Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Beatrice let Giovanni guide her back to the softness of her bed.
She had never imagined that they would be doing this in her own room, but she was trembling with excitement and anxiety.
She let Giovanni lower her carefully onto her bedspread, the embroidered silk feeling strange against her naked legs, buttocks and back.
He stood at the end of the bed, looking down at her as if she was the most delightful thing he had ever seen.
It was flattering, but Beatrice was very aware of her nakedness compared to his dressed state.
She instinctively reached for a cotton quilt to cover herself.
“What are you doing?” Giovanni asked softly, gently tugging at the quilt.
“Covering up,” she swallowed hard. “I’ve never been…looked at…before.”
“You should be,” Giovanni ran his hand up her leg so that she shivered. “You are more of a work of art than those grand paintings in the Louvre.”
“Your very own art piece?” Beatrice giggled at the very idea. “Well, aren’t you glad that only you’re the only one that gets to see me?” She jutted her chin up, trying to appear coquettish and confident but her heart was thundering away.
“I am, very much,” Giovanni laughed softly, bending his head to press a kiss to her knee.
Beatrice had never thought that part of her body could be erotic, but she could already feel that tight ball of pleasure building in her lower abdomen.
“You never have a need to cover yourself, my dearest love.”
“Well…maybe I would feel more comfortable if you undressed too,” Beatrice whispered, allowing Giovanni to pull the blanket away and trying to lie back, luxuriating in his gaze.
“Maybe?” Giovanni lifted his eyebrows and wiggled them. “Well then, I suggest we try it.”
“I suggest you do,” Beatrice breathed, smiling flirtatiously.
Giovanni stepped back, reaching down to pull off his leather boots.
They dropped to the floor with a heavy clunk, one after another.
Then Giovanni pulled at the laces of his breeches, pushing them down from his hips in one fast, fluid movement so that his crotch and legs were suddenly revealed.
He stepped out of them, the muscles on his thighs limber and taut as he moved.
Then he was standing before her in all his glory.
Beatrice suddenly felt like she couldn’t swallow.
She had never seen a naked man in the flesh.
She had examined nude statues in museums and at the palace, admired their muscled ivory forms carved in marble and thought that she understood the male body.
She was wrong. It was entirely different to see a man naked in the flesh.
The statues didn’t show how the body hair was springy and curly, bouncing with life.
How the muscles flexed and moved and glistened slightly with sweat.
How the manhood was not small and curved against the thighs but large and prominent, standing tall as if in salute.
Nothing prepared her for seeing the man she loved bare and raw, just as nature intended him to be.
“I think it’s my turn to feel a little coy,” Giovanni said, blushing as he ran one lithe hand through his dark, curly hair.
“You shouldn’t,” Beatrice said breathlessly. “You are…beautiful.”
“I don’t think it is common for a lady to call her lover beautiful,” he laughed, self-consciously running his hands up and down his legs, from his thighs to his hips.
“But there is no other word for it.” Beatrice lifted herself onto her knees, shuffling towards him on the bedspread. With a ghostly touch, she traced a line from his collarbone to his heart. “You are beautiful.”
It was Giovanni’s turn to shiver. He closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side, as if desperate to touch her but holding back.
“No one has ever spoken to me like you do, amore mio,” Giovanni swallowed hard, his voice hoarse.
“No one has ever loved me as you do,” Beatrice responded, carefully uncurling his fists with her determined fingers. “No one will ever love me as you do.”
She brought his shaking hands to rest on her hips, hearing his sharp intake of breath as she did so. His eyes opened, and he looked down at her with a dazed expression.
“I - I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered. “I am…very aroused. I don’t want to go too quickly or cause you pain.”
“You could never hurt me.” Beatrice pressed a kiss on the space over his heart.
“I want your first time—the moment when you cease to be a maid—I want it to be special,” Giovanni continued, words tumbling over one another. “I want it to be everything you dreamed of?—”
“Hush, my love,” Beatrice pressed her fingertips to Giovanni’s lips, silencing him gently. “It is already everything I dreamed of because I am here with you.”
She leaned back into the pillows, pulling Giovanni down with her.
She led him as gently as a lamb and realized that she saw a tiny flicker of anxiety in his eyes, too.
Strangely, this gave her confidence, and filled her heart with love.
