Chapter 19 #2
His cock is beautiful, just like the man himself. It is large and thick, matching the powerful lines of his body—veined and heavy, the head round and flushed, the tip curving slightly upward.
I clench my thighs instinctively, hit by a jolt of nerves and anticipation. I wonder how it will feel. If it will be too much.
Mesmerized, I watch as he tears the foil with his fingers and rolls the latex down his length, his eyes never leaving mine.
When he crawls back onto the bed, he leans over me and kisses me deeply. I tangle my hands in his hair, starving for him.
“I need to be inside you,” he groans, his voice rough against my lips.
I smile at his urgency, but then he pulls back, searching my eyes, looking for something.
I pull him back down, my hands linking behind his neck.
“Ti desidero,” [LXII]I whisper, opening my legs wider in a clear invitation.
Alexander settles between my thighs. He lines up the heavy head of his cock and begins to glide inside me. The stretch borders on pain, even with how wet I am and how careful he’s being.
When I look down between us, I realize with a jolt he isn’t fully in. I swallow hard and dig my nails into his shoulders.
“I’ll go slow,” he murmurs. His eyes are locked on the precise spot where his body joins mine, captivated by the sight.
He keeps his promise. He penetrates me carefully, inch by inch. He withdraws, then pushes back in with a gentle rocking motion, allowing me time to adjust to his size. He continues this coaxing rhythm until he is finally buried impossibly deep inside me.
We gasp in unison, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. Our breathing is ragged, tangled together.
“Questa è la sensazione più intensa della mia vita.”
Our eyes lock. He braces his weight on one elbow, his other hand coming up to cup my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. Looking right into my soul, he whispers the translation. “This is the most intense feeling of my life.”
“Alexander...” I murmur, unable to piece together my scattered thoughts.
My body moves of its own accord, my spine arching to meet him. Alexander begins to rock against me, sliding out and gliding back in, his eyes never leaving mine.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull his face down, desperate to kiss him, demanding everything he has.
I scream into his mouth when he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt with a brutal thrust that shifts the pace. His thrusts become harder, deeper. Relentless.
Alexander nips at my ear before lowering his head to capture my nipple in his mouth, sucking in a hard, punishing rhythm that matches his hips.
I toss my head, writhing beneath him, unable to withstand the sensory overload. The room begins to spin. I open my mouth, gasping for air, feeling my pussy tighten. Hot, so incredibly hot.
When he changes the angle, a loud scream tears from my throat as he hits a spot so deep, so sensitive, that my vision whites out.
“That’s it, bella. Let me hear you. Show me how much you like it.”
His voice. God, his voice alone is almost enough to make me come.
I clamp down hard, and the movement tears a loud, strained groan from his throat. His mouth stays pressed against my ear, sending shivers through me, making me squeeze him even tighter inside.
“You’re so tight,” he grinds out, his voice rough with need. “Pure perfection. Made for me.”
He hoists my leg high over his shoulder, opening me to him. The angle shifts. When he begins to thrust at a maddening pace, the pleasure is blinding.
“Alexander... I—oh... I...”
Language fails me. I dig my nails into the hard muscle of his biceps, hanging on as the world tilts on its axis. My hands are frantic—clutching his hair, scraping down his damp back, gripping the sheets to keep from falling off the edge as the sensations threaten to drown me.
His body is slick with sweat, every muscle flexing hard beneath my palms. I can feel his heart hammering, matching the frantic rhythm of mine. His lips graze my ear, a string of Italian murmurs hot against my skin—words I can’t catch, but the intent is clear: he wants all of me.
“Come, tesoro,” he demands. “Come for me.”
He thrusts harder, faster, and the tension snaps. I convulse around him, shattering with the force of it, screaming his name. I barely hear my own voice over the rush of blood in my ears, the white-hot pulse of pleasure that obliterates everything else.
He doesn’t slow down. He grinds into me, riding the aftershocks of my climax with short, savage thrusts, hammering into me until his own control shatters completely.
A harsh sound tears from his throat, his jaw clenched tight enough to snap. He buries his face in the crook of my neck as he slams into me one last time. He pulses deep, pouring himself into me with a terrifying intensity that shakes us both. His arms lock around me like a vise.
Neither of us dares to move.
My body still trembles, every nerve ending humming, and Alexander’s weight is the only thing grounding me. He presses gentle kisses to my cheek, my jaw, and my lips, stroking my damp hair and whispering soft Italian words against my skin.
