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Her hand reached for my cock, caressing it softly in her fist at first, lightly pulling my foreskin back and spreading the clear pre-cum gathered there, then she started to pump my cock in firm strokes.
My hands went back to our preferred space at her hips, groaning my pleasure at her touch, and as much as I enjoyed the sight, I closed my eyes in delight.
I tried to control my breathing by taking deep breaths and tightening my hold on her, but the pleasure coursing through me had me give up that particular endeavor quickly. I was too wound up after pleasing her and wanted nothing more than to sink into her warmth.
She lifted herself on her toes, leaned towards me with one hand on my shoulder for support, and positioned her wet cunt over the head of my cock. I opened my eyes to watch my cock disappear into her and felt the warm wetness of her enveloping me.
When I had filled her, I wrapped my arms around her in a loving embrace, kissing her neck, hoping to convey how grateful I was despite the heated situation we were in, as I let her get used to my cock inside her.
She spent a few seconds with closed eyes, just holding me, before she looked up from my neck and kissed my lips slowly, giving the silent signal to start moving. My hand slid down to her ass, helping her along when she moved her hips against mine.
Our equally slow, open-mouthed kiss had me pushing my limits, and as my hands tightened on her, I secured both of my feet firmly on the floor and stood up with her securely in my arms. She wound her legs around my waist and locked her ankles behind me.
Gently, I lifted her and moved towards the kitchen table, careful not to let her slip from my grasp. Once we reached our destination, I seated her at the edge of the table. With one swift movement, I used my arm to clear the book she had been reading and the now-cold mug of coffee, causing them to crash against the floor.
As soon as I had more leverage with a little help from the table, I set at a much faster pace than the slow grinding we had enjoyed on the chair.
Her hands were still in my hair, clutching handfuls, and her legs wrapped around me. I kept one hand on her backside, and the other went hiking her leg up higher on my waist, keeping it there while I kissed her deeply and started pounding into her, my hips moving fast.
I needed this. I needed her.
Both of us let our moans flow freely, and the sounds of slick skin meeting skin in hard slaps were loud in the kitchen.
I broke the kiss, gently pushing her down on her back as I continued to fuck her hard and fast, chasing both of our climaxes. My hand moved, finding her clit again and starting to work it over with my fingertips.
Judging by her loud moans, shrieks of pleasure, and the way her cunt was gripping me tightly, she was close to her second orgasm. Her hands had left my hair and were clawing down my back, making me hiss in pleasure as I climaxed as deep inside of her as I could.
I didn’t know how much time had passed when I started getting my breathing under control, but my face was still buried in her neck, and my cock was still buried in her cunt, though it had begun to go flaccid, and could feel the after spasms of her climax.
My warped emotions came back, and I kept my face hidden from her when I felt the first tear gathered at the corner of my eye. Taking a few deep breaths, I moved the emotions back down where I’d sort through them at a later time. Not now. Not here.
Her legs, still locked at the ankles, had loosened our grip on my waist, and her fingers were moving up and down my back in feather-light strokes. I let myself breathe through it and enjoy her presence.
Eventually, I had gotten myself under control and lifted my head from her neck to give her lips a slow, chaste kiss before looking her in the eyes. A soft look adorned her face, satisfaction evident as a lazy smile curled her lips.
I couldn’t help but smile back at her.
“Thank you,” I appreciated her softly.
Chapter 27
Griselda
Icouldn'thelpbutworry about Emilio. Even though Emilio held no affection toward him, the man was still his father—a complex connection that was difficult to untangle. It reminded me of my situation, the yearning to learn more about a father I never really knew.
One morning, with the sun gently illuminating our home, I woke up early, driven by the desire to bring some comfort into Emilio's world. The thought of making him breakfast appealed to me.
Humming softly, I settled on a quick, light breakfast—scrambled eggs sprinkled with cheese and a side of toast. I moved around the kitchen, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on my skin.
As I plated the food, I heard familiar footsteps approaching. Emilio entered the room, looking weary.
"Good morning," I greeted, trying to infuse warmth into my voice.
He managed a small smile, though his mind seemed far away. I could only imagine the burden of his thoughts. This was a difficult time for him.
"I made you some breakfast," I offered gently, nodding toward the table.
He nodded appreciatively and sat down. The aroma of the food filled the air as I placed the plate in front of him. I watched as he picked at the food, his thoughts still elsewhere.
