Chapter 21 Annie #2
I whimper at his touch, my hips arching up into his hand, and he curses under his breath in Italian. “Tell me if this is too much,” he murmurs as his fingers poise at my entrance, and I bite my lip, on the verge of begging him to stop going so slowly.
"It's not enough," I breathe.
He makes a sound that's half laugh, half groan, and then I feel the sensation of his fingers sliding inside of me.
We’ve never done this before. He was always careful not to go this far, before. For the first time, some part of Elio is inside of me, and the pleasure is overwhelming.
I grab onto his shoulders, fingers digging in as I clench around his fingers, and he stops instantly. “Are you okay?” he asks, and I nod quickly, rapidly.
“I’m fine,” I breathe. “Better than fine. Please—don’t stop… please—”
He groans at that, his forehead dropping against mine as his fingers start to slowly thrust inside of me, and his thumb finds my clit. The first pass of his thumb over my swollen flesh makes me see stars, and Elio groans as I clench around him again.
“Hearing you beg me—cuore mio, I could come just hearing that.”
I can feel him twitching against my hip, his cock thick and rigid, hot through the thin layer of fabric that separates us.
His fingers keep working me as he kisses me again, getting me used to the sensation of something inside of me, so much less than what I feel lying against my thigh.
But his fingers feel so good, working back and forth, his thumb pressing upward with each stroke, touching me exactly the way I need him to.
I’m so close. My nails dig into his shoulders as his tongue sweeps against mine, and I roll my hips into his hand, my muscles tensing.
“Elio—” I moan his name into his mouth, and then I feel the pleasure burst through me, a firework of sensation that doesn’t stop as his fingers keep up their rhythm.
It’s incandescent, incredible. I cry out, my breasts pressed against his chest as he works me through the orgasm, and I shudder, breathless as I sink back against the pillows. As he slides his fingers out of me, I grab for his shirt, trying to tug it off.
“You’re overdressed.”
“Not yet,” he murmurs, dodging my grip and sliding down my body.
I gasp as his mouth travels down between my breasts, over the taut plane of my stomach, down to the soft copper curls between my thighs.
His hands grip my legs, pushing them apart, and then I feel his fingers parting my folds as he takes in the sight of my most intimate flesh.
“Come on, my tongue, cuore mio, and then I’ll take my shirt off.
” He looks up at me, eyes glinting, and I swat at his arm, laughing for a split second before his tongue swipes up my center.
My laugh turns into a broken gasp, my entire body tensing as his tongue finds my clit and his fingers slide into me again.
If I thought the sensation of his tongue was mindblowing before, that, combined with the slow stroke of his fingers inside of me, makes me feel as if I’m melting, dissolving, every part of me on the verge of coming undone.
I would have thought I couldn’t come so soon again on the heels of one orgasm, but Elio’s tongue and fingers are magic, and I can already feel the pleasure building to its peak again.
I feel him groan against me as I start to come, my hips arching against his mouth as he pins me to the bed with his free hand on my stomach, sucking my clit between his lips as my orgasm crashes over me.
I cry out, a strangled sound that’s something like his name, riding his tongue shamelessly through my climax until I’m lying boneless and panting in the sheets.
“You… promised,” I manage, and Elio laughs, a deep, rough sound low in his throat as he reaches up and strips his shirt over his head.
Fuck, he’s gorgeous. All carved muscle and smooth skin, rippling and bunching as I reach out to touch him.
Elio’s head tips back as I slide my hands down his chest, and I see his cock jerk in the confines of his sleep pants.
He reaches down, pulling them off with one swift motion, and I gasp softly as his cock springs free, slapping against his ridged abs.
Elio opens his eyes, grinning as he takes in the look on my face. “God, I love seeing you look at my cock like that.”
I can’t stop staring at all of him. I trace the lines of his body with my eyes, memorizing the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, the dark trail of hair that leads down to his thick, throbbing length.
There's a scar on his ribs—white and puckered, clearly old. Without thinking, I lean up and reach out, tracing it with my fingertips.
"Knife fight," he says, touching my hand. "When I was nineteen. Stupid kid stuff."
I bite my lip. "Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore." He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my palm. "The only thing that hurts right now is how badly I want you."
The confession makes my breath catch. He's being more open than I've ever heard him, more vulnerable. Like maybe this means something to him too, even if he won't admit it. It’s as if, now that this is happening, he’s taking the chance to say the things that maybe he left unsaid before.
“You can have me,” I whisper. “We don’t have to stop this time.”
A series of emotions flicker across his face—pain and yearning and a need so deep that it makes my chest ache. He leans forward, kissing me gently, and I feel his cock nudge against me as his hand slides down my side.
And then he stops, freezing momentarily.
“Shit.” He swears again, this time in Italian. “I don’t have condoms.”
Fuck. I look up at him, chewing on my lower lip. “Just pull out,” I whisper.
