Chapter 19
Gianni
She fumbled with my belt, her fingers unsteady as they slipped against the leather. I could feel the nerves in her touch. She kept her eyes on mine the whole time, like she was afraid that if she looked away, I might vanish.
I reached down and caught her hands, steadying them. Slowly, I unbuckled the belt myself, easing it free before guiding her fingers to the zipper. She lowered it carefully, almost reverently, like she was still deciding whether this moment was real.
She was full of surprises. That was the first truth I learned about her.
She wasn’t a girl, no matter how the world tried to soften her edges. She was a woman—fully formed, unapologetic. Every curve, every rise and fall of her body felt intentional, like it had been shaped by experience instead of innocence. There was nothing fragile about her. Nothing unfinished.
When I looked at her, I didn’t see something to claim quickly or consume in a moment.
I saw something rare. An untouched diamond, not because she lacked fire, but because no one had ever taken the time to really see her.
To uncover the joy buried beneath the surface.
The kind that waits patiently, daring someone to earn it.
She was every inch a woman. And I already knew I could spend hours discovering her—slowly, carefully—because some things aren’t meant to be rushed, only savored.
She slid down my body slowly, her fingers hooked into the sides of my pants, holding on as she lowered herself inch by inch. I felt every second of it, every careful movement pulling my focus tighter.
When she reached my knees, the fabric followed her down until my pants rested at my ankles. Her hands moved again, slipping into my boxers, easing them down my thighs with the same steady patience.
My cock sprang forth, long and hard, leaking precum as it slapped against my body. I glanced down at Mikayla and caught the way her tongue swept over her bottom lip, quick and nervous, like she was deciding what came next.
She didn’t hesitate for long.
Before I could even form another thought, she leaned forward, her hands steady as she closed them around my thighs. She opened her mouth and closed it over the head of my cock, her tongue sweeping down my length in warm strokes.
I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling, fighting to stay in control. I told myself to slow down, to breathe, to get a grip. But it was useless.
Her mouth didn’t stop, and whatever restraint I was reaching for slipped further away with every second. The pressure, the rhythm, the way she worked her tongue as it moved up and down my cock in long, luxurious laps—it unraveled me completely.
My hands moved on their own, sliding into her hair, my fingers curling tight as I gripped her head. Desperate and raw, like if I loosened my hold even a little, I’d completely come undone.
She moved a hand from my thigh and cupped my balls, squeezing them gently, as her mouth continued to move up and down my cock. In, out. In, out. Licking the tip. Then flattening against my length and licking up and down.
My grip tightened, not to hurt her, but because I was losing myself, fast. My control was cracking, splintered, sliding straight through my fingers, and this is not how I wanted it to end.
In one sharp movement, I released her and lifted her under the arms, pulling her back up until we were standing face to face. The sudden absence of her mouth on my cock hit me hard, leaving my body tense and aching with need. Whatever restraint I had left was hanging by a thread.
“I’d love nothing more than to blow my come down your throat, but that’s for another time,” I said, my voice raspy.
I backed her up until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She went down with a soft bounce, the mattress catching her as she fell. The sight of her there sent a sharp rush through me.
I kicked free of the clothes around my ankles without slowing down and stepped between her legs. She lay there beneath me, chest rising, eyes locked on mine—still, open, waiting.
Her pussy glistened. I reached down and traced a finger through her folds, then brought my finger up between us, displaying her own carnal desire on my skin.
“Another thing’s that’s going to have to wait,” I told her “is me soaking your pussy with my tongue.”
I pushed my finger toward her mouth, watched as her pupils dilated and she cleaned her own juice off it.
“I bet you’re going to taste like the sweetest nectar, baby.”
She made a soft, unmistakable sound as I slid my finger from her mouth—a quiet pop that echoed in the space between us. Her lips parted, breath unsteady, like she felt the loss of it as sharply as I did.
I stepped closer, nudging her thigh as I pressed into her.
The contact sent a sharp jolt through both of us, like a spark snapping between exposed wires.
I didn’t understand what kind of spell this was, only that my body reacted before my mind could catch up—wild, restless, completely undone by her.
I folded my body over hers, settling on my elbows, my cock pressed against her clit, applying pressure to her swollen nub. I watched as she took in a deep, surprised inhale at the first touch.
I didn’t move for the longest time, but when I did, it was a slow grind as my cock pressed against her clit, then slid further down until I was pressing her opening.
My cock throbbed, pulsing erratically as it begged for release.
I eased into her pussy, slowly and smoothly, her own juices lubricating me as I dived in deeper.
And then I started to move. Thrusting into her slowly at first, then faster, until my sac curled and tightened, threatening to explode.
I lifted her legs and rested them against my shoulders so I could get as deep as possible, then thrust once, twice, and on the third thrust, the sound of her orgasm tore out of her before she could stop it—low, broken, ugly in the best way.
And I followed, falling over the edge behind her, filling her with my come.