30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Donna
"Oh, Lorenzo," I moan, my voice muffled by the pillow. "Please don't—"
I lose my breath with the next thrust, my back arching as I try to push back against him.
But he's got me pinned tight to the mattress with one hand on the back of my neck, and the other holding my wrists behind my back.
He's a solid wall of muscle at my back, thrusting into me with deep, hard strokes that are making me lose the ability to think straight.
"Please don't?" he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You want me to stop?"
Almost at once, he stops, mid-thrust, and begins pulling out with agonizing slowness.
"No," I gasp, my brain finally catching up. "Don't you dare."
He stops, leaving just the tip of his cock inside me.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through my back. "Then what do you want?"
I struggle against his hold, not because I actually want to get away, but because the sheer helplessness of the position is sending my arousal to dizzying heights. I'm completely at his mercy, and he knows it.
Except he still hasn't moved a fucking inch, and I can't push back to take more of him.
"Bastard," I pant, finally giving up. I blow hair out of my face as the fight leaves me.
"Ask me nicely."
"There's a special place in hell for people like you," I spit out.
He laughs and leans over so his lips brush against my ear. "I adore you, amore mio." He shifts slightly, and the movement rubs against me in just the right way. I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. "Now, let's try this again. What do you want?"
I close my eyes as the denied pleasure continues to build in me, making my toes curl.
"You're so wet for me, Donatella," he murmurs, and I know that he's looking down to see my pussy stretched around him. "Look how well you take my cock, how badly your tight little cunt wants more."
The worst part is that I know he's not just talking dirty to get me all worked up, even though he knows it's my weakness.
He means every damn word. He's watching me with absolute fascination as he fills me, enjoying my desperate need for him almost as much as he enjoys being buried in me.
I let out a frustrated huff.
He's got me in a bind. The more I fight him, the more he enjoys it.
The more I give in, the more he enjoys it.
And the thought of it turns me on even more. I've never felt for anyone the way I feel for him, never known anyone who understands me the way he does.
And that terrifies me as much as it thrills me.
Love for him swamps me in equal measure with the desire he's causing.
I've never been a romantic, not really, but somehow he's managed to sneak past all my defenses.
"Please, Lorenzo," I whisper, my voice hoarse from emotion.
His fingers tighten around my wrists. "Tesoro," he murmurs, bringing his lips to mine, seeming to sense my changing mood. He kisses me gently, completely at odds with the hard possession he has over my body.
And I know that's when he's got me. Not when he's fucking me into oblivion, but when he's being sweet.
I love him, and there's nothing I can do about it.
I kiss him back, letting him take control of the kiss, letting him set the pace.
When he pulls away, I'm breathless all over again.
"Please, fuck me," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "I need you inside me. Please."
"Anything for you," he whispers, then thrusts into me hard.
I cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden return of pleasure. He gives me everything I asked for, driving into me with long, deep strokes.
Every thrust pushes me higher, every drag of his cock against my sensitive walls sends sparks of pleasure through my body.
The need to come is overwhelming, a desperate ache that has me squirming against him.
But suddenly, it's not right.
It's everything I wanted a minute ago. It feels amazing; my body is about to shatter into a million little pieces.
But it's not what I want.
Not like this.
A wave of emotions swamps me, unexpected.
Now when I squirm against him, it's real. A particularly hard thrust takes my breath, so I push back against his hold on my wrists.
He realizes it instantly, and his hips still. His grip on me loosens immediately. "Donna? What is it?" There's concern in his tone. "Am I hurting you?"
"No." I twist my hips. "I just... let me go."
He doesn't hesitate, releasing me completely.
He starts to pull out of me, but I tighten around him.
"No, don't. Just..." I'm still overwhelmed with emotions I can't quite identify, so the words are hard to find.
I push myself up onto my hands, and he lets me go without a word, following me as I shift, turning over onto my back. The movement leaves him sliding out of me, and we both let out a pained groan at the loss of connection.
I push the messy hair out of my face and look up at him. His expression is careful, worried.
I reach up, cupping the side of his face. "I'm okay," I say softly.
