He felt so good that I wanted to cry.
“Lo vengo con il mio corpo,” he said, the words so intense paired with his eyes and the vow that he had spoken to me earlier that a strangled noise came from my throat, straight from the hidden depths of my chest.
“With my body I thee worship,” I repeated the vow he had just spoken to me in Italian again, tasting the promise on my lips as I tasted his mouth.
He had stood up in front of a congregation, in front of God, the source I believed was behind the fire of our love, his voice loud and clear, never wavering, and now, he spoke the vow again for the two of us.
With my body I thee worship.He did, and he always had. His vow promised that he always would. The love behind the words made me feel the truth of it in the marrow of my bones. I had vowed to love, cherish, and, with my body, honor him. I always had. Where he went, my mind, body, heart, and soul longed to follow. If his eyes commanded me to move one way, there I went. If his body demanded something of mine, it yielded. And the amount of trust in him exceeded the limitations of this world.All that I am I give to you.
Releasing me from his stare, the moment my eyes closed, I was brought back to that cold night on Snow, the night he made love to me for the first time. My body had been naïve, only craving the burn that he lit to be extinguished by his touch, but I had found that having only meantmorewanting.
Even back then he took great care with me, to the point of madness, until he showed me what true madness was, the opposite of gentle—but that’s where he had me now. I was on the brink of tearing him to shreds to expose what I craved.
Him.
The deeper parts, the ones that no one but me was allowed to see and feel. His darkness was black, his depths fathomless, yet I could somehow see and find my way deeper intohim.
A familiar feeling existed between us, but somehow new, each coexisting in the same space and time, caught in a ritualistic dance. I had never known love so complete. He filled me so absolutely that I couldn't hide from him. What he gave of himself was what he brought out in me. All. Bare, primal, an animalistic need, but so much more—the complex and the simple that comes with being a shell with a soul. Depending on my needs was what he gave of himself.
A man.
Brando Fausti was a man who knew how to please a woman, how to read her, what she needed and when. Retract. No, he knew how to pleaseme, and he was all mine forever more. This man, this beast, belongedto me.
A strangled cry, almost a moan, came unconsciously from my lips, and I held on to him even tighter.
He used great restraint to keep pace and rhythm; I could feel it in the tension in his shoulders, in the tremble of muscle and rattle of bone, but he went so deep and so hard that he sent a shock of pain through my lower stomach.
He placed his mouth over mine. “Shh,” he murmured. “Shh, I’ll go slower, I’ll be more gentle.” His voice was half strangled.
“I’m yours,” I barely breathed out. My body refused to deny him. All that he gave, I’d take. I’d take and take and take and give and give and give. “Deeper. Please.”
“You’re mine, Scarlett Rose Fausti,” he said, his voice even more suppressed. He took my hand and placed it against his chest. The beat of his heart reflected his restraint, faster and more furious than his strokes, though just as deep. “Mine.”
The sound of his voice, the words, the bare possessiveness behind them, opened me further than he could. It spurred me beyond the limitations of body, where the entire physical world was shunned, all thoughts buthimsnuffed out. There was no doubt that this man was both lightning and thunder in my blood, silencing the rest of the storm with a beautiful hum that made me feel warm and safe.
“Yours,” I said, meeting his hooded eyes. Those eyes could be the life and the death of me.Those damn eyes seized my soul. “Yours,mio marito.”
The words seemed to be a trigger, and though he took his time, he was buried so deep inside of me that I felt him in my soul. One look and he knew it. He read the depths of my feelings, the riddles no one else could understand. Yet he demanded the words from my mouth with his usualtell me. So I did. I had no choice. He commanded and so it went.
“Ancora,” he demanded, close to something like possession. Me. I had possessed him. This beast of a man was driven by his complete opposite, the unsuspecting being who had purposely crossed over his gates and demanded a place in his solitary life.
“You,” I said, barely managing the word. “I feel you in my soul, my husband. No one but you.”
Being with Brando Piero Fausti, slow or rough, always felt like climbing the highest, most perilous mountain, reaching the peak of climax, and then free-falling from an unimaginable height into the clouds.
The moment when the heart stops, a breathless pause, an explosion of colors, when it doesn’t matter if life returns or not, this moment spectacular enough to ride forever, seconds, minutes, hours, who cares or knows, the journey to heaven and back.Themoment of complete surrender.
All I’ve ever wanted. No regrets when I’m with him.
When the time came to surrender, he called my name, an order to fall with him. Together, we did so in completion, in the vows we had made, in the evergreen search for always.
Still connected, he rested his forehead against mine, closing his eyes, his breath washing over my face.
“There are times,” he said, his voice rough, holding on to an unshed layer of emotion, “when I’m inside of you that I question my sanity. I can’t remember if I’ve lost myself to you before, even though I know I have. I’ve always been lost to you, so completely lost, that I have to keep searching deeper to find a sacred part of myself in a part of you that not even you can remember.”
He placed one, two, three chaste kisses on my lips, and then he opened his eyes. His hands moved the hair back from my face and he gazed at me, the intense look almost hard to meet.
“Ciò che ti ho dato è così profondamente nascosto che persino io non posso più toccarlo. Questo è il motivo per cui non posso smettere di toccarti. O volendo te. Neanche per un momento.La mia vita. Mia moglie. Sempre. Il mia.”