When he finally withdraws, it’s with a low groan of protest, as if he hates the separation as much as I do.
He leaves the bed only for a moment to discard the condom, then returns, pulling me back against his chest, cradling me.
I feel wrecked and cherished all at once, every muscle weightless and slack.
We lie tangled together, my head on his shoulder, his hand tracing lazy circles along my spine.
The room is hot, the air heavy with the scent of sex and skin, and I have never felt more right. I want to say something. Anything. But I’m afraid to break whatever fragile bond is holding us in this moment.
So I only move closer, tucking myself into the curve of his neck.
He kisses my forehead, my eyelids, then, softly, the tip of my nose.
When he shifts us onto our sides, he looks at me and I hold my breath.
“Sei incredibile, tesoro,” he murmurs, his voice thick with tenderness and awe. “You’re amazing. Beyond anything I ever dared to want.”
I close my eyes, my fingers curling into the hard muscle of his biceps. He smooths my tangled hair back with gentle strokes.
I feel the truth of his words, in the way he holds me, touches me, and in the reverence in his eyes when he looks down at me.
“Talk to me, Cecilia.”
The raw break in his voice forces my confession.
“I’m afraid. I’ve never...” I hesitate, gathering my thoughts. “It’s never been like this. And that scares me. From the first moment you touched me, there was something—a connection I couldn’t explain. When you kissed me... it felt like the ground disappeared beneath my feet.”
“But what just happened?” I whisper. “That terrifies me the most.”
I look at him, really look at him.
“You said it was like you always knew my body. My taste.” My breath stutters. “For me... it was the same. It was like my body already knew yours. The way it responded... how it recognized you...”
I shake my head, lost in it all.
“I don’t understand it. And that is what scares me.”
Alexander never looks away. He leans in until his forehead rests against mine. “You’re not alone in this,” he murmurs. “I’m afraid too. Not for the same reasons, maybe... but the fear is there.”
He pulls back, holding my gaze.
“And it’s that fear,” he murmurs, “that will make me cherish every single moment I have with you.”
Then he exhales, the tension easing in his shoulders as he runs his thumb over my cheek. “No pressure or demands. We don’t have to figure everything out now. But will you make a deal with me?”
I nod, unable to speak.
“Honesty above all else,” he continues softly. “Talk to me. Tell me how you feel... what you want... what you need. And I’ll do the same. No hiding from me. And no running away.”
He doesn’t have to explain. I know exactly what he means.
My throat tightens, stinging with regret. “I promise,” I whisper. “No more running.”
Alexander smiles and leans in to kiss me. When he pulls back, he’s still looking at me with that same tenderness... that same intensity.
A thought surfaces through the haze. “You keep calling me tesoro,” I murmur. “I never thought to ask what it really means.”
He traces his thumb over my lower lip, his gaze dipping there before returning to my eyes.
“It’s usually translated as sweetheart,” he says gently. “Or darling.”
His hand slides up to cup my jaw. “But what it literally means... is treasure. Because that is exactly what you are to me, Cecilia. Something rare and precious.”
I try to answer him, to say anything at all, but the words won’t come. I am utterly undone by the way he looks at me. Not like I’m simply desired... but like I’m seen. Chosen.
Alexander seems to understand that he’s taken my breath away. He doesn’t push or rush me; he simply asks how I’m feeling.
I whisper the truth: I’ve never felt better.
We trade a few words after that—murmured confessions, hushed laughter—his hand never leaving my side, mine tracing lines that feel like home, even though I’m only just learning them.
And when the words finally run out... His mouth finds mine again. I pull him closer as the kiss deepens, changing into an intense tangle of tongues and heated breath.
My hands roam his sculpted body, never getting tired of feeling the way he reacts to my touch.
Alexander matches my hunger, his hands gripping my waist to pull me flush against him.
Then, with a swift, fluid motion, he slides an arm beneath me, tightening his grip around me.
He shifts his weight, kneeling on the mattress and sinking back onto his heels, guiding me down with him until I am straddling his lap, my thighs resting over his, locking us together.
He keeps one arm clamped around my waist to hold me in place while he grabs a condom from the mattress and tears it open with his teeth.
I can’t look away as he rolls it down his length, his movements quick. I meet his gaze, and his eyes burn into mine, making my heart race.