Undressed him as though his skin was rugged enough to cut me, but I was determined to get to the true heart of who he was.
Mine.
“Annie,” he whispered, his lips caressing mine as he explored my body. “This is enough for tonight.”
I pushed against his chest, demanding to look into his eyes. Then I sneezed—explosively, three times. He blessed me, then kept kissing me. All I could do was sigh as he explored my entire body with his mouth.
This would be an exercise in self-control for me as well. I could almost not take it. And when he reached my thighs, mybody had already turned into hot candle wax, being formed at his touch. I parted them as his face came between my legs.
Somehow, in a bed, naked with him…my response to him was even more powerful. It felt as if I had been turned inside out, and all of my nerves were exposed.
His warm breath fanned over me. “Grotta,” he said, and he flicked his tongue on the most sensitive spot of my body.
I trembled, reaching for the sheets—something to hold on to. Or I would be lost. I desperately needed to be, but at the same time, it was frightening to be so lostinsideofhim.
He had called my vaginagrotta,which translated into cave. He was whispering against me, speaking of the treasures that were hidden inside of me, a place only he could find. They had been hidden there for him only. His words, the possessiveness in them, were working my body more than his magical tongue.
“Mariano.” I squeezed the sheets, moaning so loud, it echoed inside of my head. I was riding his face, my hips adding to what he was already doing to me. Sending me over again. I was still sensitive from when I orgasmed on the couch.
I was fighting the urge to let go, spin out of control, because I desperately wanted how good this felt to last. I wanted to increase my stamina, so I could be with him this way all day long, all night long, for the rest of our lives.
“I cannot…”
“Come to me, my woman.” Then he bit me.
Bitme.
My entire body went off like an earthquake, and I shook around him, my hips still working, his tongue still devouring. He did not quit until I made a breathless noise—so sensitive, a breath against me almost burned. Then he made his way over my body, his chest directly across from mine, gazing into my eyes.
“I don’t know what to fucking do with this,” he breathed out.
“What is between us?” I whispered, my nails lightly grazing his skin. I needed him this close. I needed him this close forever.
Even closer.
Almost to the point that my grazing nails would turn into claws, shredding his skin, so I could rush through his bloodstream and inhabit the entirety of who he was.
Even longer.
Forever would not do.
He nodded.
“It is the same for me,” I whispered, pulling him closer, as if whatever existed between us was speaking to me—directing my hand, so I would know what to do with it. How to satisfy it. How to take care of it.
He understood the language of it as well.
The pull.
The force of it.
The power.
We both surrendered to it.
He settled behind me, pulling me in so close to his body that, from above, we would be one body—an extension of each other. He kissed my neck, my cheeks, and then released me and leaned over me. He took the matches from the bedside table and lit my religious candle. I did this before bed every night. I did not particularly enjoy being in total darkness, especially during a storm.
Whenever my eyes opened when I could not sleep, my mind and body restless, they always found a spark of life. A flickering tiny fire highlighting the details of the glass filled with hardened wax, frankincense and myrrh the scent of this one, usually a prayer on the back that I would whisper to myself in my sleep.