For all his knowledge and experience, Giovanni was just as nervous about this monumental experience as she was.
Just the thought of his kindness, his tender worries about her, made her more relaxed.
She opened her thighs, allowing Giovanni’s flesh to rest against hers.
His eyes widened in surprise at this action, but Beatrice ran her fingers over his shoulders comfortingly.
“It is all right, my love,” she whispered. “I trust you.”
“Cristo, Bea,” Giovanni groaned, allowing his body to melt down against hers, his hard manhood pressing delightfully against her soft skin, teasing that fiery ball of desire. “I don’t know if I can hold myself back, I - I have dreamed of this for so long.”
“Me too,” Beatrice whispered, kissing him enticingly. “Take what is yours, Gio.”
She lifted her hips to press against his firm flesh, making him gasp.
“Wait, wait!” he gasped, scrunching his eyes tight shut. “I - I want you to be ready?—”
“I am,” Beatrice said, wiggling her hips gently, enjoying his reactions. He groaned again but rolled slightly to the side, running his hand down her body. Beatrice arched her back to meet his hot fingers, teasing and circling the skin.
“You’re not,” Giovanni panted, his dark pupils wide. “Not yet.”
“Then what do we do?” Beatrice frowned up at him impatiently.
“I want to be with you. I want us to be as close as man and wife. Oh!” Beatrice gasped, her words interrupted by Giovanni’s unhurried, sliding fingers putting delicate, insistent pressure on a particular part of her that seemed connected all the way from her groin to her heart and toes.
“Oh God, Gio!” she gasped, immediately reaching up to tangle her fingers into his black hair.
Giovanni chuckled, nipping her lips playfully as she gasped and moaned. She could feel the pressure building inside her again, a blinding white light pulling her in from the center of her mind. Giovanni’s fingers moved faster, roving down to slip in and out of her at a tantalizing pace.
“Oh God, Gio!” she cried. “I want more.”
“Then you shall have it, amore mio,” Giovanni grunted.
He withdrew his hand softly, placing his fingertips into his mouth and sucking hard while he gazed at her, dark eyes shining with desire.
Beatrice felt herself tingling deep inside, as if his fingers were still moving there, and groaned expectantly.
“Please,” she whispered. “I want to be close to you.”
“It…it might be uncomfortable at first,” Giovanni whispered, using his knee to gently push her legs a little wider. He set the tip of his straining manhood against her warm, wet flesh. She could feel him, the warmth and firmness of him, right where his fingers had been.
“But it will be all right, I promise, and if at any point you want me to stop?—”
“I don’t,” Beatrice breathed, lifting her hips to push herself onto his length, feeling her tender flesh parting to accommodate him.
“Bea! Oh my God, Cristo,” Giovanni threw his head back, his arms on either side of her head trembling with exertion and control.
“Yes!” Beatrice took deep breaths, encouraging him to move with tentative, wary thrusts of her hips.
Each one brought Giovanni closer to her, filling her with his strength and perfection.
There was a tightness, a stretching feeling, but it was not unpleasant.
Beatrice knew he was too scared to move, too worried to hurt her or let go of himself.
“Gio,” she reached up to cradle his face, making him open his eyes and look at her with a dark, lustful gaze. “Make love to me, please.”
“Amore mio,” Gio whispered. Kissing her deeply, he began to thrust in and out of her slowly.
It was wondrous, having him so close, so deep inside her body.
It wasn’t the same blinding excitement that she felt when he touched her slick folds and the secret point of pleasure there, but it was magical.
She could feel something loosening inside of her as if she was being pressed out of her body and her soul was starting to fly on a higher plane.
“I love you, Gio,” she murmured, kissing his shoulder tenderly. At her words, he began to speed up, pushing into her deeply and powerfully, but she could tell he was still holding back a little for fear of hurting her.
“You won’t hurt me,” she whispered. “Let go, my love.”
It was enough for him.
“I love you, Beatrice,” Giovanni groaned over and over as he continued to thrust, then Beatrice felt him collapse into her with a mighty shout of release. “Oh God, I love you!”
Beatrice watched in wonder as his face tightened in passion and pleasure. How astonishing it was to see the mask that a man wore for the world shattered and broken as he let himself be free and loved in her arms. Yet Giovanni wasn’t finished.
“Wait,” he whispered. “Wait a moment.”