He slipped the berry in his mouth, closing his eyes, groaning. “The sweetest berry I have ever had in my mouth.” He lifted me up like he had before and started to devour me, just as he had with the cream lingering on my skin.
The orgasm he’d given me during the opera…couldn’t even compare to this. I hit a note so high, I thought the glass sparkling on the floor was from a window I’d shattered with my voice.
He was making starving noises, like he was being fed for the first time in his life, and I was grinding against his face, pumping my hips, my hands on his head.
“Oh fuck!” The orgasm that ripped through me felt like it tore something, and nothing but pure warmth poured out of it and set every ache free at once.
All my energy seemed to drain out with it, but he wasn’t through with me. He lifted me from the table and set me on my knees in front of the fireplace on a soft fur rug. He took my hair in his hand and pulled my head back as he slowly eased inside of me.
This time, the noise that slipped from my lips was a hiss, before a soft noise moaned out of me. I wasn’t sure if I could take it for long. What he’d just done to me…I was still so fucking sensitive. The aftereffects of my orgasm lingered, keepingmeopen and vulnerable.
He slammed his hips against me from behind, pulling my hair, and I screamed out, a mixture of immense pleasure with a sharp bite of pain, as he hissed and said, “Fuck!” He growled low in his throat, his hand caressing my ass, before it settled on my hip. “You will take all of me, my wife.”
All of him?
I must have spoken the thought out loud, because he said, “You will. I will be so deep inside of you, you will never be able to fucking hide from me.”
He eased himself all the way in, before he pulled out some and rammed me again. It sent a jolt of pleasure through me before it receded, and then came back again.
I finally got the waves-to-the shore metaphor.
It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and I was just ready for the storm to ravage me, take me under, tear me open again. It felt so good, I started to meet him move for move, both of us making inhuman noises as we fucked like savage animals in front of the firelight.
Our bodies hit, sweat splashed between us, and his balls slapped me from behind.
He roared something in Italian, and I gripped the soft fur of the rug, trying to hold on, but it was no use. My body couldn’t meet his again, because it had surrendered, and I shattered around his cock with a deep cry that burned in my chest. He came right after, squeezing my hip and ass cheek as he lost control with a wild growl.
The real world seemed to rush back in.
The heat from the fire, the crackle of it, the woodsmoke scent of it.
I slowly breathed it in, then released it just as slowly.
Nazzareno placed a soft kiss between my shoulder blades, then picked me up and set me on my side. He took his spot next to me, pulling me close, placing soft kisses all over my face.
I closed my eyes and just let him love all over me.
His lips.
His hands.
Even his legs.
We entwined them, rubbing our feet against each other’s.
Then his kisses became deeper.
His touches more erotic.
And we became tangled.
Me on top of him, my lips, my hands giving his body love.
Then him on top of me, making me feel rooted, but giving me wings to explore.
He spoke to me in soft Italian, telling me things my mind couldn’t understand, but my heart seemed to. Words of romance and honor and love.
Vows he was making to me as his lips spoke directly to all that existed beneath my surface.
