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I could feel him everywhere, the pain, the soreness though was nothing to the immense swell of connection, the wrenching intimacy which seemed to echo around the room in our shared breaths, as the passion flared.
He waited, for me to adjust to his size, then pulled out, thrust back—slowly, carefully but with a ruthless purpose—until he had established a relentless rhythm which made the pleasure build again. But it felt wilder, and rawer and somehow more elemental this time. And so much more terrifying.
I gripped his shoulders, my eyes stinging, my throat raw, my heart thundering against my ribs, as the pleasure climbed—higher and higher—building from my core, searing and unstoppable.
I sobbed, I begged, not sure I could bear any more.
But he knew I could as he pushed me further still.
‘You must come for me,’ he said. Part seduction, part need, all demand.
The pleasure shattered, sweeping me over the crest at last. But as I tumbled freely into the abyss and heard him shout out behind me, raw emotion burst in my chest, and my stunned heart felt as if it had shattered too.
Renzo
What the hell just happened?
I tried to force my mind to engage, as I pulled out of her body, her tight flesh releasing me with difficulty. The sense of something fundamental shifting inside me was terrifying, as I stared at her flushed face. She stared back at me, her eyes dazed with afterglow, but still so sure. And unafraid.
I had never had an orgasm like it. So intense, but also so raw, so basic. The effort to hold back, to take her slowly, to be gentle had been unbearable. Was that why I had been able to feel her every breath, sense every shift in her emotions?
I rolled away from her, flopped onto my back, feeling hollowed out. And far too aware of each staggered breath she took beside me. Had she felt it too? That connection? Which I had no desire to acknowledge, because it made me feel so exposed.
I sat up, dragged myself out of the bed, even though I wanted desperately to tug her into my arms, to ensure she was okay. This too was a completely new experience—the desire to indulge an emotional connection, after the sex was done.
As I headed into the en suite bathroom, the need pooled again in my groin.
Not done?Seriously?How could I want her again so soon? This was madness.
I tugged off the condom, flushed it down the toilet in too much of a panic to do my usual forensic check to ensure there would be no consequences. To think I had very nearly taken her without protection... Another scary thought.
I stood over the sink. Braced my arms on the vanity. And stared at my face in the mirror.
Get ahold of yourself, Camaro.
I was still the same man, still the same playboy bastard who used women then discarded them. Great sex, even stupendous sex would never change that, I told myself staunchly.
After washing myself, I wrapped a towel around my hips and strolled back into the bedroom. But when I saw her scooping her dress off the floor, something vicious twisted in my gut.
‘Che cosa?’I murmured, shocked. Then I remembered she didn’t speak Italian. ‘What are you doing?’ I translated, even though a part of me had realised in that split second it would be better if I let her go now. Got her out of my life, before I broke any more of my golden rules.
She glanced over her shoulder, as she held the gown to her breasts, covering herself from my gaze... Another brutal shaft ofsomethingassailed me.
Was it anger, frustration, regret? Who the hell knew.
‘I should go,’ she said in a hoarse whisper, her expression echoing the panic I had felt moments before.
It was the last thing I had expected her to say. Shouldn’t she be making demands now? I had just taken her virginity. But somehow, because she wasn’t asking for more, wasn’t making an issue of it, I felt oddly deflated, and also annoyed.
Who was using whom here?
‘Really? Why must you?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow, determined not to reveal the fierce unknowable feeling building under my breastbone. ‘Because that makes me feel a bit cheap,’ I added, only half joking.
She blinked at me, clearly not sure whether or not I was teasing her. The fact that I was not sure myself increased my irritation...and the inexplicable desire to make her stay—for the rest of the night.
That I didn’t want her to leave yet was another first. But I would just have to examine that urge too at a later date.
‘I... I thought you’d probably want me to go now,’ she said, her artless expression somehow heartbreaking. Normally she would not have been wrong... Why did that make me feel like a bastard, when it never had before?
