"No talking about the trial tonight," he murmured against my mouth. "No strategizing. No worrying. Just us."
"Just us," I agreed.
We made it to the bedroom. Barely. Sandro pushed me down onto the bed and covered my body with his. Kissed me until I couldn't think about anything except the way he felt. The way he tasted. The way he made everything else fade into irrelevance.
"I need you," I said when he finally let me breathe. "Right now. No foreplay. Just you inside me."
"Emilio—"
"Please. I need to feel you. Need to know this is real." I grabbed his shirt. "Everything else is uncertain. But this—us—this is real. Right?"
"So fucking real." He kissed me hard. "But I'm not rushing this. You need to feel me? I'm going to make sure you feel every inch. Slowly. Until you can't think about anything except how good I make you feel."
He stripped me methodically. Kissing each piece of skin he revealed. By the time I was naked, I was trembling with need. He pushed my legs apart and settled between them. Still fully dressed. The contrast of his suit against my bare skin was obscene and perfect.
"Look at you," he murmured. "So desperate for me. So perfect."
"Sandro, please—"
"Shh. I've got you." He finally started undressing himself. Slow. Deliberate. Making me watch as he revealed his body piece by piece.
When he was finally naked, he grabbed the lube from the nightstand and slicked his fingers. "Spread your legs wider. Let me see you."
I obeyed. Felt exposed and vulnerable and absolutely electrified.
His first finger pushed inside and I gasped. "That's it. Take it. You're so good at this. So perfect for me."
He worked me open with practiced efficiency. Two fingers. Three. Stretching me. Finding angles that made me curse and beg. He knew exactly how to touch me now. Exactly what I needed.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes. God, yes. Please—"
He rolled on a condom and positioned himself. Pushed in slowly. So slowly I felt every inch. Every bit of stretch. Every moment of perfect fullness.
"Fuck," he groaned when he was fully seated. "You feel incredible. Always so tight. Always so perfect."
"Move," I demanded. "I need you to move."
He did. Started with slow, deep thrusts that hit every nerve. Made me see stars. Made me forget my own name.
"This," he said against my ear. "This is real. This is us. Everything else is just noise."
He was right. This was real. The way he filled me. The way he moved. The way he made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
"Harder," I begged. "I need more."
He gave me more. Changed the angle. Thrust harder. Faster. Found my prostate and hit it with every stroke.
"Touch yourself," he ordered. "I want to feel you come around me."
I wrapped my hand around my cock. Stroked in rhythm with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Perfect. Exactly what I needed.
"That's it. So good. Come for me, Emilio. Let me feel it."
My orgasm hit like a freight train. White-hot pleasure that wiped out every thought. I came across my stomach and chest while my ass clenched around him. Heard him curse. Felt him thrust harder.
"Fuck—Emilio—"
