“Please,” I whisper again. I want so badly to be ready for him. “I need you. I need to be yours.”
“You are mine,” he says, his voice deliciously low.
I bite my lip, almost delirious with want.
“My good boy.”
“Yes.”
When he finally, mercifully, decides I’m ready, I’m trembling so hard I feel like I might break.
He pushes inside carefully, giving me time to adjust. I feel both open and full in a way I didn’t know was possible.
“I want you to know that this is the first time this means something to me,” he says quietly.
My breath hitches. I nod.
“This means everything,” he adds reverently.
“I love you,” I whisper. “Cuore mio.”
He wipes a tear off my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.
“I trust you, with all of this. With my—with my everything.”
His breath hitches. “Thank you,” he says, his voice rough. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you. Worthy of your trust.”
We stare at each other, ridiculously sappy and romantic.
My body is learning how to share this pleasure with him until it isn’t his or mine, but ours.
I gasp as a wave of bliss hits me.
“Caspian,” I moan. “Don’t stop. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“It’s so good,” I sob, my toes curling. The pressure builds and builds, and I can’t—I can’t let go.
“Please,” I moan.
“Antonio.”
“No,” I cry out.
“Antonio,” he says firmer.
I’m lost in the intensity of his thrusts, in the long, delicious strokes of his hand. “You can let go. You’re safe.”
“Safe with you.”
“Always.”
“I’m so close. I’m going to—oh please.”
“You come so beautifully. Show me.”
“Now?” I cry. I’m almost there.
