Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty Two
Giovanni
She’s a masterpiece against the dark wool of the blanket. Her hair is a wild spill, her lips parted, her chest still heaving. Moonlight catches the sweat on her throat, the sheen on her breasts. I could paint this. I could frame this moment and live inside it.
I undo my button, my zipper, and my cock springs free, hard and aching. I stroke myself once, then twice, my gaze locked on her.
Her eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded and dazed. They find me, and a slow, sleepy smile spreads across her face.
“More?” she whispers, her voice hoarse from screaming into the night sky, across the fields.
"More," I say, and strip my shirt off. "All of it. Everything." I toss it aside, the cool night air raising goosebumps on my arms.
She makes a small sound, a needy, desperate sound, and I know she wants it as much as I do.
I kick my jeans and boxers away, and then I’m over her, my body blanketing hers, my cock pressed against her wet heat. The contact sends a jolt through me, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from burying myself inside her right then and there.
I want to savor this. Savor her.
I kiss her, a deep, claiming kiss that tastes of wine and strawberries and her. She kisses me back with a desperate, hungry need that sets my blood on fire. Her hands are in my hair, on my back, her nails digging into my skin, urging me on.
I break the kiss, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I look down at her, at the raw desire in her eyes, and I know I'm lost.
“Gio,” she whimpers, her hips rocking against me, a silent, desperate plea.
And I can’t wait any longer.
I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock nudging her wet, swollen lips.
“Look at me,” I say, my voice rough with need.
Her eyes, wide and dark, meet mine. She licks her lips, a nervous, sexy habit, and I almost lose it.
I push in, just a little, and she gasps, her body tensing.
But I don't give her time to adjust. Not this time. I want her to feel all of me.
I thrust, burying myself to the hilt in one smooth, powerful stroke.
We both cry out, a mingled sound of pleasure and pain that echoes in the quiet night.
I still for a moment, letting her adjust to the feel of me, big and thick and deep inside her. I can feel her walls fluttering around me, a delicious, involuntary clench that makes my balls ache.
She’s so tight. So wet. So fucking perfect.
I start to move, a slow, deep rhythm that steals the air from my lungs. Each stroke is a deliberate, measured thing, a claiming, a promise. Her hips rise to meet mine, telling me she’s with me, that she wants this just as much as I do.
My controlled thrusts don't last for long. The need, the desire that's been simmering all day, finally boils over. I pick up the pace, my movements becoming harder, faster, more frantic.
The sounds of our bodies slapping together, of her whimpers and my groans, of the wind in the leaves, fill the night. We are the only two people in the world, lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and passion.
"Your cunt feels so good," I whisper darkly in her ear. "So tight and wet for me. So perfect."
Her only response is a choked sob, her back arching, her hands clawing at my shoulders.
I need to be closer. I need to be deeper.
I hook my arms under her knees, pushing her legs up, opening her wider, and the new angle lets me sink impossibly deeper.
She screams, her body convulsing as a third orgasm rips through her, a violent, intense wave of pleasure that leaves her shaking and sobbing.
Her walls clench around me, a hot, vise-like grip that nearly pushes me over the edge.
But I'm not done. It's not enough. Not yet. I need more. I need all of it. Everything.
I pull out, and she whimpers at the loss.
"Turn over," I command. "On your knees."
She blinks up at me, her eyes dazed, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
I don't wait for her to comply. I flip her over, pulling her hips up, positioning her on her knees. Her ass is perfect, round and firm, and I can't resist giving it a hard smack.
She jumps, a cry of surprise and pleasure escaping her lips.
Bianca lifts up onto her elbows, her head hanging, spilling her hair all over the blanket.
That won't do.
I kneel behind her and press my palm firmly between her shoulders until her cheek is pressed to the blanket. Her gasp is muffled by the wool.
"Stay," I snap.
I see her pussy clench with the order. She trembles under my palm, but she obeys.
Her ass is high in the air, the glistening wet folds of her pussy peeking at me from between her thighs. A delicious, tempting invitation. She’s open. Vulnerable. Mine.
I take myself in hand, my cock throbbing, and run the head through her wetness, coating myself in her.
