"So sweet," he murmurs, and I notice his cock is still hard and ready.
As I float back down, Giovanni rolls over me, covering me with his body, his heat, his scent. His cock is a hard, insistent pressure against my thigh.
He kisses me again, a slow, drugging kiss that leaves my head spinning, my body aching for more.
"That was beautiful," he whispers against my lips. "You are beautiful."
He moves down my body, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I’m writhing beneath him, my hands fisted in the sheets, my body aching, needing, wanting.
He stops, his breath ghosting over my nipple. I gasp, my back arching, a silent plea. He takes pity on me, his mouth closing over my breast, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing. He sucks, hard, a sharp, intense pleasure that sends a jolt straight to my core.
He gives my other breast the same attention, leaving me a breathless, writhing mess. I'm lost in a haze of desire, my mind a blank slate, my body a vessel for pleasure.
His lips find mine again, a hungry, demanding kiss that I return with a desperate need of my own.
"Gio," I plead, my hands fisting in his hair, my body arching against him. "Please."
He growls in pleasure.
"I like it when you call me that," he murmurs, as he kisses a path along my jaw, my throat. "Do it again." He rolls his hips, pressing the hard length of him into me. I moan. I'm so empty. So empty and so full at the same time. "Bianca. Do it."
"Gio," I plead, my hips lifting, seeking him.
He shifts, moving between my legs. I feel the tip of him, hot and hard, pressing against my entrance. My breath hitches, my bodytensing with anticipation as my cunt juices begin to spill from my pussy.
I think of my dream. Of the empty ache of waking up just as he was about to fuck me. Of the desperate, unsatisfied need that had driven me to my own hands. And the aching, unfulfilled desire for him that’s lived inside me since we met.
But this isn't a dream.
He pushes in, a slow, deliberate stretch that’s a sweet, aching burn. I'm so wet, so ready, he's halfway in before he meets any resistance.
He stops, his breath catching.
“Okay?” he asks, his lips against my temple.
I nod, my hands moving to his back, my nails digging into his shoulders as a fresh wave of heat washes over me.
"Yes," I gasp.
He continues pushing in, filling me, stretching me, completing me. He’s bigger than I imagined, more than I thought I could take, but I’m so slick, so ready, my body welcoming the invasion.
And when he’s fully inside me, when he’s buried to the hilt, I feel a sense of rightness, of coming home, that’s so intense it brings tears to my eyes.
He starts to move, a slow, steady rhythm that’s a torture of pleasure. He pulls out only a little and pushes back in, letting me get used to his size.
He’s watching my face, his eyes dark, intense, seeing everything. He sees the pleasure, the desperation, the raw, unbridled need.
My mind goes blank. There’s nothing but the feel of him inside me, the thrust of his hips, the heat of his body, the scent of his skin.
He pulls out, almost all the way, then pushes back in, a deep, powerful thrust that sends a shockwave of pleasure through me.
"More," I gasp, my hips lifting to meet his.
He answers my plea by increasing the pace, the speed, the force, each thrust a new, mind-blowing sensation. I'm lost, adrift in a sea of pleasure, my body a vessel for his desire, my mind a blank slate.
He shifts, changing the angle, and he hits that spot deep inside my pussy, the one he found with his fingers downstairs, the one that sends a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure through me.
I cry out, my body arching, my inner muscles clenching around him.
