Chapter 9 Valentina
VALENTINA
“Valentina…” Giovanni groans when my fingertips skim the sensitive skin at the base of his manly yet maintained balls. “You need to slow down or I’ll drench your throat with my cum.”
My pussy becomes wetter at the thought of his salty, masculine taste swamping my tongue.
Wait, what? When have I ever been excited to swallow? Giving head is an awkward experience I usually avoid at all costs, and I’ve never volunteered for them to finish down my throat.
It must be Giovanni. He’s outrageously attractive and has the cock to back up his confidence. It’s addictive being craved so much you have a man willing to throw more than caution to the wind.
Or perhaps it’s the extra hormones running rampant through my body?
Some pamphlets warned about an increase in sexual desire due to heightened estrogen levels.
I assumed I’d be one of the poor statistics that had a decrease in libido, since the only form of excitement I’ve had in the past twelve months was being flattened against an SUV by a dark and brooding stranger.
The reminder of how Giovanni saved me has me sucking his dick with even more eagerness. I drag my lips down the shaft until I trigger my gag reflex, and then I flatten my tongue against the vein feeding his magnificent manhood.
My cheeks burn from my envious sucks, but I refuse to give in. I’m dying to taste him. It’s as potent as my craving for his mouth to be reacquainted with my pussy, but I won’t stop until I’ve made things even.
When I get the perfect combination of speed and suction, Giovanni’s breaths quicken and his hands seek something to grip. One sinks into my hair, fisting it firm enough for the roots to sting, and the other grips the side of the sofa.
Knowing I have a man as confident and gorgeous as Giovanni at my mercy is thrilling. Excitement skates up my spine when the sturdiness of my sucks doubles the throbs of his cock. I draw him to the back of my throat while squeezing his balls with my spare hand.
His grunts are lyrical gold. Every one he releases turns me on more. Even if I don’t come, I won’t leave his penthouse unsatisfied. That’s how enthralling his moans are. I’m on the cusp of climax, and I’m seemingly not the only one aware of that.
Before I can protest, Giovanni plucks me off his cock, lays me over the expensive rug cushioning my knees only seconds ago, and then buries his head between my legs.
“Hmm… I smell so good in you.”
“Fuck… No, I…” Entire sentences are above me, and so is Giovanni. He eats me with a starvation that will never wane. A hungry, impulsive feast that doesn’t solely remove the reins from my hands but also shreds them to pieces.
His name rumbles from my throat as an orgasm scorches through me. Stars blister as a revitalizing zap shudders my wary bones. My climax is draining and long but rejuvenating. I’m floating on a cloud that’s sailing too high for anything bad to invade, and it makes me feel safe.
Do I deserve this level of protection? Giovanni lied to me. He made out that he didn’t know who I was referencing while trying to unearth his connection with Valeria, but instead of bringing it up again, I’m allowing my libido to dictate our exchange.
That’s wrong.
“Who… was… the woman?” I ask between pants, my body uncooperative with the interrogation my brain wants to undertake. I know Valeria’s name, but I can’t mention it since I’d have to disclose why I was at the clinic with her.
Giovanni sucks my clit into his mouth, upending my campaign. I can’t speak through the sparks firing through my body. Can’t move. I also can’t breathe.
I’ve never felt so good.
But this isn’t me. My father came close to killing my mother because I was proof of his extramarital activities, and I am determined not to make the mistakes my mother made.
“Giovanni…”
When I rake my fingers through his hair, more to pull him off me than hold his mouth hostage to my pussy, he clamps my hands to my sides, then goes to town.
He eats with an expertness that announces his skills at giving head, and in seconds, he takes control of my body.
It’s a pity for him my brain is controlled by a different entity than my body.
“Who is she?” My shout reverberates throughout the penthouse and drowns out Giovanni’s noisy licks as he laps up the remnants of the orgasm I tried to stave off and failed.
