Chapter Twenty-Two Guinevere #2
One of my favorite feelings was the wedge of his cock impaled balls deep in my mouth and throat. The triumph of taking every inch soared through me straight to my groin so that I squirmed and rubbed my thighs together, desperate for friction.
Sensing my rising desperation, he tore his shirt off and leaned back, bringing my hand to the abdominals cut starkly into his skin. I groaned when he cupped my head in one hand to raise it higher and used the other to slap my legs apart so he could dip fingers into my slick folds.
“You look so pretty with your lips stretched tight around my cock,” he told me in growling Italian. “Like you were made to suck me. Made to take my cock.”
He groaned when I sucked him on the backstroke, flicking my tongue over his slit to gather the cream spilling out. His fingers curled inside my pussy, and the heel of his hand ground down on my clit so that my legs started to shake.
“Yes, little fawn, come with my cock down your throat,” he ordered.
As in everything with Raffa, I had no choice but to obey.
My cries were muffled by his shaft, and I gagged once, so his cock slid even deeper, and he moaned at the way my mouth gripped tight around his driving dick.
My orgasm was sharp and short, an exclamation point at the end of my lust that only made it stronger.
Raffa pulled out of my mouth a moment later, squeezing a big hand around the root of his drool-slicked, reddened cock to curb his climax.
“Take off your panties and get on your hands and knees,” he instructed as he stood. “Wait for me like that and do not touch yourself.”
I let loose a slight whimper at that order but did as he asked while he went to the doors, peered inside to make sure everyone was in bed, and disappeared inside.
When he returned, I was in position, my figa and culo framed high in the air between my spread legs.
“ Così carina ,” he praised as he dropped to his knees on the blankets behind me, and a glass bottle landed next to me. Olive oil.
I turned my head to watch as Raffa lifted the bottle, uncapped it, and poured some into his palms. He rubbed them together to warm the liquid and then smoothed his rough-slick hands over the globes of my ass until they gleamed with a high shine under the starlight.
“ Che bella ,” he murmured, his voice almost punch drunk with lust, taking in the sight of his oiled hands on me.
I gasped, head dropping between my shoulders as the head of his cock kissed my entrance and then slid smoothly into my pussy, the way eased by his thick fingers so I could take him all in one stroke.
I thrust my hips back into his, grinding down, but he only moved in deep, slow circles that shuddered desire through my hips in shocky waves.
He was too preoccupied with massaging his oiled thumbs over my crinkled hole, pressing deeper and deeper on each pass until one sank inside. I jumped at the unfamiliar burn, but his other hand held me steady at my hip and hushed me with soft, nonsensical praise in Italian.
“Be good for me,” he intoned, and I realized I was panting, working my hips in useless palpitations because sensation was bombarding my body.
I could feel it in the curling ends of my toes. At the roots of my hair and the base of my teeth. It was everywhere, around me and inside me.
Raffa, Raffa, Raffa in my mouth like the only word I knew in any language.
He replaced his thumb with a finger and then slowly worked another one inside the rim, stretching me enough to make me hiss before I sank into the burn.
“I know my girl loves pleasure,” he said as he pumped those fingers into my ass, holding me still and open with his other palm, and I knew without looking that his eyes were fixed on the way he split me open on his cock in one hole and his fingers in the other. “But she loves some pain too.”
I couldn’t disagree. Mostly because my brain had short-circuited and my mouth had stopped working except to form the shape of his name and the occasional plea.
“Do you want my cock here, mia dolce cerbiatta ?” he cooed to me, a third finger pressing, massaging at the tight clutch of my hole until it gave way and closed tight around the added digit.
I cried out, head snapping up as my back bowed and unexpected pleasure knifed through my pussy and ass, the edge meeting in the middle and driving deeper so that I shook and shook and shook with climax.
My teeth snapped together with the force, and all I could see behind my wrenched-closed lids was the night sky imprinted in my brain, a galaxy of pinprick color.
“So good,” he crooned as I spiraled back down into his grip like a feather. “I am going to fuck you here and own this piece of you. No matter where you go from here, your first moments of pleasure will always be mine.”
I opened my mouth in lazy protest, to tell him the only place I wanted to go was to bed in his room—our room—for the rest of forever.
But then his fingers were leaving me, except one hooked into my slightly stretched hole as if to hold it open for the press of his searing cock. I held every muscle so still, I seemed to vibrate as he gradually stuffed my tight hole full with his steely length.
I cried out softly, head limp on my neck as his balls pressed to my soaking pussy and he was finally deep inside me. The heat and burn of him in my most forbidden place felt like a brand of ownership on the inside of my skin. It made me feel his in a way I never had before.
His hands cupped the flare of my ribs and traced them to the small of my waist and up over my ass to hold my hips.
“I am going to fuck you hard, now, mia stella cadente ,” he warned me, voice threadbare with the same longing I felt coiled around my hips and soul. “Going to own you now and forever.”
“Yes,” I gasped, tipping my hips even higher so he notched deeper and made me shiver. “Own me forever.”
The way he fucked me then was as savage as he promised. Pulling himself slow and smooth to the hottest, tightest point of my entrance in a way that made saliva pool behind my teeth and then snapping his hips hard to drill back into my depths.
Over and over.
Harder and harder.
The hands on my oiled hips slipped under the intensity and became claws, fingertips stamping oval bruises and nails giving me half-moon scratches that I would wear as if on a gemstone Renaissance belt.
I locked my elbows so I could drive back against his thrust, falling deeper and deeper into the debauched act, lost to the all-consuming feel of the deep, earthy pleasure.
And when he reached down with his cleaner hand to thrust two fingers into my steadily leaking, swollen cunt, I threw my head back and howled my orgasm to the moon.
Seconds later, he came, too, pulling out carefully before fisting his cock until he rained hot seed over both my holes.
And when he came, he shouted my name to the same moon as in a pagan union, a marriage under the stars that felt more eternal than if we had signed any kind of legal document and binding code.
I was his.
Completely, unutterably, until my dying day.
After, when he cleaned me up as best he could with his discarded designer shirt, ruining it without a thought, he collected me in his arms and carried me through the dark, quiet house to his palatial bedroom.
He got into bed without allowing me to the leave the circle of his arms and then settled me curled up on his torso like a kitten.
I was completely exhausted, but I clung to wakefulness, waiting to hear those three little words I was now so certain he would ask me.
Will you stay? Will you stay? Will you stay?
I repeated them in my mind like a spell, and when he spoke, at first, I thought he himself had spoken them.
But no.
“You are brighter than any star we saw tonight,” he confessed as he stroked my hair with one hand and my hip with another. As if he couldn’t bear for any inch of me to be unloved for even a moment. “Please, promise me something.”
“What?” I whispered around the hope lodged in my throat.
“ Segui la tua stella ,” he murmured. “It means ‘follow your destiny.’ Do not go home and let your parents dictate your life any longer just because you feel guilty about their loss of Gemma. Just because you feel you should be able to make their lives easier by being good at the cost of your dreams. Whatever wishes you made in the safety of your head tonight, follow them for me, even when I am not there to show you how much I am cheering you on.”
I blinked at the flood of tears that attacked my ducts, trying to keep them back through sheer force of will.
The only wishes I had made tonight were to stay here with Raffa forever, but it seemed he didn’t have the same dream.
“Your dreams mean more now to me than my own,” he said quietly before kissing the top of my head.
A few minutes later, his hands went limp on my body as sleep swept him and my hope for those three little words away forever.
When I was sure he was deeply asleep, I turned my face into his chest and let myself anoint him with my tears as I whispered, “I love you, Raffa. In any language, across any distance. And I always will.”