“Natalia,” he chokes out.
I don’t know how to tell him that I want to touch him. So, I reach for his zipper, searching his eyes. He looks at me uncertainly, torn between wanting this and holding on to something I don’t yet understand. And then, finally, he decides for us.
“I have to feel you,” he rumbles.
There seems to be some deeper meaning to those words, as if the decision has been agonizing for him. He reaches down and helps me unzip his trousers, revealing a bulging pair of black briefs. Before I even touch him, the heat radiating from him warms my skin. Our gazes lock, and he’s so still, I’m not sure he’s even breathing. I reach for him, slowly sliding my palm over his engorged cock. A visible tremor moves through his entire body as I do, and it stirs a deep want within me. I never knew my body could feel so empty, but right now, it does. It’s screaming for him. Desperate for him. Willing to do anything to have him inside me. There’s just one problem.
He’s so … huge.
I’ve only ever been with one man, and it was painful. I don’t have any idea what Alessio will feel like stretching me apart. But I want to find out regardless.
I slip my fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs to touch him for real and he jerks at the contact, a muffled curse heaving from his lips. He’s so hard for me, it produces a strange flutter in my belly. Maybe it’s butterflies. Maybe it’s hunger pangs. I don’t know. I just know I like it.
He looks down at me, losing himself to the moment as I wrap my palm around his thick base and stroke him. His eyes take on a drunken intensity and then he tips his head back, rocking into my fist like he can’t help himself. Every muscle in his body strains under the confines of his clothes, and I wish more than anything he’d let me peel them off. But I can sense there’s something lingering just beneath the surface. He’s surrendering to me inch by inch, but one wrong move might send him reeling in the other direction.
I memorize every detail of his face like this. Every agonized sound that erupts from his chest. Every muscle contraction. The way his lips fall apart before he forces them back together. He’s trying not to reveal too much, but he’s just as vulnerable as I am. I want more. I want everything. His skin against my skin. His breath on my neck when he slides deep inside me. I want him to change what I know about sex, but he’s fucking my fisted palm, pressure coiling in his body with every thrust, and I don’t know if he’s going to take it any further. His dick is starting to pulse against me. It’s just a matter of time. Then abruptly, right before the inevitable fall, he stops. He opens his eyes, looks down at me, and repeats the same thing he said before.
“I have to feel you.”
Those words have significance, and I’m trying to figure out exactly how much, when he pulls back slightly and yanks his trousers down to his knees. It’s the first glimpse I’ve had of his whole body since the sauna, and it’s even better up close. His thighs are strong and muscular. Between them, his cock hangs heavy, bobbing as he lowers his body over mine. I splay my legs further apart to accommodate him.
Once he’s close, he stops to search my eyes. I can’t tell what he’s trying to find there, but whatever it is seems to relax him.
“Just … once,” he grits out.
He fists his cock and slides it against my arousal, stifling a groan as I arch up into him. He tortures me that way, drawing it out, rocking his pelvis against me, using my come as his lubricant. It seems to go on forever, another orgasm building in me as his cock strains against the friction. I know he’s on the verge too. He doesn’t seem like he wants to stop, but eventually, he does, long enough to press the head against my opening.
Our eyes meet, and slowly, he starts to sink into me. I feel every penetrating inch. My fists tangle in the bedsheets, and even though there’s a slight bite of pain from his girth, I’m trying to absorb every second of it. He clenches his jaw, his tension palpable as he goes deeper and deeper until finally, he’s fully rooted inside me. For a minute, he closes his eyes, arms shaking, body tight, and I think he’s trying to hold himself in check.
I reach up and touch his face, and he opens his eyes, staring down at me with an expression I’ve never seen. He looks totally and utterly owned by me right now. I recognize it because I know I feel the same about him. He’s branded himself on me somehow, and I fear that I’ll never be able to cut him out. Even worse, I don’t think I want to.