Page 120 of Ricardo

Then there is more.

More heat. More weight. More of him than I know what to do with.

My body is a taut wire, humming with tension. He is still above me, holding himself back with an effort I can feel in every locked muscle of his body. His arms bracket my head. His chest rises and falls against mine. His jaw is tight, his eyes fixed on my face, watching for the smallest sign that I need him to stop.

He is so careful with me.

That is what breaks something open in my chest.

He could move. He could take. He could let instinct win.

He does none of those things.

He stays buried deep inside me, giving my body time to understand him, accept him, and in that stillness, I feel everything. The fire warming my skin. The storm beyond the windows. His thick cock buried deep inside my damp heat.

The frantic beating of my own heart against my ribs.

And the feel of him, so deep inside me, it feels like he's touching my soul.

His eyes are locked on mine, and in their depths, I see not just desire, but a tenderness that takes my breath away. He is not just taking from me. He is giving to me. He is giving me this moment, this experience, this reclamation.

I bring my hands up from where they were clutching the blanket, and I touch him. My palms slide up his sweat-slicked back, feeling the powerful muscles beneath my skin. I trace the line of his spine, the broadness of his shoulders.

He is real. This is real.

And it is beautiful.

I feel a single tear escape from the corner of my eye, tracking a hot path down my temple.

Ricardo sees it. His brow furrows and concern cuts through the desire in his eye.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice rough.

I shake my head.

His body remains completely still. “Then why are you crying, cuore mio?”

"Because..." I have to pause, swallow past the lump in my throat. "Because I didn't know it could be like this."

He studies my face, and I feel him twitch inside me. The small movement sends heat rolling through my stomach.

"Like what?" he prompts gently.

"Like... I'm here," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "Really, truly here. In my own body. With you."

A slow, seductive smile spreads across his face.

"Good," he says. "Then let's make sure you stay here."

He lowers his mouth to mine.

The kiss is slow. He gives me a moment to breathe into it, to settle into the feel of him, to stop bracing for pain and start trusting the pleasure.

Then he starts to move.

The first withdrawal of his cock is so slow it makes my fingers tighten against his back, leaving me aching, empty, desperate. He pulls almost all the way out, until just the head of him is still inside me, holding me open.

He holds himself there for a heartbeat, two, his eyes burning into mine, letting the anticipation build.