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Because I think he’ll give me that back, a piece of himself.
“Look at me,Tesoro. If I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t want any other man, you look at me. You give me everything. Every. Fucking. Thing.”
He takes over, thrusting up in me, pulling me down, invading every last part of me. He fucks me like it’s his own personal war, and I’m the prize.
Nicolo sits up. “Wrap your legs, babe.”
I do, and he uses the change to push in deep, to rub my clit against his body, and then he pushes a finger into my ass, and suddenly, the game changes. I’m full. So full. He moves that finger in tandem with his thrusts, and the head of his cock touches and rubs places inside me that I don’t think have ever been touched except by him. He rocks into me over and over. Hard and slow, deliberate and showing no mercy, and there’s nothing I can do but hold on as he bends his head to suck at my nipple, his teeth biting and mouth suckling hard.
It pierces me that attention. Right to my clit, and I come apart, waves and waves of violent, unexpected pleasure crashing down. I’m convulsing around him, on him.
He releases my breast and throws back his head, shouting, “Fuck.”
Inside me, he’s pulsing, and he doesn’t stop the thrusts. Picking up speed through my orgasm, and then he rolls us so my back is against the floor. He’s removed his finger from my ass to hammer into me. Every time he hits all the way home, I slide a little on the floor, and he doesn’t stop.
The waves start up again. “Oh, my God, Nicolo, I’m going to come again!”
My voice is from a million miles away, and all I can do is hold on to him as his cock comes almost out of me. My pussy lips clinging to him, an emptiness filling me, only to be shattered by his thrust as he bottoms out. He fills me to a bursting point, stretching, filling, perfect.
He does this, over and over until I’m on that edge, so high, I’m crying, scratching at him. Trying to get him back in me each and every time.
He slams into me again and again, and I don’t know if I can take it even as I beg for more.
“I’m gonna fucking paint your insides, Avah.”
With that, he slams so deep into me I scream as I fly apart, and as I’m coming, he does too. The hot spurts and the pulse of his cock set off another orgasm until I think I’m going to black out.
But finally, when we’re done, he rolls on his back again and holds me on him.
Arms around me.
Mouth on my hairline.
Nicolo just holds me.
Right then, nothing else matters.
Nothing at all.
* * *
Tiny shivers keep running down my spine as we shower and dress, and I’m glad he brought a change of clothes for us both.
Nicolo is outside on his phone, and as I go past the bed in the wide-open cabin, my gaze keeps skittering to it.
It’s so large, and it looks inviting. I want nothing more than to strip down and dive under the covers. But this isn’t some great love affair. This is what it is. Amazing sex—at least I’m sure that’s what it is, because no one, when they’ve touched me or kissed me, has ever even come close to how the stroke of Nicolo’s fingers on my cheek, or the graze of his mouth against mine feels.
Or even when his tiger eyes hit mine.
All of that is pleasure of its own.
And it is elevated beyond anyone or anything.
I don’t know what to do with it.
My phone is sitting on the low carved wood coffee table, and I pick it up. Almost five p.m. There’s food in the open kitchen. A rustic loaf, butter, and when I open the fridge there are only things he’s added now, along with some beer and condiments I’m sure were already in there.
Family home. One he’s clearly renovated. I have so many questions that bubble up, and I look around for something to drink, my nerves suddenly jumping.
