Chapter 28 #2
A broken whimper tears from my throat, and my hips jerk involuntarily as heat sparks through me like a live wire. When his teeth graze the metal and tug, it’s like he yanked a string tied directly to my clit. My core clenches, seizing hard.
“Romero—God!” I gasp breathlessly, my back arching off the bed, vision flashing white.
He chuckles against my skin—a dark, wicked sound that vibrates against my fevered flesh as he releases the ring and continues his descent. He kisses my hip bones, the inside of my thighs, deliberately avoiding my core where I’m drenched and throbbing for him.
Please, please, please. My legs quake with tension as I wait.
Then finally, he looks up, holding my gaze as he uses his thumbs to part my slick folds, my wet lips slipping in his grip for one hot moment.
“Beautiful,” he rasps, voice hoarse, reverent. And then—
Oh. Oh. My. God.
The first drag of his tongue is slow, almost teasing—a warm lick that makes my toes curl into the sheets.
Precision and hunger guide each stroke, circling my clit but never staying long enough to push me over.
Then his mouth seals on me in a kiss that mirrors the one on my lips, a groan rumbling out like I’m feeding some starving part of him.
I’m going to die. This is how I die.
But at last, his tongue rolls around my clit and sucks it into the warm heat of his mouth, holding it there while he gently sinks first one finger, then two, inside my tight walls, the pressure pure bliss.
“Fuck—Romero!” I screech, bucking against him, my back arching clear off the bed as white-hot pleasure detonates through me.
His grip on my thighs tightens, spreading me wider, anchoring me to the bed while he devours me through my climax. Every swipe and swirl of his tongue is like gasoline on fire, pushing me faster over the edge.
He sucks and licks my clit as his fingers pump in and out of me, drawing out my orgasm for long, breathless heartbeats.
When I finally float back down from my high, I blink at him in disbelief, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest with how hard and fast it’s beating.
Romero meets my gaze, mouth glistening, eyes dark. “You’re mine now,” he rasps, pressing one last lingering kiss to my inner thigh before pulling back. I whimper at the loss, already missing his warmth, but then he’s kneeling at the edge of the bed…
My breath catches, my stomach quivering, when he reaches for the hem of his damp shirt.
He peels it off in one smooth motion, and—holy hell—the hard ridges of his torso come into view. His body screams raw power, every cut of muscle sharp under the moonlight, his skin slick and golden.
My mouth waters as I take in the tight crests of his abs, the tempting dark ink wrapping around his left arm.
The lines curl around his bicep and spill down to his elbow, intricate patterns almost identical to the framed flower in his bedroom back home: black and white lilies of the valley, star-shaped petals of a flower I don’t recognize, tulips, and right in the middle, an iris so deep a blue it almost looks violet. Stunning artwork.
I didn’t know he had tattoos, but seeing it now… Damn, it fits him perfectly.
He shifts impatiently, and my gaze drops lower. Oh God. How is that going to…?
His cock juts past his abdomen, thick and heavy between his thighs.
Veined, flushed, the wide tip an angry purple, leaking precum that slicks his stomach in slow, taunting beads.
My core clenches so hard the room spins around me.
A tremor of nerves flickers, but it’s swallowed almost instantly by something hotter—an almost reckless need to close the distance.
I reach out without thinking, my fingers aching to wrap around him, to stroke him, to feel his weight in my palm. To taste him.
But before I can touch, Romero leans over me again, the tension in his body coiled tight like a predator holding back. His jaw clenches, his breath coming in hard pants.
“Not yet, amore,” he murmurs, voice low and strained. “Let me take care of you first.”
He kisses me, slower this time, sweeter. Then his hand slips between my thighs. “Open for me,” he commands, and I obey instantly, heart pounding as I spread my legs as wide as they’ll go, all too aware of the sticky wetness still clinging from my orgasm.
He pats my inner thigh gently, almost affectionately, before using two fingers to toy with my clit. Soft, teasing circles at first. Light pressure building into a rhythm that makes my toes curl and my belly coil with heat all over again.
“You’re so wet, so ready. But still so tight.” His brows furrow as he watches himself work me open. I gasp, hips rising for more as he rubs his thumb over my clit at the same time he bends his fingers inside me.
Then, too soon, his hand is gone.
Before I can protest, he’s already shifting forward, lining himself up with my core. His damp tip brushes against my entrance—hot and thick and terrifyingly big.
Oh. Oh. This is really happening. I’m really doing this.
But seriously, how is that going to fit?
