Chapter 20 #2
Beatrice gasped as he lifted Beatrice’s legs to wrap around his back and pulled himself up into a seated position, still inside her. With his chest heaving from the exertion and his eyes dark and full of lust, he set his thumb down on the exposed flesh between her legs.
“Oh, God!” Beatrice twisted her head into the pillow, biting down hard to keep from screaming out. The combined feeling of him still full and warm inside her and his thumb rubbing gently, teasingly against that pleasurable spot was too much.
“I love you, darling. I love you,” Giovanni whispered, his thumb picking up speed as Beatrice found herself grinding her hips down on him, marrying the rhythm of their bodies together as she rode on towards pleasure.
This is what it feels like to have a soul mate, to be so bonded you cannot be torn apart. This is where it happens.
“Giovanni!” She screamed his name into her pillow, hearing him grunt and gasp above her.
The feeling of his body so close to hers, the repeated pressure of him pressing again and again against that intimate place, made the brightness inside Beatrice’s eyelids explode into fireworks of hot and cold trembling.
“I love you too,” Beatrice whispered, feeling her mind slowly unravel from that pinnacle of pleasure.
She had never felt so complete, so entirely relaxed.
She could feel herself drifting off, but she knew Giovanni couldn’t sleep here.
If a maid or—God forbid—Anna should come in at dawn, they would be ruined.
“Gio,” she moaned sleepily, pushing her forehead against his. “Gio?”
“Huh?” Giovanni groaned, raising his head slightly only to flop it back on her shoulder. “What is it?”
“You can’t stay,” she whispered, chuckling lightly at him.
“Why not?” Giovanni’s voice was muffled against her hair. “You’re…my wife.”
Beatrice’s heart did a grateful somersault at his words. She smiled, biting her lip.
“I’m not your wife yet,” she whispered. “Go.”
“Don’t want to,” Giovanni pointed, kissing her shoulder. “Won’t. I’m staying here.”
“Gio, don’t be silly.”
“I’m not,” Giovanni looked tenderly at her, stroking her cheek. “I’m making a choice. I’m choosing to stay in my wife’s bed. We are wedded in word and deed and soon in vow. I could not leave you now, whatever happens. You are mine. I am yours. Si, amore?”
Beatrice nodded tremulously, not sure if she could trust herself to speak.
“So…you’ll stay with me?” She whispered, pulling the duvet up over them. “You’ll be my bed warmer?”
Giovanni nestled close, nuzzling his nose into the sweaty skin of her neck and sighing happily.
“Forever.”
A warm body close to his. Warm flesh, springy and smooth.
Soft hair brushing against his lips in the darkness.
Giovanni heard the gentle fluttering of breath, in and out, someone waking from sleep and pressing their body perfectly against his.
Giovanni opened his eyes, but it was the dead of night.
The only light was the moonlight spilling over the bed, where he could see silvery glowing hair, a shoulder as pale as the moon.
“Beatrice,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a reverential kiss at the back of her neck. “Go back to sleep.”
“But I’m awake,” Beatrice murmured, pushing herself back against him. He was already firm, rising to meet her soft flesh, and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Are you?” Giovanni rubbed his nose against her skin, inhaling her scent. It was different now. The lavender scent was mingled now with the smell of their bodies together, tangy and sharp, sweaty and comforting. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Is there a better time for amorous activities?” Beatrice chuckled sleepily, her hand reaching back to trail her fingers and nails lightly up his thigh.
Giovanni swallowed hard. He didn’t think he would ever stop wanting her.
Making love to her had not sated his need, not tamed the fire of his passion.
If anything, his desire had only grown. Now he knew how it felt to stroke her skin, to press her naked body against his, to bury himself deep inside her, he didn’t think he would ever stop wanting her.
“I do not think so,” he whispered, slipping his hand around to dip between her legs.
“Oh,” she arched her back against his chest. The duvet slipped down, and she was bathed in moonlight, her breasts pale as stars, the nipples red and hard.
Giovanni groaned and moved his hand a little harder, pressing firmly as he pulled her hips back against his.
“That feels…different than before,” she mumbled.
“Does it?” Giovanni gently bit her shoulder and heard her gasp. “Do you like it?”
“Yes!” Beatrice’s hand gripped his thigh, her nails digging in. Giovanni bit his lip against the sharp burst of pain and pressed a little harder. Beatrice gasped again, her hips starting to fall into a rhythm, her buttocks moving against his manhood again and again.
“Beatrice, I love you,” he muttered, lapping and biting her neck.
She had no idea how sensual she was, how naturally she moved with him.
He had bedded many women, but none responded to him with the same kind of intuitive affection that Beatrice did.
She somehow knew exactly how to please him without ever asking, and when she did ask, it pleased him even more.
“Will you take me?” Beatrice asked breathlessly. “As you did last night?”
“Not like last night,” Giovanni panted. He was loath to change position—he’d had fantasies of taking her just like this, and was eager, almost desperate, to complete it.
“Why not?” Beatrice whined, adorably petulantly. “I enjoyed it. Please?”
“My darling, I will spend the rest of my life pleasing you exactly as you want.” Giovanni chuckled at her urgency.
He already knew that Beatrice was going to be an eager and impatient lover.
He was looking forward to exploring that with her.
“But right now, I should like to please you in a new way. Might that be permissible?”
To sweeten the offer, he slowly licked up from her shoulder to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Beatrice groaned.
“What is it?” She panted.
“Well…” Giovanni removed his finger for a moment, rejoicing when he heard her frustrated little moan, and, holding her hips, he maneuvered himself to press against her entrance. Beatrice gasped, stilling in his arms. “It is something like this…”
“We - we can make love like this?” Beatrice whispered. “But…I cannot see you.”