The language breaks apart in his mouth. Italian and English tangle together the way they only tangle when his control is gone.
My grip tightens when his English gives out.
I take him back in my mouth, deep and fast, my hand and my mouth working together. His hand slams against the headboard. His hips drive up, and I let them. His other hand grips my hair, pulling.
I pull off.
"No—" His voice breaks. "Cole, what the fuck—"
"I want you inside me when you come."
"Dio—"
His hands grab my hips and flip me. My back hits the mattress, his mouth on my neck. He bites. Hard. His hand reaches for the nightstand drawer, yanks it open, finds the lube by touch without lifting his mouth from my skin. I hear the cap click. Lube slicks over his fingers. His teeth release my neck, and his mouth drags lower, across my collarbone, while his slicked fingers press between my legs, two of them pushing into me.
I gasp and arch into it.
He adds a third finger and curls them. The ceiling blurs white at the edges.
"You could have just asked," he says against my throat.
"I don't ask."
He pulls his fingers out and reaches for the condom. His hands are steady, precise, controlled. Even now. Even with his Italian cracking through.
"Turn over."
"I want to see your face."
He holds my gaze. He rolls the condom on, slicks himself, positions, and pushes in.
The piercings.
Every time.
Ridge after ridge drags through me. He seats himself fully, the top piercing pressing deep enough to make my back arch off the bed.
"Move," I grit out.
He drives in hard. Draws back slow. Every barbell dragging. I grab his shoulders, nails digging in. He builds a rhythm, deliberate, then faster, the piercings hitting deep on every stroke.
"Harder."
He goes harder. The bed frame hits the wall.
Maya is one room away. The headboard is loud enough to reach her. His breathing will, too. She can hear what I sound like underneath him.
I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him deeper. The angle shifts, the top piercing grinding against the spot that makes me lose language.
"Fuck, right there, don't stop—"
"Sei mio," he says through his teeth.You're mine.
His hips drive. His hands are flat on either side of my head. Tattoos shift under his skin. The headboard hits the wall. Again. Again.
"Sei mio, Cole. Mio."
I reach between us. He knocks my hand away and replaces it with his, stroking me in time with his thrusts.
