She wasn’t wearing a bra.
I leaned down and took a rosy nipple between my lips, sucking with a mix of firmness and tenderness as Valentina exhaled a deep, helpless sigh and arched up, chasing my mouth.
“Enrico…” she whispered, her voice shaking as her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging me closer with urgent need.
I tasted her skin as my mouth traveled down her abdomen, leaving a warm, wet trail.
My hands moved to her waistband, pulling her pants down along with her underwear in one swift motion and sending both to the floor—leaving my woman completely exposed, vulnerable, magnificent.
“You’re perfect, Valentina,” I murmured against her skin as I kissed the inside of her thighs, teasing, taking my time, savoring every tremor I drew out of her.
When my mouth finally found her, she moaned loudly, clutching the sheets as she surrendered to the pleasure I was determined to give her.
I tasted her slowly, exploring her with my tongue, feeling every shiver, every pulse as she writhed beneath me.
“My God… Enrico, please,” Valentina begged, breathless and raw, her trembling legs framing my head, pulling me tighter against her heat.
I lifted my face, meeting her eyes—clouded with need—then stripped out of my clothes quickly, my erection aching, rigid, throbbing with hunger.
Valentina watched me with hungry eyes as I moved back over her, fitting our bodies together perfectly.
“I want to make you come slowly,” I said, and she looped her arms around my neck. “Just so I can hear you saying you love me with a shaking voice.”
“Do whatever you want to me, Enrico,” she whispered. “Just don’t stop telling me you love me while you do it.”
I kissed her, letting her taste herself on my mouth—then I pushed into her slowly, filling her completely, feeling every hot, tight inch of her wrap around me and accept me.
Valentina’s deep moan fused with mine, echoing through the room as we began to move together in a slow, sensual rhythm—perfectly synchronized, fitting like pieces that had waited too long to finally lock into place.
“Every time you moan my name,” I whispered against her lips, “I understand exactly where I belong in this world.”
“I waited so long to feel this again,” she admitted, barely a whisper. “Your mouth… your dirty voice in my ear telling me I’m everything to you.”
Gradually, our pace turned deeper, harder, more intense.
My hands gripped her hips, guiding every thrust with purpose, giving her every ounce of pleasure she deserved.
“I love you, Valentina,” I groaned into her ear, our breaths mixing into rough, broken sounds. “More than I can say.”
“I love you too, Enrico,” she answered, clinging to me, her nails marking my back as our bodies moved faster—more urgent, more desperate.
I felt her hit her peak, her body arching hard against mine, her walls squeezing me tight, dragging my own release out of me.
“There’s nothing more beautiful,” I confessed, shaking, “than watching you fall apart beneath me and still tell me you love me between one moan and the next—”
And then I came inside her, my hoarse groan filling the room as my body collapsed over hers, both of us fighting for breath.
For long seconds, we stayed like that—still joined, hearts pounding in the same frantic rhythm.
I lifted my face, kissed her softly, and traced her sweat-slick skin with gentle fingers.
In that moment there was no doubt. No past. No bitterness.
There was only us—two people who had finally found their way back to each other, reaching for the happiness we’d both been starving for.
SIXTY-SEVEN
VALENTINA FERRARA