"Gio," she whimpers, her hips wriggling, trying to take me in.
She’s still panting from the last orgasm. Her legs are shaking. Her back is slick with sweat.
And she's a mess.
A beautiful, perfect, fucked-out mess.
She looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes dark with need, her lips swollen from my kisses. She’s a goddamn vision. A goddess.
"Please," she begs, her voice hoarse. "I need you. Now."
That's all the encouragement I need. I surge forward, burying myself inside her in one hard thrust. She cries out, her body jolting forward.
I still for a moment, my hands on her hips, my gaze locked on the sight of my cock disappearing into her tight, wet heat.
Then I start to move. And I don't hold back.
I set a punishing rhythm, my hips snapping against hers, my cock driving into her, deep and hard. The sounds of our bodies slapping together, of her whimpers and my groans, fill the night.
I lean over her, my chest pressed against her back, my lips brushing against her ear.
"Is this what you wanted?" I growl, my breath hot against her skin. "To be fucked like this, out in the open, where anyone could see?"
She whimpers, her hands fisting in the blanket.
"To be used," I continue, my voice a low, dangerous rumble. "To be taken."
"Yes," she sobs. "God, yes."
I reach around and find her clit, hard and swollen. I rub it in tight, fast circles, and she screams, her body convulsing as another orgasm rips through her.
This one is different. Wilder. More intense. Her pussy clamps down on me, a hot, vise-like grip that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through me.
This position, this angle, it's too much. She feels even tighter, even wetter, and I can feel every ridge, every flutter of her walls as I piston in and out of her.
I lose all control, all pretense of finesse.
I need more. I need to break her completely. Leave her a mindless, fucked mess. Make her so thoroughly mine, she'll never think of another man again.
Her back is slick with sweat, and it makes it hard to keep my grip. I want her hair in my fist.
I grab a fistful of her hair, her wild, beautiful hair, and pull her head back, arching her neck. She cries out, a sound of pain and pleasure, her body tensing.
"Look at me," I command, my voice rough.
She forces her eyes open, and they lock with mine. They're dazed, unfocused, but they're on me. And that's all that matters.
"Who do you belong to?" I growl, my hips pounding against hers.
"You," she gasps, her body trembling uncontrollably. "I belong to you."
And that's it.
My control shatters. The world narrows to this one, single point of contact, to the hot, tight grip of her pussy, to the desperate, needy sounds she's making.
My release hits me like a freight train, a hot, blinding wave of pleasure that steals the air from my lungs. I roar her name, my body arching, my cock pulsing, emptying myself inside her as she comes on my cock, squeezing me tight.
It’s a tidal wave, an earthquake, a force of nature that rips through me, leaving me breathless, boneless, and completely and utterly spent.
I collapse on top of her, my body pinning hers to the blanket, my heart hammering against my back. She's still trembling, her body a fine, delicate instrument that I've played to its absolute limit.
For a long moment, we lie there, a tangled, sweaty mess, our bodies still joined. The only sounds are our ragged breaths, the pounding of our hearts, and the wind in the leaves.
Then, slowly, carefully, I pull out of her. She whimpers at the loss, her body still trembling.
I roll onto my side, pulling her with me, spooning her from behind. I pull the wool blanket over us, a warm, cozy cocoon against the cool night air.
She sighs, a contented, sleepy sound, and wiggles back against me, her soft curves fitting perfectly against my hard planes.
I tuck her head under my chin, her hair tickling my chest. My arm wraps around her waist, holding her close, my hand resting possessively on her hip.
We don't speak. There's nothing to say. The world is quiet, the stars are out, and she is here, in my arms.
This is peace. This is contentment. This is everything I've been searching for, and I never even knew it.
I press a soft kiss to her temple, and she sighs again, her body relaxing against mine, her breathing deepening as she drifts off to sleep.
I lie awake, watching the stars, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing. And for the first time in a long, long time, I feel a sense of rightness. A sense of coming home.
The thought is terrifying. Exhilarating.
I pull her closer, burying my face in her hair, breathing in her sweet, clean scent.