Page 117 of Broken Pieces
He firmly grips my ass, syncing the movement with his hips. The sensation of his cock between my slick folds is overwhelming. Too much and simply not enough, all at the same time.
His hands firmly clench my hips and lift me up slightly, then easing me down his hard, throbbing cock. An involuntary moan escapes me, the sensation of him inside is overpowering. Pure pleasure.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs while gently biting my earlobe.
He thrusts at apunishingly slow pace, but I don’t mind it. His lips trace along my neck, leaving soft kisses in their wake. He takes one of my sensitive nipples in his mouth, swirling it with his warm, wet tongue and sucking it until I’m a blubbering, moaning mess.
I meet him, thrust after thrust. Both of us lost in each other's bodies, sharing moans and groans. Being with him, like this, in such an intimate way, is pure fucking bliss. Expressing the love we have for each other with our bodies is like reaching Nirvana. The way he worships me with every kiss, every touch, and every sultry word is exhilarating.
My body tenses as my orgasm builds. “Fuck, Damian. I’m coming,” I moan.
He holds onto my hips, picking up the pace with punishing, fast, delicious thrusts. It's rougher—less controlled—as if he's really eager to bring me to that point.
“Come for me, Darling. Milk my cock like the good fucking girl you are,” he murmurs in my ear.
His words send shivers through my spine, and my walls tighten around him as I reach the sweet moment of release. His thrusts become even more intense and forceful, and he pumps once more before filling me completely.
We're both caught up in the moment, and at our high peaks, he discovers my lips and kisses me with a newfound intensity. “I fucking love you,Tesoro.”
Damian Romano loving me wasn't something I saw coming. Life, with all its surprises, has led me to thispoint, and I'm just so damn lucky to have the most wonderful man in the world loving me in this space and time.
“I fucking love you too.”
One year later
Aria and I get up super early, just as the sun is starting to rise, to do the typical tourist stuff she enjoys whenever she visits New York. I thought it would be a cool surprise to bring her here after she sold her first painting.
That’s right. My girl is a full-time artist now.
It’s funny how things turned out. The painting I displayed of Aria’s last year drove people wild. People contacted the gallery often, every day almost, wanting to see more from this “mysterious artist” who had everyone talking. It really boosted her confidence to take her art seriously. She's been busting her butt for months, painting non-stop day and night. She finally got an incredible offerand sold her first painting. Now, more offers keep rolling in. It's pretty amazing to see her hard work paying off like this.
I’m so damn proud.
But it’s not the only reason why I brought her here.
We’re on our way to the Met, and I’m so fucking nervous, I want to crawl out of my skin. The red velvet box is practically on fire in my pocket, and my fingers are itching to grab it and scream at the top of my lungs how much I love her.
Walking into the Met, Aria looks around, confused. “Why is this place so empty on a Saturday?”
“I rented the place.”
She looks at me, dumbfounded.
“Thewholeplace,” I continue.
It took some serious connections and effort to pull this off, but I’m so fucking happy I did it. Coming to the Met with Aria holds a special place in my heart, and I couldn’t think of a better way to make such an important, life changing memory. As we’re walking around the museum, the silence is peaceful, but somehow makes me even more nervous at the same time.
As we admire every painting and every masterpiece, I think about this past year. We’ve been through so damn much. I reopened the gallery not long after everything went down and the business has been booming ever since. We attended Alex’s trial after all the documentation andevidence was “anonymously” submitted to the FBI. Turns out, Alex was running a whole operation with other sleazy motherfuckers from the industry. They all caved in pretty quickly and betrayed him, resulting in a ten-year sentence with no chance of parole.
We did our damnedest to move on from that mess and go on with our lives. If I had to do it all over again, I'd probably be honest with her instead of pushing her away. That was such a stupid mistake. That woman's got so much love for me, that she'd be on board with anything without a second thought. She's crazy like that, and I love her for it.
We arrive at our favorite collection, the European paintings. We stand in front ofCypress in Moonlight. That painting that a little over a year ago we admired together as I was admiring the one masterpiece before me—her.
“God, I love this painting so much,” she murmurs.
I look at her, studying the way her face concentrates on the painting. There’s something so peaceful about her admiring art. It’s my kryptonite.
She glances up, her eyes fixing on mine. “What?”
