AllFreeNovel
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Both of us seem to know by touch just what the other needs. We know how to share that feeling as our bodies thrash on the now slippery leather.
At one point, I nearly slide right off, prompting a change of positions between us, but in no way losing any intensity.
“Uhhh, take me, Rocco,” I hear myself ordering him after I feel his rock-hard dick stabbing at my twitching sex from behind.
I’ve got one knee on the floor and one up on the couch. My gaping hole is wide and about to come. I can feel it.
Something about being vulnerable and feeling nothing but his strong hands on me, his stronger cock about to fill me, makes me feel savage.
I’ve never felt safer in my whole life as right now, the moment I know I’ll become a real woman.
“Gonna…fill you with our baby…oh, Jasmine…,” Rocco groans, his hands sliding on my hips from our combined sweat. His thick cock slips in and out of me until I push my whole body back, taking him to the hilt in one swift movement.
And I’m done.
I can’t hold back all the pent-up arousal, the feelings, and the impending climax I’ve tried to make last as long as I can.
“Rocco!” I gasp, but his growling smile is lit up as a thick web of lightning lights the room.
A huge mirror opposite us loses the sheet covering it as he tilts his head back, looking poised to howl.
But it’s his pulsing orgasm meeting mine that blocks everything out.
The mirror gives me the perfect view of his body, every muscle tensed and taught. His knuckles are white with the grip he has on my round hips.
His abs slam into my pear-shaped ass from behind.
In a life-changing moment, I experience something I know can never be matched.
He’s the one. My man.
And I know in that moment that I belong to him forever.
Both of us are bound by this and only made stronger every time.
Which I just know is going to be every chance we get if Rocco has his way.
My orgasm is enough to see me speaking in tongues for a good half-minute while Rocco swears in Italian, gasping and grunting, groaning something about family.
And I know he means our family. Not the ones we’re trying to escape from.
His thick length, still rock-hard inside me, has Rocco cocking his brow in challenge once my own quaking climax subsides.
“I’m Italian,” he boasts. “I can go all night….”
I don’t doubt it, but after he proves his point, I figure saving my strength is a better option.
My legs are already jelly, and it’s Rocco who scoops me up again, making sure I’m warm enough from his own heat until he finds me some blankets and gets a conventional fire going in the aging fireplace.
Once he has a blaze going, Rocco crafts a makeshift line out of furniture and some electrical cord, draping our clothes off it to dry them better.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the couch, but Rocco orders me on my back, putting a big pillow under my legs, shifting the blanket so more of my chest is exposed for him to see as well.
“That’s better…I want that baby batter right up inside you, and well…I could literally just gaze at your tits all day.”
Coming from him, it sounds like sweet music, but if anyone else said it?
I dunno, like I said. Rocco’s not a wordsmith, but if he’s using intense turns of phrases, I know it’s because he’s passionate about it.
