My hands tremble as I fumble with his belt. I shove his zipper down, then his boxer briefs. His hard length springs free. I cradle him in my palm, my thumb brushing over the bead of precum at the tip, spreading the slickness.
Without him having to ask, I lift my hips and guide the thick head of his cock to my entrance. I sink down. Slowly.
The way he fills me is so immense it borders on pain, a fullness that makes me gasp and shudder at once. When he is buried fully, deep inside me, my head falls back against the wall. I stare at him... lips parted, lungs seizing.
I start to move, rolling my hips, adjusting to him, but his fingers dig into my ass hard, stopping me.
“I need a minute,” he says, his voice hoarse.
With a savage jerk of his head, he catches the other strap of my top in his teeth and yanks it aside. The fabric gives way. He clamps his mouth down on my exposed nipple, sucking and nipping until every draw of his mouth feels like I’m burning from the inside out.
I try to move again, my clit rubbing against his pelvis desperate for release, but he halts my hips with one hand, holding me in place.
“Alexander!” I protest, my voice cracking.
He smiles, and sinks his teeth into my lower lip. “What do you want, tesoro?” he asks into my mouth, releasing me just enough to answer.
“You,” I whisper. “I need you to fuck me until I can’t think of anything but your name.”
His eyes blaze. He kisses me hard, swallowing my cry, then drives into me with punishing, relentless thrusts. I feel the sting of his teeth on my neck, the heat of his mouth claiming every inch of my skin as he moves from my throat to my breasts.
I tug his hair, lifting his face to mine, desperate to kiss him—but his gaze stops me. There’s such raw emotion in those amber eyes that my breath catches as he drives more intensely into me.
My body tightens, convulsing around him, and I come, calling his name like a prayer. He follows moments later, groaning into my skin as he buries himself to the hilt, his forehead resting heavily against my shoulder as he fills me.
I run my hands through his sweat-slick hair, both of us breathing harshly.
He lifts his head, arching an eyebrow at my ruined top hanging in tatters. “I hope that wasn’t your favorite.”
I press a kiss to his swollen lips. “It wasn’t. But the memory of you tearing it off? That I’ll keep forever.”
He shakes his head, a grin breaking across his face.“Cazzo, ti amo sempre di più, ogni giorno.”[LXXVIII]
“I love you just as much,” I whisper back. “More, and more.”
Then, gripping my ass, he carries me to the master bedroom. I keep my legs tight around his waist, feeling him softening inside me.
He sets me down on the cold marble vanity, finally withdrawing—leaving me feeling empty—and starts filling the deep soaking tub. Within seconds, the room grows thick with curling steam. I peel off what’s left of my top and drop it to the floor.
I perch on the edge of the tub, watching as he peels off his shirt. He steps out of his shoes and discards his trousers, my eyes following the way his muscles flex as he strips.
“Come,” he says, holding out his hand.
The water is almost painfully hot; I sigh as I sink in. He steps in after me, the water displacing around us, and settles behind me. He pulls me back until my spine rests flush on his broad chest, his legs bracketing mine.
“Relax, amore,” he murmurs.
He lathers a sponge with body wash—cedar, sandalwood, and amber; his scent—and begins to wash me. His hands, which only moments ago bruised my skin with their grip, now move with gentleness. He reaches around me to wash my front, sliding the sponge over my shoulders, down my arms, and across my ribs.
He halts at a faint red mark on my hip, pressing his lips to the back of my shoulder.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he whispers into my skin.
“As good as I’ll ever be in your arms,” I breathe, letting my head fall back onto his shoulder. “I liked it. I liked how much you wanted me.”
He murmurs his approval and resumes washing my chest. My nipples harden under his soapy touch. As his arms encircleme, working the sponge over my skin, I reach out and trace the prominent veins on his wet forearms with my fingertips.
When he moves his hands to my hair, massaging my scalp, I close my eyes. There is something disarming about this… to be cared for so completely after being taken so roughly.
