Chapter 8 - Sarah
"Oh god, Franco..."
My words dissolve into breathless moans as his mouth works against me.
I shouldn't be doing this. I know it. I promised myself after Tommy's father that I'd think twice before falling for someone again.
Especially someone dangerous like Franco.
Someone who could be present one day and gone the next, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my heart while explaining to my son why another man has vanished from our lives.
But in this moment, with his head between my thighs and pleasure coiling tight in my belly, I can't deny myself this. Can't deny the connection that's formed between us, a connection that feels more real than anything I've experienced since Tommy was born.
I grip his short dark hair, pulling him closer to me. He doesn't complain or pull away. Instead, he doubles his efforts, burying his face deeper in my wet pussy, his tongue exploring every inch of me.
He finds my entrance and circles it with the tip of his tongue, the sensation making my back arch off the bed. It's like he's preparing me for what's to come, taking his time to ensure I'm ready for him.
Without warning, he slides two long fingers inside me while his tongue returns to circle my clit.
The dual sensation makes me tilt my head back, gripping the sheets with my free hand, panting like I've run a marathon.
I've only been with one other man, Tommy's father, and he disliked giving oral pleasure, always rushing through it when he bothered at all.
Franco is different. Not a selfish boy but a man—a relentless man with his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs as he devours me like I'm his last meal.
"Franco," I gasp again, feeling the tension building inside me, threatening to snap. "I'm going to—"
He increases the pressure, curling his fingers to hit my g-spot over and over again.
The orgasm hits me like a freight train, my body arching, thighs trembling, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure crash through me.
Franco doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down, drawing out my climax until I'm whimpering, oversensitive and trembling.
Only then does he ease back, pressing gentle kisses to my inner thighs as I come down from the high, my chest heaving with each breath. When I finally manage to focus again, I find him watching me, his eyes fierce and intense, his lips wet with my arousal.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice rough with desire. "Any regrets?"
I can't help but laugh, the sound breathy and weak in the aftermath of pleasure. "Do I look like I have regrets?"
"I don't know," he admits, surprising me with his honesty. "I'm not exactly the type of guy women usually go for."
I prop myself up on my elbows, studying him as he kneels between my legs, still fully dressed except for his shirt while I'm completely naked and trembling from his attentions.
"You have no idea what women want, do you?" I say, feeling bold in my post-orgasmic haze. "A handsome, dangerous man who can also be gentle? That's very charming."
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and my pussy throbs in response. God, just his facial expressions turn me on. What is happening to me?
"I'll show you how charming I can be," he says, rising from the bed.
I watch, mesmerized, as he undresses quickly, revealing more of his scarred, muscular body.
Each mark on his skin tells a story of violence and survival, a physical record of the life he's led.
When he's down to just his briefs, I can't tear my eyes away from the impressive outline of his cock straining against the fabric.
Without thinking, I reach out, grabbing the hem of his briefs and pulling them down.
His cock springs free, almost slapping my face in the process, and my eyes widen.
He's big—impressively, intimidatingly big—and thick, the head already glistening.
I gulp dryly and wrap my hand around him, my fingers not even reaching halfway around his girth.
"Are you sure you can take all of it?" Franco asks, a hint of concern in his voice despite the desire in his eyes.
I meet his gaze, a challenge in my smile. "I've always loved a challenge."
He nods, the intensity in his eyes making my heart race. "That's good."
He helps me lie back on the bed, positioning himself over me, his weight supported on his arms. I feel small beneath him, protected and vulnerable all at once.
He reaches between us, gripping his cock to guide it to my entrance.
I feel the broad head pressing against me, stretching me as he begins to push inside.
"Fuck," I breathe, my body tensing slightly at the intrusion. It's been so long, and he's so much bigger than what I'm used to.
Franco freezes immediately. "Should I stop?"
I shake my head frantically. "No, don't stop. Just... go slow."
