Ricardo #2
She tenses for a second, a flash of old hesitation in her eyes.
But then she relaxes, her legs falling open in a silent invitation.
I slide one finger inside her, then two. She is so wet, so ready for me. My cock throbs in response.
"I want... I want you," she whispers, her hips moving in a slow, rhythmic grind against my hand.
I smile against her skin. "I know, cuore mio. And I want you too."
I pull my fingers away, and she makes a soft sound of protest.
"Patience, tesoro," I murmur. "All good things to those who wait."
I kneel between her legs, and for a moment, I just look at her. Her body is bathed in the warm glow of the fire, her skin flushed with desire, her eyes dark with a hunger that mirrors my own.
She is a goddess, sprawled out on a makeshift altar before me.
I take my cock in my hand and guide it to her entrance, rubbing the head against her slick folds.
A soft cry escapes her lips. "Ricardo, wait."
My body freezes, every muscle coiling tight. Her words, so soft, are a splash of ice water on the fire roaring between us. My hand stills, my cock poised at her entrance.
For a terrifying second, I think he is back in the room with us. That I have pushed too hard, too fast, and her past has risen up to reclaim her.
I search her face, my own a mask of careful neutrality, bracing for the shame, the fear, the hesitation I saw before. "What is it, Julia?"
Her face flushes as her eyes drop to where my body is connected to hers, at the very brink of joining. "I don't..." she whispers hoarsely.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
She clears her throat, then tries again. "You're... really big," she finally manages to say, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. "And I don't know if..."
A choked, breathy laugh escapes me before I can stop it. It’s not a laugh of mockery, but of relief. A release of tension so sharp it feels dizzying. Not rejection. Not fear of memory. Just a practical, logistical concern.
And, I admit, a sliver of pure, male pride.
Her eyes fly up to mine, a flash of hurt in their depths. "Don't laugh at me."
My laughter dies instantly. I lean down, bracing my weight on my forearms, my body hovering over hers, and press a soft, gentle kiss to her lips.
"I'm not laughing at you, preziosa," I murmur against her skin. "I'm laughing in relief. I thought you were having second thoughts." I pull back just enough to look her in the eye. "And thank you."
Her mouth drops open. "It wasn't a compliment. It's a legitimate concern."
"One that will be addressed, I can assure you," I say, lowering my head to trail my lips along her jaw.
"I'm serious, Ricardo," she insists. "Harrison wasn't—"
"That is the only comparison to him that I find acceptable," I say, my lips now on her throat, my tongue darting out to taste her pulse.
"You're impossible," she says, pushing my chest lightly, but there's no real force in it.
"Sì," I admit as I kiss her collarbones. "But I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you."
I don't have to say, 'Not like him.' She knows.
I settle myself between her legs again. "I will do nothing until you are good and ready for it. You will accommodate me, I promise you that. And if it's too much, you tell me to stop, and we will stop. Capiche?"
A slow, shaky breath leaves her, and she gives a small nod.
"Okay?"
"Yes," she whispers.
I don't move to enter her yet. Instead, I lean down and kiss her. It’s slow and deep, a kiss meant to soothe and reassure.
As I kiss her, I shift my hips, not to press inside her, but to rub against her. My cock slides through her slick folds, the head bumping against her clit with each pass.
Her breath hitches.
"Feel that?" I murmur against her lips. "Feel how you're getting ready for me?"
A soft moan is her only reply.
I continue this slow, maddening rhythm, until her hips are rising to meet me, her body moving in a sinuous, pleading dance of its own.
I slide my hand between us, my thumb finding her clit. I circle it slowly, matching the rhythm of my hips.
For a long time, I do nothing but pleasure her. I watch as the tension drains from her body, replaced by a fresh wave of desire that is stronger than before.
I can feel her inner muscles starting to flutter, the tell-tale sign that she is getting close.
I pull back.
A soft cry of protest escapes her lips.
"Shhh," I murmur. "Not yet."
I take her breast in my hand, my thumb brushing over the nipple, as I lower my head and capture the other in my mouth. I suck gently, my tongue swirling around the tight peak.
I can feel her body responding, her back arching, her hands tangling in my hair.
I slide one finger inside her, then two. She is wetter than ever, her body welcoming me. I curl my fingers, hitting that magic spot again and again, as I continue to suck on her breast.
Her breath comes in short, sharp gasps. "Ricardo... please..."
"I know," I say gently. "Just a little more."
I can feel her getting closer, her inner muscles fluttering, her body tightening. I increase the pressure of my thumb, circling faster, faster, until she is right on the edge.
Then I stop.
A sob of frustration escapes her lips.
"Trust me," I say, and then I guide my cock to her entrance again.
This time, there is no hesitation. No fear.
There is only need.
I press the head inside her, just a little.
She gasps, her eyes flying open.
"Easy," I murmur, my body perfectly still. "Just breathe."
I hold her gaze as I slowly, inch by excruciating inch, press into her. I watch her face for any sign of pain, any flicker of fear, but all I see is awe.
And desire.
I push deeper, stretching her, filling her, until I am finally buried to the hilt inside her.
A long, low moan escapes my lips. She feels incredible. Hot. Wet. Tight. Like she was made for me.
I give her a moment to adjust, to get used to the feel of me inside her.