I shake through the aftermath of a climax that makes me more angry than happy before I un-suction Giovanni from my pussy with a cruel tug on his dark locks.
He’s furious that I’m denying him. And his sneer is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Who is she?” I ask again, with less shouting this time.
I slap his hands away when he grips my thighs and drags me closer. It does me no good. Faster than I can snap my fingers, he lifts me onto his lap and notches the crown of his cock at my opening.
Although I hate to admit this, even with my anger at a pinnacle, my breasts grow heavy with desire at how easily he tosses me around.
His ease gives the impression that I’m weightless.
“Gio—”
“Valeria is a friend,” he interrupts, his tone a harsh bark. “A business associate.”
“A friend?”
He hums in agreement, and the vibrations of his deep timbre dart straight to my core.
Stupidly, I examine his eyes for any hints of dishonesty. I hardly know the man stealing my astuteness with a fantastic cock. I found out his name only hours ago, so how can I possibly know if he’s lying just by looking at him?
Insanity. That is the only logical excuse.
My inner muscles clamp around his thick cock when he enters me like we’re not in the process of an imperative conversation. I’m drenched front to back, but it still burns to take a man as well-endowed as him.
“Giovanni…” This call of his name is more a silent demand for comfort than answers. I’m stretched wide and painfully riding the crest of pleasure and pain.
“I’ve got you, dolcezza. All you have to do is let me in.”
I nod, naively believing his statement means more than unclenching my vaginal walls.
“Good girl,” he praises when I swivel my hips, loosening their grip.
He sinks in deeper, veering this wreck more toward pleasure than pain.
With one hand, he guides me on and off his cock, while the other stimulates my clit until nothing but the chase is on my mind. I’m sensitive all over, both mentally and physically, but content. Like that makes any sense.
As my moans turn into cries, Giovanni’s speed picks up.
He plunges into me, harder and deeper with every thrust. I claw cruelly at his back, certain I’ll leave a mark.
His brutal pounding gives me no choice but to hold on for the wild ride, but part of me—clearly the negative side—wants to leave a trace of my existence.
That way, if I can’t read him as well as my hazy head believes, the signs a woman looks for when they believe their man is straying will be as obvious as the sun hanging in the sky.
Giovanni doesn’t seem bothered by the prospect of being marked by me. With his rhythm unaffected, he shimmers his shoulders, discarding his ruined dress shirt with an effortless shrug. Then he places my hands back on his shoulders before fucking me to oblivion.
Now the choice is completely out of my hands. If I don’t sink both my nails and teeth into him, I’ll scream so loud that my mother and aunt will hear. That’s how well Giovanni fucks.
“Oh… God…” I murmur through the tang of blood filtering across my taste buds. I bit him firmly enough to bleed, but I’m swamped with too much ownership to care.
I want him to wear my marks and know where I touched him for days.
Imagining him discovering my dental impression days after our romp denotes a bomb low in my stomach. An orgasm shatters inside me, but it doesn’t weaken Giovanni’s pace in the slightest. He continues to toy with my clit while fucking me deep and hard.
He drives into me on repeat until I’m overwhelmed again. I don’t conceal his brilliance this time around. I shout it for the world to hear, certain if I die from the exhaustion of too many orgasms, I want it marked on my headstone.
“Yes! God, yes!” I shout when the tension becomes unbearable for Giovanni as well. My insides clench around his fat cock as spurts of his release double the wetness between my legs.
I did that.
Me.
And the knowledge is powerful.
With his cock still sheathed inside me, Giovanni leans his back against the sofa he was seated on hours ago, pulls me into his chest, and then buries his nose in my dark locks.
That safe feeling I was experiencing earlier returns more powerful than ever, and euphoria pumps into me as I relish his closeness.
It’s comforting in his arms. Right.
It feels like home, and before my foggy head can warn my heart to slow down, the steady rhythm of his heart and the gentle lulls of his chest drift me into a peaceful slumber.