He nods, his jaw clenched with the effort of restraint as he eases forward, entering me inch by agonizing inch. There's no pain, just a slight discomfort that quickly gives way to pleasure as my body adjusts to accommodate him.
When he's fully seated inside me, both of us are gasping for air. He holds still, allowing me time to adjust, his eyes locked on mine. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel more exposed than my nudity, like he's seeing parts of me no one else has bothered to look for.
"You look gorgeous," he murmurs, beginning to move with slow, shallow thrusts.
I reach up, placing my hands on either side of his face, feeling the rough stubble against my palms. "So do you," I tell him, meaning it more than he can possibly know.
He leans down to capture my lips, and as our tongues meet, he begins to move faster, his cock pushing deeper with each thrust. I've never felt so full, so completely possessed by another person.
The pleasure builds quickly, each thrust hitting spots inside me I didn't know existed.
It's hard to keep quiet, hard to keep my eyes open as sensation overwhelms me.
I'm vaguely grateful that most of my neighbors are at work; the thin walls of this old building would certainly carry every sound we're making.
My arms begin to shake from the effort of holding onto him, and I release his face to grip the mattress instead.
Franco immediately places a hand on my cheek, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the power of his thrusts as his hips slam against mine.
The wet sound of our bodies meeting fills the room.
"Franco," I gasp, feeling a strange pressure building inside me, different from a normal orgasm. "I think I'm—something's happening—"
The sensation intensifies, and instinctively I push against his chest, needing space. He immediately pulls out, concern flashing across his face. "What's wrong?"
Before I can answer, my body betrays me. Liquid gushes from me, soaking the sheets, splashing against his thighs. I've squirted, something that's only happened once before, when I was alone with a vibrator.
"Oh my god," I gasp, mortification washing over me as I cover my face with my hands. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know I would—"
Franco's warm hands pull mine away from my face, forcing me to look at him. To my surprise, he's smiling, not mocking me, but looking genuinely pleased. "Don't apologize," he says, his voice low and rough. "It just means I'm fucking you well."
To prove his point, he reaches between us, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing in firm circles. My back arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crashes through me, and I squirt again, this time even more. The floor beside the bed is now wet, but Franco doesn't seem to care at all.
I'm panting, my chest heaving, aware of my belly rolls swaying with each breath. I do feel self-conscious, but Franco is looking at me like I'm the most desirable woman he's ever seen, his eyes roaming down my body with unmistakable hunger.
"Get on all fours," he instructs, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I comply immediately, turning over and rising to my hands and knees, my body trembling with anticipation. Franco positions himself behind me, one hand gripping my ass cheek, squeezing the flesh.
"Put your ass higher," he commands.
I obey, lowering my face to the mattress and arching my back to present myself to him. The position should make me feel vulnerable, but instead, I feel powerful, knowing the effect I'm having on him.
"Fuck!" I cry out, the sensation overwhelming as he enters me again.
It only intensifies when Franco grabs a handful of my hair, pulling my head back as he establishes a relentless rhythm, his other hand still gripping my ass.
I've never been fucked like this. Never even imagined being fucked like this.
Tommy's father was my only other partner, and our sex life had been as brief and uninspiring as our relationship.
This is something else entirely, something primal and raw and honest. Franco isn't holding back, isn't treating me like I might break.
He's claiming me like he needs me, like this connection between us is as necessary as breathing.
I start pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts halfway, wanting to show him how good this is for me, how perfectly our bodies fit together. There's something between us, something beyond the physical, something we could build on if we both want to, no matter how complicated it might be.
After all, Franco has shown me everything I've been missing: affection, protection, respect. Not just for me but for Tommy too. My son took to him immediately, something that never happens with strangers. It has to mean something.
The pleasure builds again, my second orgasm approaching rapidly.
I bury my face in a pillow to muffle my cries as Franco maintains his punishing pace, his cock hitting spots inside me that make coherent thought impossible.
I scream into the pillow, my teeth sinking into the fabric as waves of pleasure crash through me.