Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
I smile up at him. “Why did you wait? You didn’t have to wait so long.”
His smile is regretful even as his eyes dance with lustful thoughts. “The situation is complicated, as you know. I didn’t want to take advantage of the … restrictions my brother is under.”
“That’s very honorable of you, I guess.” My lips curve up into a playful pout.
“Ahh, someone has been impatient. Well, then, I won’t keep you waiting any longer.” He withdraws and slides back inside me, inch by delicious inch. After a few more slow, tentative strokes, making sure I’m comfortable, he picks up his pace, filling me with his hard cock over and over, until the bed is wobbling and the headboard is knocking against the wall.
Both of us laugh distractedly at the noise we’re making, but mostly we’re focused on how good our bodies feel together. Fiero pulls out and rolls me onto my side with my back pressed against his chest. He parts my legs with his knee and then slips into me from behind, letting out a sigh when he’s deep inside me again.
He slides the tip of his tongue along my neck as his hand comes around to find my clit. A few flicks of his thumb across the little nub has me crying out. His expert touch at my core radiates out to all the cells in my body, and when he coordinates the rhythm of his hand to the thrusts of his cock, an orgasm races up and overtakes me before I even know it’s coming.
He keeps pumping in and out, and rubbing me over and over, as I come apart. His hard body cradling mine, his breath at my ear, his long fingers stroking, his thick cock filling me so full – all of it combines to keep me flying as I sail from one peak to another in a climax longer and more blissful than I could have imagined.
As I eventually come down, quivering in his embrace, he holds me tight while continuing to stroke slowly in and out, like a caress. His fingers brush the hair back from my flushed cheek. “You are always beautiful, but especially when you come.”
“You make me feel beautiful.” My voice is breathy, like a sigh. My heart is still beating rapidly.
“You are beautiful, Daniela. Like a goddess.”
From anyone else, the words would probably be too much, but from Fiero, they feel just right. I am a goddess, no more so than when my god – one of my two Roman gods – is making me see the heavens.
Fiero’s hand slides across my chest, stopping to cup my breasts and pinch my nipples, before continuing downward. His finger finds my clit as the palm of his hand presses my body back against his, fitting us tighter together. The angle of our connection shifts and suddenly I’m feeling him hit a new spot inside me.
“Oh my god, Fiero!” I thought I was done, but he ups the intensity, his body making mine sing with pleasure as he taps that spot again and again. I come once more, and this time he joins me, his body tensing against mine, his hand squeezing my thigh, his breath hot on my skin.
Afterward, I’m resting in a tangle of bedding, still glowing and tempted to pinch myself to prove that this is my reality, when Fiero returns to the bed after what I had assumed was a trip to the bathroom.
He lays a white box at my side that’s approximately the size of a large water bottle. “For you. Happy birthday.” He sits beside me, still gloriously naked, a Roman statue in repose.
I have a clear view of the tattoo on his side that I couldn’t read earlier. Vivi con passione. Live with passion. It suits him very well. And it also suits me today, the most passionate day I’ve ever experienced. But what about the rest of my life? Outside of my time with Fiero and Matteo, I don’t think I can say that I live with passion, or feel particularly passionate about many things. Maybe that needs to change.
I sit up and reposition myself against the headboard, pulling the sheet around me, suddenly self-conscious as I take the gift. “Thank you.” The box is heavier than I anticipate, and something shifts inside when I pick it up.
The red ribbon circling the box unties easily, and I lift off the lid to find a mass of white tissue paper with a reddish-brown form nestled within. It’s a sculpture, shaped from clay and now dried or baked, depicting a man and woman walking together, their faces turned toward one another. The woman is tucked under the man’s arm in a very familiar pose, and although it doesn’t include a lot of detail, there’s just enough of their features to show that they’re both very happy. In fact, they appear to be in love.