“You know that’s not safe.” He starts to retreat, and I reach for him, my hand around the back of his neck as I look up at him pleadingly.
“Please, Elio,” I whisper. “I feel like I’m going to fucking die if we have to stop again.”
His eyes flutter shut for a moment, and he lets out a breath through his teeth. His cock, lying heavily on my stomach, throbs. I reach down and slide my fingers along his length.
“Fuck, Annie, that’s not fair,” he whispers.
“What’s not fair is how much I want you. Please—”
His body tenses, his muscles rippling with the effort to hold back. “Beg for it,” he says finally, through his teeth. “Beg me, and I won’t be able to say no.”
“Please.” The word tears from my lips effortlessly. “I don’t want to stop again, Elio. Please fuck me. Please. I need you inside of me. Please don’t stop.”
He curses under his breath, a string of Italian as he reaches between us, his hand wrapping around his thick shaft as he angles it down, nudging the swollen head between my folds.
I gasp when he slides it back and forth, through my wetness, the tip nudging against my clit and dragging a helpless moan from my lips.
"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs, positioning himself at my entrance. "Tell me if you need me to stop."
“I will,” I promise, my hips already arching into him. “Please, Elio—”
“You can have my cock, cuore mio,” he murmurs. “Just take it a little at a time. Fuck—”
He sucks in a breath as the thick head slips inside of me, and I feel a sharp burn of pain, and then a stretch. Elio goes very still, only the tip inside of me.
“Are you alright?” he murmurs, and I nod, speechless.
“Don’t… stop,” I manage after a moment, and he lets out a low, dry chuckle.
“I have to go slow too, Annie. Or I’m not going to last. You’re so fucking tight, so hot—God, I’ve been waiting a fucking lifetime for this.” He nudges his hips forward, another inch sliding into me. “I can’t let it be over too soon.”
Inch by inch, Elio slides into me. He holds my gaze, his expression taut with pleasure and pain and a devastating well of emotion in his eyes.
He brushes my hair away from my face as he slides into me further, his hand cupping my cheek, and he never looks away.
Not for a single moment, as he slips inside of me until he’s filling me completely, until I’m stretched around him and so fucking full.
"You feel perfect," he groans, his face buried in my neck as he shudders above me, holding himself there. "Like you were made for me."
It feels like I was. Like no one else was ever supposed to be here. Like, the only way I could ever experience this was with this man. I wrap my legs around him, arching my hips, and somehow it feels as if he goes deeper. We both cry out at the sensation.
"Annie." He gasps, and I feel him throb inside of me. "You're going to ruin me."
"Good," I whisper, rolling my hips against him inexpertly, trying to find a rhythm. "Ruin me too."
Elio lets out a shuddering moan, and he begins to thrust. “I can’t last long,” he gasps, his hand moving between us to stroke my clit. “I want you to come for me again, cuore mio.”
“I don’t know if—” I gasp, and he thrusts into me again, his movements gradually picking up pace as my body adjusts to him, as he loses control.
“You can. Come on my cock, Annie. Let me feel it."
His fingers work my clit as his cock slides into me again and again, the sensation of it so good, so overwhelming that it makes me want to sob with pleasure.
I grip his shoulders, his arms, my nails digging into his flesh as I learn the rhythm, as I meet him again and again as he pants and thrusts into me.
“You feel so fucking good,” he moans. “You’re so perfect. God, fuck, Annie—”
The combination of his words and his touch and the relentless rhythm of him inside me is too much. I come apart for the third time, clenching around him. I feel him shudder, feel him sink into me, and then I feel a hot throbbing sensation, and Elio curses.
“Fuck, I—Christ, I can’t—”
His muscles bunch against me as he lets out a ragged groan, his hips moving in short, jerky motions as he buries himself inside of me. He moans something in Italian, his hand gripping my hip, and then he goes still, his forehead pressed against mine.
“Shit,” he breathes. “Shit, I didn’t mean to—”
It dawns on me what just happened. That he didn’t manage to pull out in time. I should be freaking out, terrified, but all I can think is that I did that to him. It was so good that he couldn’t stop himself from coming.
The thought turns me on all over again.
Slowly, he eases out of me, and I wince at the sudden emptiness.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, looking over at him as he rolls onto his back, sweaty and trying to catch his breath. “It’ll be fine. I think it’s the wrong time of the month for anything to… happen, anyway. Once will be fine.”
Elio looks at me. “You sure?” he asks, and I nod, trying to look more confident than I feel.
“It’ll be fine,” I repeat. I move toward him, curling against his side, and he doesn’t push me away. Instead, he wraps his arm around me, his lips pressed to the top of my head.
I wait for him to say we’re only going to do that once, or you know that has to be the only time. But instead, we just lie there, in silence, the weight of what we finally did settling over us both.
And, after a long time, we fall asleep together.