His pants are gone next, discarded without ceremony, and then he kneels between my thighs, running a reverent hand up my bare thigh, pushing my panties aside as he lowers his mouth to me.
The first touch of his tongue is soft. A kiss more than a lick. I arch into it, my hands gripping his hair, my hips rising to meet the rhythm he builds—unhurried, relentless, so gentle it hurts.
“Enzo,” I gasp, already trembling.
He groans like he’s starving. “I love the way you say my name.”
The praise, the pressure—it undoes me. My body is already spiraling, heart racing, skin slick with heat. But he keeps it tender, coaxing my orgasm with whispered filth and reverent fingers. Hedoesn’t stop until I’m shaking, until his name is a desperate chant on my lips.
He kisses up my body like a man who can’t bear space between us. By the time he reaches my mouth, I taste myself on his tongue and let him take everything he wants.
When he finally sinks inside me, it’s slow, inch by inch, and he groans like the relief of it wrecks him.
“Look at me,” he whispers, his forehead pressed to mine. “Let me see those eyes while I make love to my wife.”
I wrap around him tighter, breath catching as he rocks deeper. “I love when you say that.”
“You are mine,” he says. “I love you so much, mia dolcezza. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.”
Emotion burns behind my eyes, thick and consuming. “I love you too, Enzo. I think I’ve been falling since the first night.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, brushing a hand across my cheek.
“You have no idea what those words do to me.” His voice is hoarse, reverent. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna ruin me.”
And then he moves—deep thrusts that make my toes curl and my heart ache.
“It’s almost midnight,” he says, voice gravel rough. “I wanted you to feel loved when your birthday hit. Wanted you to come with my name in your mouth, my cock buried deep inside you.”
I cry out, overwhelmed with how good he feels, how cherished I feel.
“Happy birthday, Zara,” he says, grinding in deep and staying there.
“Best fucking birthday of my life,” I whisper, tears slipping down my cheeks.
He thrusts once more—deep and sure—before he roars, burying himself fully and holding still as he spills inside me.
“Take it,” he rasps, his voice wrecked against my ear. “Every fucking drop, Angel.”
I cling to him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, gasping through the aftershocks. But he doesn’t move far.
When he finally pulls out, he leaves a void I want filled again. I can feel his cum already beginning to leave me.
Enzo growls, catching it with his fingers. “Not a chance,” he mutters. “That stays inside you.”
And before I can breathe, he’s pushing two fingers back into me—slick with his cum, working it deep with unrelenting strokes.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, hips already shifting, the overstimulation setting every nerve on fire.
“That’s it,” he says, watching me with fevered eyes. “Let me fuck my seed deeper. Let your King give you everything you’ve ever needed.”
I moan, helpless against the way he touches me, worships me, works me over like it’s his only purpose.
“Come for me again,” he commands, voice full of heat and reverence. “Claim my fingers like you want to keep every drop.”
It takes only seconds. My body clamps down around him, and I come again with his name on my lips, trembling and aching and full of him.
He curls over me after, fingers still deep, pressing a kiss to my temple.