“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs soothingly, accurately reading my fear. “It’ll only hurt a little.”
A little, I repeat to myself. I can handle a little.
I gulp, nodding, eyes fixed on his penis.
“Look at me.” His voice is rough, commanding. I do as he says, and green flames burn into me. “I’ll go slow,” he promises, then pushes forward.
My breath hitches on a strangled sound. The stretch is sharp, tears sting my eyes, but I don’t look away from him. I can’t. His face contorts with pleasure as he sinks deeper, and the sight consumes me more than the pain piercing through me.
Suddenly, he stops, holding perfectly still, his hands gripping my hips like he’s fighting for control.
“You’re… you’re in,” I whisper, blinking hard.
“Almost,” he pants, sweat beading on his temple. “Just a little more, amore.” Then, slowly, carefully, he slides deeper. Inch by inch. Filling me. Claiming me.
I cry out, head digging back into the mattress when he finally bottoms out, pelvis flush against mine, his cock pulsing so deep inside me I swear I feel him at the back of my throat.
He drops his forehead to mine, his body shaking with restraint. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he rasps. “Just breathe, bellezza. Let me love you.” His words tug on my heartstrings, and my lips part, emotions swirling wildly.
And then—he starts to move.
It hurt at first.
A dull, stretching pressure that makes my breath hitch and my nails dig into his arms. My thighs tremble around his hips, and somehow, every heartbeat between us feels like it’s synchronized with my own.
Romero stops immediately, like he can sense my pain. He stays buried deep, forehead pressed to mine, his hands warm on my hips, fingers digging so hard into my flesh I know I’ll have bruises there in the morning.
“Is it too much?” he whispers, voice tight, frayed at the edges. “Tell me now, and I’ll stop.”
“No,” I breathe, even as a tear slides down my temple. “Don’t stop. I want… I want you.”
His eyes search mine, something feral yet heartbreakingly sweet flickering in their depths. Then he kisses me. Slow. Lingering. As if to ease the sting, to soothe me. Only after that does he move again.
Shallow thrusts at first, barely more than a grind, but it lights something inside me. My nerve endings sing as the stretch transforms into sweet friction. The pain dissolves into heat, into hunger. My breath quickens, my legs open wider.
Yesss. This. This is… incredible.
He feels the shift in me—he has to, because his lips curve into a wicked smile, dark promises dancing in his eyes. “That’s it, baby,” he coos, rocking his hips again. “You feel it now, don’t you?”
I nod, unable to speak past the tightness in my throat, my hands clutching his shoulders. He groans, brushing my hair back as he begins to move in earnest. Long, deep thrusts that fill me completely.
His cock drags against every raw, sensitive inch inside me, and each retreat, each plunge back in, makes my walls cling tighter, craving more.
The burn fades as the now familiar pressure builds again, my body slowly catching fire. “Please,” I gasp, arching into him. “Romero, don’t stop.”
A rough groan rumbles from his chest, one hand slipping between us to rub my clit in slow, perfect circles while he thrusts deeper, harder.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he growls. “So sweet. So perfect. So mine.”
His. I’m his.
His name falls from my lips in a chant as he picks up the pace, driving into me with a rhythm that matches the crashing waves outside. His abs clench, muscles flexing with every thrust, that dark tattoo on his arm rippling with the force of his movements.
I’m gone. Thrashing against the mattress, possessed, undone, every drag of his cock sending my pleasure soaring, making me feel even more like his.
“That’s it, amore. You’re getting there. I want you to come for me,” he whispers hotly against my lips, his thumb twisting on my clit. “I want to feel you fall apart around me.”
And I do.
I scream his name to the moonlit sky as my body seizes, blinding white heat crashing through me, my walls fluttering wildly around him. My lips move, incoherent words slipping out, my nails raking down his back as immense pleasure tears through me, wave after wave.
Romero’s curse rips free, no longer restrained, and he slams into me once more—deep and rough, fighting through my tightening core.
Then he comes with a ragged groan, spilling himself into me, and oh holy shit, it’s so much, so alive, rolling and pulsing through me in ways I didn’t know I could feel.
The warmth spreads, and my thoughts scatter, my mind losing itself in the sheer intensity of him filling me for the very first time.
He collapses over me, burying his face in my neck, both of us gasping, clinging, trembling in the aftermath.
Outside, the wind howls through the forest, the waves crashing with a furious roar. But here, wrapped in Romero’s arms, I feel treasured and loved.
A dangerous emotion that I’m helpless to resist.