Page 93 of Quake

He lengthens inside me, and I feel his hot cum filling me to the brim before he finally collapses on top of me, our chests drawn together, heaving.

***

“Okay, I’ve thought of another thing I want,” I tell him, peering over at him.

Gianni rolls his head to the side to look at me, and he’s wearing a slight smirk. “You wore me out already. Role play is over, so you don’t call the shots anymore.”

“Ialwayscall the shots,” I tell him, winking so he knows I’m kidding.We’re equals.

“You’re not wrong. Where I’m concerned, you certainly do,” he tells me. “What would make that pretty smile of yours stay in place, hmm?” he asks.

“I want you to play a song for me,” I tell him.

He rolls his eyes, wearing a silly grin. “Done, but you know what that means, right?” he asks, and I haveno idea.

I shake my head, and he says, “We’ll have to actually get dressed because I need to grab some instruments from my place.”

I groan. “You mean you can’t just walk around naked all the time for my viewing pleasure?” I ask, my voice full of mirth.

He shakes his head, his unruly dark waves sticking to his damp forehead. “Unfortunately not. I mean, I’d do just about anything to make you happy, but it wouldn’t last long because I’d wind up in prison for indecent exposure.” He laughs.

I groan, resigned, as I sit up, dragging the sheet with me. “Fair enough. I suppose I’ll allow it in that case.”

He shifts beside me, sitting up and grabbing his clothes to get dressed.

It’s hard not to pout about it when he puts his clothing back on. It should be illegal to cover all ofthat.

Once dressed, he bends forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be back in a few.”

***

Gianni has quite the setup here. We’re sitting on the couch with his keyboard sitting on a stand, a guitar, and a tambourine.

“Okay, what would you like me to play first?” he asks.

I’m at a loss. I think I’ve had to make entirelytoo manydecisions today. “Just play whatever will makeyoufeel good,” I tell him.

His shoulders relax as he scoots to the edge of the couch and sets his hands on the keys. I see him close his eyes, seemingly lost in thought, and then it happens.

The most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

He lets go of every warring emotion running rampant in his mind and just lets himself enjoy this with no qualms. My apartment fills with an unfamiliar melody that sounds so breathtakingly haunted, but it twists into something lighterand more upbeat.1

His body sways with the rhythm, eyes still shut as he trusts that he knows exactly where the keys are, and judging by the sound of it, he definitely does.

Tears prick my eyes as I slink back in my seat, listening as he takes us on a rollercoaster of emotions.2My heart seemingly speeds up and slows down as the music does, and I simply ride the wave with him.

He goes on like this for probably fifteen minutes or more, and when he’s finished, my heart feels like it could explode. He leans back against the couch cushions with a small, contented smile that has butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

Gianni De Laurentiis isalwaysbeautiful, but there is nothing more stunning than this man when he’s content.

“That was incredible,” I choke out. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him and holding me tight against his side.

“Youare incredible,ma petite rouge. It’s because of you that I can replace the dread I felt about playing with more of these happy memories. Sothank youfor that.” His words settle something inside me, and over the next hour, he continues to swap back and forth between the piano and guitar. I officially know how he’s so skilled with those fingers of his.

“Why the tambourine?” I finally ask because, truthfully, it seems like a strange choice.

“Just because you were terrible at the violin in middle school doesn’t mean you can’t at least playsomething,” he tells me with asmirk.

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