He leans into my touch, his eyes searching mine. "Cuore mio, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing." I shake my head and wrap my arms around his neck. "I'm fine. Better than fine."
He doesn't look convinced.
"I promise." I pull him down for a kiss. It's soft and sweet, everything I need in this moment. He's right there with me, deepening the kiss, showing me how much he loves me.
I break the kiss and look up at him. "I just want to look at you. Touch you."
His expression softens, but the worry remains in his eyes.
I don't blame him. I'm not entirely sure what just happened myself.
Instead of trying to explain, I show him.
I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him close, then I wrap my hand around his cock, guiding him back to my entrance. "Please," I whisper against his lips. "Love me, Lorenzo. I need you."
He isn't fully convinced. His eyes still search mine, but he must see something in them that reassures him because he kisses me again, softer this time, as he allows me to guide him back to my entrance.
He pushes inside me slowly, gently now, and I let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of fullness, of rightness when he's fully seated deep inside me. There's still an ache, a need for more, but it's different now.
He leans over me, bracing his forearms on either side of my head, and looks down at me.
"Is this better?" he asks softly.
"Much."
The position allows me to see him, all of him. I can watch the shift in his expression as he moves within me. I can see the love in his deep, dark eyes. I can touch his face, his shoulders, his chest.
The need that was driving me before returns, but it's more emotional now, less primal. I still want him, but I want more than the physical release. I want the connection.
His movements are still slow, still careful, and it's driving me insane. I want to be consumed, and yet, I want to savor every single second of this.
I lift my hips to meet his, and he groans.
"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" he mutters, dropping his forehead to mine.
"Maybe," I pant. "But what a way to go."
He laughs, the sound rough and strained.
"I love you," I whisper.
His hips still for a second, then he thrusts hard, burying himself even deeper inside me.
I cry out, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
"Again," I gasp. "Just like that."
He does. He pulls back almost completely, then thrusts back into me, again and again. The bed creaks in protest with each hard thrust, the headboard thumping a rhythm against the wall that sounds like a wild heartbeat.
I clutch at him, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders, my legs locked tight around his waist as I meet him thrust for brutal thrust. This is what I wanted. This wild, almost desperate joining, but with all the intimacy, all the connection, I crave.
He buries his face in my neck, his breathing ragged against my skin. The sounds of our bodies meeting, of our harsh breathing, of our whispered words of love, fill the room, creating a world where only the two of us exist.
He shifts slightly, and the change in angle—
Oh God.
Right there.
My body lights up like a Christmas tree, and I go rigid, as if afraid to move and lose that perfect angle, that impossible pleasure.
He knows.
He always knows.
"Right there?" he murmurs, doing it again, slower this time, grinding his hips against me.
My eyes roll back in my head, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful, a sharp, sweet ache I can feel in every part of my body.
He shifts one of my legs higher, hooking it over his arm, and then he's hitting that spot with every single thrust. The bed is shaking, the world is spinning, and all I can do is hold on for dear life as he takes me higher than I've ever been before.
I can feel my orgasm approaching, and I know it's going to hit me like a semi-truck barreling down on me at a hundred miles an hour. Or a hundred-foot tidal wave sweeping away everything in its path.
It feels inevitable. Unstoppable. Terrifying.
I'm not going to survive this.
"Donna," he gasps. "Look at me."
My eyes flutter open, and I'm lost in the dark depths of his, lost in the love and desire I see there.
"I have you," he promises. "I'll never let you go."
I can only nod, my throat too tight with emotion to speak.
With trust I never thought I'd feel for another person, I let go. I let go of the fear, of the control, of everything but Lorenzo.
My climax hits me then, a violent explosion that shatters my body, steals my breath, and shakes me to my very core. My world splinters apart in a blinding flash of light as pleasure so intense it borders on pain radiates outward, riding on every nerve ending, to the tips of my fingers and toes.
I hear myself cry out, a long, drawn-out moan that sounds both like agony and ecstasy. My back arches off the bed, my body shaking uncontrollably.
And still he thrusts, drawing out my pleasure, taking me higher still, until I can't take any more.
Just when I think I'll die from the sheer intensity of it all, Lorenzo takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, thrusts deep, and comes, hot and thick inside me.