Epilogue #3
"Please, Mario."
"Tell me why," he demands, his pace not slowing.
"I-I want to see your face when you come," I moan.
"Ah, amore della mia vita," he groans, slowing. "How can I deny such a request?"
His hand goes to the back of my head, and he pulls off the tie.
Sunlight floods my vision, and I blink, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
And when they do, the sight before me steals my breath.
I can't move, still trapped beneath him.
Still impaled on his cock.
But he is glorious.
His hair is messy, his gaze is intense and focused and fierce.
The sunlight outlines his face, highlighting the stubble on his jaw, the curl of his lips, the possessive gleam in his eyes.
"You're beautiful," I breathe.
"I think you have that the wrong way around, amore," he murmurs, his hand sliding into my hair and fisting there.
I shake my head. "No. Not at all."
"No," I argue. "You are."
His lips find mine again, and the kiss is softer, gentler, full of something I'm afraid to name.
He begins to move again, and the feeling is incredible.
"Come," he says, his mouth by my ear. "I want to feel your sweet cunt milking me."
"Not yet," I moan.
"Oh, have the tables turned?" he asks. "You don't want to come now?"
"I want to come," I say. "But I want to look at you a little longer. Just like this."
His eyes soften with love.
"You have the rest of your life to look at me, mia bella ragazza," he tells me.
My heart squeezes.
"And you have the rest of your life to take me however you want," I tell him. "But right now, I just want this. The sun. The garden. You."
"You have me, amore," he says, his eyes never leaving mine. "Always."
"Yes," I whisper.
He smiles and leans down, kissing me.
And we stay like that, the sun shining down on us, our bodies joined, our gazes locked.
It is perfect.
"I can feel you starting to tighten again," he whispers, his lips brushing mine.
"I'm so close," I admit, and his smile grows.
"What will it take, mia amore?"
"Keep kissing me," I whisper, lifting my head to catch his lips again.
He kisses me, his tongue twining with mine, his thrusts picking up speed and intensity.
His hand tightens in my hair.
I moan, and his free hand slips between us.
His thumb finds the sensitive bud between my legs, and I gasp.
He strokes the bundle of nerves, his movements firm and practiced.
"I can feel you tightening," he whispers. "You are going to come on my cock."
"Mario," I pant.
"Come, amore," he orders, his voice hard. "Now."
His hips snap forward, and his cock drives right into the perfect spot.
His thumb works my clit, and it's exactly what I needed.
"Yes, God, yes."
Pleasure crashes through me, and my entire body stiffens painfully.
My muscles spasm and contract with a wave of pleasure so intense it brings tears to my eyes.
The sunlight makes my world go bright and hazy.
I'm lost in the feeling, in him.
His body.
His eyes.
His cock, still working me.
His thumb, circling my clit as he prolongs the pleasure.
I writhe and moan, unable to stop.
"I want you to come again," he tells me.
"Please," I beg.
He rolls his hips, and the motion has him rubbing right where I need him.
"That's it, amore. Again."
He doesn't slow or let up, and the pressure builds quickly.
"Yes, fuck, yes," he growls. "Squeeze me with your sweet pussy. Give it to me."
"Mario, I..."
And my second orgasm comes just as powerfully as the first, leaving me limp and spent.
I fall back against the blanket, and Mario leans over me, bracing himself.
His pace gets rougher and rougher until his hips stutter, and he drives himself deep.
His cock pulses, and I feel the warm rush of his cum filling me.
"Fuck," he curses, his face contorting in pleasure.
His hips snap forward, then back, driving himself deeper.
The sensation of his cock pumping into me is indescribable.
It's the most erotic thing I've ever felt, and I moan, lifting my hips to meet his.
"Cazzo, mia amore," he whispers, and his thrusts slow, eventually coming to a stop.
He drops his forehead to mine, his body relaxing, and we lie there together, basking in the sunlight and the afterglow.
"I love you," he murmurs.
"I love you," I whisper.
We lay for a moment, and I start squirming, making him groan.
"I want to hold you," I complain, wiggling, my arms now stiff, wrapped together behind my back.
"In a moment, amore. My knees are a bit weak."
I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.
He lifts his head and raises his eyebrow at me.
"Do not get a big head," he warns.
"It's your fault," I tease. "You shower me with compliments, then fuck me in the sun, and expect me not to be smug about it?"
"Smug is not attractive, mia bella ragazza," he scolds.
"I disagree. You look pretty smug right now."
"Perhaps," he concedes.
"Can I hold you now?"
He rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch.
"I suppose," he says, reaching under me to release my hands.
It takes a moment of wriggling, but he finally pulls the belt away, and my hands are free.
I sigh and wrap them around his shoulders, pulling him down on top of me.
"Careful," he says, bracing himself so as not to crush me.
"It's fine," I say, tugging at him. "Just...hold me."
"As you wish," he says, and he sinks onto me.
His weight presses me into the blanket, and I sigh, nuzzling against his neck.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
"The best birthday ever."
"You will never know how much it means to me that you think so."
"I'm serious," I say.
"As am I," he replies, pushing himself up on his elbows.
"Thank you," I say, stroking his face. "For the dress that's on the floor of the dining room. For the delicious dinner. And the garden. And the sunshine."
He smiles and shakes his head.
"Thank you," I continue, "for knowing me so well. For listening. For understanding."
"You do not have to thank me, amore."