can keep me so much on the edge of every pleasure and then draw me back… an ever-receding wave and tide coming back in makes my thoughts blur into nothing. I’ve never felt so free as I do when Gian fucks me.
Some people meditate. I find that boring and time wasted. I'm always going to start thinking about my grocery list, or what my next day at work is going to be like.
Some people turn to vices like drugs or alcohol. I’ve seen those tear my brother, Tommy, apart.
Me? I let myself get fucked by the wealthy casino owner that could've chopped off some of my brother’s body parts to get him to pay up his gambling debts. I let him because I want him. It all started as some deal, but it's turned into something I don’t even begin to try to understand. Whatever it is that we have, I just know that it's something precious. Something I want to hold onto.
It's more than the sex. Incredible as the sex is. Never before in my life did I place a high priority on sex. Doubtlessly, now, I'm placing a priority on it now. But there’s something about Gian that’s so much more than about his cock or what he can do to me with it. I'm aching for him all the time, but it's more than sex. Gian makes me feel safe. I feel cared for. I know that he cares about what makes me happy, what I need.
The fact that he also seems to crave fucking me as much as I craved being fucked by him? That’s just major bonus points.
My whole life I figured I never needed sex, and I had no desire to go after it. No man interested me.
