Page 66 of Salvatore

For a brief moment, I can’t move, the weight of his words holding me in place. “I don’t understand why you think that. I only know I don’t like you believing it. You’re my world, Salvatore. I wish I could make you see what you mean to me.”

I don’t wait for him to argue like I know he will, kissing him deeply. For a moment, I’m sure he’ll wrench free from my hold. Instead he gathers me to him, his lips hungry for mine. I surrender to him, ingraining his taste and the feel of his skin into my memory.

His thick staff extends along my belly, making me groan. Yet as I reach for it, he clasps my wrist, keeping me from him. “Did I hurt you?” he asks. “Tell me the truth,” he says, making it clear he won’t let me stroke him until I answer.

“No,” I respond, but my answer comes too quick. Doubt spreads along his features.

I slide my wrist free as he loosens his grip. “The way we made love wasn’t what I expected,” I begin.

My voice trails as his fingertips skim around my breast to circle my nipple. “I was hoping after all the times I made you come with my fingers that it wouldn’t be so bad.”

The centers of my breast stiffen as I try to find my words. “It was uncomfortable, not painful, but so beyond perfect it felt more like a dream.”

His features continue to reflect his doubt. But it’s the truth, and I need him to believe me. “I didn’t want it to end,” I admit. “You took your time, using care, and the way you held me, it’s like you never wanted to let me go.”

“I don’t want to let you go,” he says, his rumbling voice appearing to fade in the darkness.

“Then don’t,” I say, kissing him once more.

His bare skin encompasses mine. I don’t dare tell him how embarrassed I was to simply lay there holding him against me. Aside from encouraging him with the sway of my hips, I wasn’t sure what to do. My fear was he wouldn’t be able to finish, that my lack of involvement would prevent his release. But when he did, and as he filled me, we locked eyes in a way that proved his love.

He may not be ready to tell me and I’m not sure he ever will. But that didn’t make the moment any less sacred.

Sharing intimacy is hard for Salvatore and it’s taken a lot for him to let me in. Sex . . . it wasn’t solely about me giving him my virginity. It was about him accepting he was deserving of something he felt was so pure.

I shudder as his erection grows against my belly. When I reach for him, he clasps my wrist, pulling my hand and the one under me. He pins them over my head as his tongue glides along my throat. I like what he’s doing, his nibbles causing me to writhe and slide my nipples against his chest.

Yet I’m so desperate to please him, I can’t simply lie there. “Are you sore?” I ask, my accelerating pulse and tightening center make me daring. I push up on my legs, causing the thick head of his penis to press harder between us.

He averts his head, growling. He’s turned on, but once more he’s holding back. “Do you want me to kiss it?” I ask, my comment more of a plea.

“Aedry . . .” he says.

“Please let me,” I say.

He takes several deep breaths before releasing me and rolling onto his back. His hands sweep along my spine as I draw an invisible line of kisses from his throat to his hard stomach. I pause as I reach his hardness and flick the tip. I may not know what to do when it comes to sex, but by now I know what he likes when I taste him.

He bites back another swear, rushing to push up on his elbows and cup the base of my neck. But when he grips himself and leads the head toward my open mouth, he takes his time, teasing my lips before feeding me his fullness.

His head lolls back, the muscles along his throat and chest contracting with his increasing breathing. He shifts beneath me, threading his fingers through my hair and lifting the strands away from my face so he can watch. I smile bashfully as I glance at him, stirring a groan as he pops free of my mouth. I smile again, this time more playfully, deepening my tastes and savoring his expanding flesh.

I love having this control over his pleasure and the sounds he makes as I take him further. It’s almost a challenge, to see how far I can go and how tight the cords along his throat will constrict beneath my touch.

When he bucks beneath me, I almost think he’ll let me finish him this way. But these last few hours have changed everything between us.

He gathers me in his arms, lowering me onto my back. “Are you ready for me, again?” he asks against my ear.

I nod and spread my legs. Despite his careful strides to penetrate, I can’t deny I’m tender. That doesn’t make me want him any less.

I’ve never felt so close to anyone. It wasn’t just what we did, it’s how he made it all about me, how those rough hands passed over my body as if I were a delicate rose he was afraid to crush.

He rubs his erection against me, searching for his way in as he murmurs in my ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasps, tugging on my lobe and speaking quietly in Italian.

I’m not sure what he says. That doesn’t stop each syllable from etching into my soul and melting me against him.

I tilt my chin, wanting to see him. Agonized euphoria encompasses his features as he slides inside me. I crane my neck, exposing my throat for him to kiss. There’s pressure, lots of it. I can feel his entirety as he withdraws and advances. But this time, it doesn’t hurt. This time, it feels good . . .

A whimper breaks through my throat, followed by a lustful groan. Salvatore’s head falls beside mine. “Am I being too rough?” he murmurs.

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