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“We’re going to go slowly,dolce,” he murmurs. “And if it hurts too much, you tell me to stop. We don’t have to do it all tonight. We can work up to it.”
I can feel how hard he is, throbbing against my thigh. I don’t know how he would manage to stop, not as aroused as he must be, but I can hear the sincerity in his voice. He means it, and I nod, tilting my chin up to kiss him again.
“I want you,” I whisper softly. “Please—”
Alessio reaches between us, nudging his cock against my entrance. I gasp at the feeling of him pressing against me, thick and swollen, and his fingers spread me open as his hips move forward the slightest bit, pressing the tip of his cock into me.
I cry out, half in surprise at the sensation and half in pain, and he stops instantly, shuddering above me. “Is it too much?” he asks, his voice low and soft, and I shake my head.
“No,” I whisper, pleading. “Please don’t stop. It hurts a little, but—please don’t stop.”
Alessio hesitates, but he leans forward, kissing me again slowly. It’s sweet and intimate, his nose brushing against mine as he deepens the kiss, and I feel his hips nudge forward infinitesimally, pushing himself into me the slightest bit more.
I gasp as I feel the tip sink into me, my hips twitching as my fingers curl into the blanket, my breath coming in soft, quick pants. “Alessio—” I breathe his name against his lips, arching my hips into his, trying to encourage him. I want more, and the pace he’s setting is torturous, as much as I know that it’s for my own benefit.
Inch by inch, he slips into me. It feels strange at first, the burn of my sensitive flesh giving way to a feeling of delicious fullness as he sinks into me that last inch with a groan that seems to come up from his very soul. Alessio goes still as he sinks to the hilt, his hands flexing next to my head where he’s gripping the pillows as he moans.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, his hips twitching against mine. “So wet—you feel so fucking good—”
One hand goes to my hip, stroking there in an almost soothing motion as he shudders above me. “I can’t wait to teach you everything,” he whispers, his voice cracking with lust. “So fucking perfect—”
When he starts to move, his mouth crushed against mine in a deep, searing kiss, I never want him to stop. I wrap my arms around his neck, fingers brushing against the soft hair at the base of his neck as he slides out of me with excruciating slowness and then back in again, the slick, wet sounds filling the room as Alessio devours my mouth.
I love this,I think, the pain fading into the background as I focus on the sensation of being filled by him, the sound of his breathless groans, the pressure of his body against mine. His skin is hot, damp with sweat as he moves against me, and I don’t want it to end. I want to keep doing this forever, to be this close to him every moment, and as I feel his hips jerk and twitch against me as he sinks into me again, I know he’s getting close to the edge.
“I’m not—” Alessio kisses me again, thrusting once more before shuddering and going still. “I’m not going to last much longer—Christ, you’re so fucking tight—” He grinds his hips against me, groaning, and his hand slips between us, his fingers finding my swollen clit. “Can you come for me one more time,dolce?” he murmurs, and I nod, feeling that tight pressure deep in my belly that tells me I’m close again, too.
His fingers stroke expertly over my clit as he thrusts shallowly, his brow creased with concentration as if it’s taking everything in him not to come. Once more, his cock fills me entirely as he thrusts the rest of the way. I throw back my head, a keening moan filling the air as I clench around him, and I hear Alessio curse, his hips jerking against mine before he tears himself free.
“Alessio, I—” I gasp, clenching on nothing as my hips arch up, frustrated at the sudden loss as I see him grab his cock frantically, his hand jerking along the slick length. He lets out a near-pained groan as I see the tip flare, and then his hand clenches the blankets next to me as thick, hot cum splashes over my belly, Alessio’s moans of pleasure filling the air between us as he comes.
I stare at him, confused. “What—”
“You’re not on any kind of birth control,” he murmurs shakily, his hand still stuttering along his cock as he squeezes out the last drops of cum, the sticky fluid splashed over my skin. I feel another throb of pleasure, seeing it painted over me like that—it makes me feel as if he’s marked me as his, like I belong to him. “And we didn’t use a condom.”
His hand drops away from his cock, and he gets up, a little shaky as he walks to the bathroom. I lay there, stunned, unsure how I feel about it. I’d expected him to come inside of me. I know that the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes are just a reaction to so much happening all at once—to all the sensation and pleasure and everything else I’ve felt tonight—but I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.Doesn’t he want to get me pregnant? Isn’t that what husbands always want? Is it me?
I don’t want to ask and ruin the mood. Especially not when Alessio comes out of the bathroom a moment later, a warm, damp washcloth in his hand. Gently, he cleans up the mess on my stomach, stroking the washcloth between my thighs and over my sensitive folds. I let out a soft sigh of pleasure at the feeling of the warmth on my tender flesh, and when he tosses the cloth into the laundry and slips back into bed with me, I immediately turn towards him.
“Come here,bellisima,” he murmurs, tugging the covers of the bed down and pulling me against his chest. “Are you alright?”
I nod, blinking back the tears. I don’t want him to see them—I don’t want him to think I’m sad. I’m not—I feel a tangle of emotions, all of it feeling new and uncertain and a little overwhelming, but none of it is sadness.
I have the urge to tell him I love him, but I bite it back. I want him to say it first—and I want to be sure of it, when I do. “That was amazing,” I whisper instead, burrowing against him as his hand lightly strokes my upper back. “I want to do it again.”
Alessio chuckles. “We will,” he promises. “But right now, you need to sleep, sweetheart.” He rolls over a little, reaching for a glass of water on the bedside table. “Here. Drink this, and then sleep.”
I want to argue—to tell him I’m not tired, to draw out the evening a little longer. But I quickly realize that’s not true. I’mexhausted, the events of the day and everything that happened tonight rushing in like a tidal wave, and it’s hard to believe that my visit to the college was this morning. It feels like so much has happened since then.
My eyes are already closing when Alessio takes the glass of water out of my hand. And before I know it, nestled in the circle of his arms, I’m fast asleep.
Gianna
Iwake up feeling happier than I knew was possible. Alessio is still asleep next to me, the morning sunshine slivered over our bed through the drawn curtains, and just that thought makes me smile.Our bed.
At some point in the night, I rolled onto my side, and Alessio followed me. I can feel him spooned against me, still naked, and I realize he’s hard. I can feel him pressed against my lower back, hot and rigid, his lips brushing against my shoulder, each even breath ruffling my hair. When I squirm back a little against him, unable to help myself, he groans in his sleep, a low sound that makes me flush warm with desire.
Slowly, I turn in his arms to face him, reaching up to brush his hair away from his cheek, stretching out. I can feel the soreness in my muscles and between my legs, but I want him again, and the desire wins out over how tender I feel right now.
