Page 300 of Ricardo

He enters me slowly, giving me a chance to adjust to him. My body opens for him like a flower. He's huge. Always has been. It's a stretch, a beautiful, delicious stretch that makes me feel full.

He pauses, buried to the hilt.

My eyes flutter open.

His are closed, and he's trembling.

“Ricardo?” I whisper.

He opens his eyes and the raw, naked emotion in them takes my breath away.

“I almost lost you,” he says, his voice rough. “I almost lost both of you.”

“You didn’t.”

“But I almost did.”

He starts to move, a slow rocking of his hips that sends jabs of pleasure through me.

I pull his head down to mine and kiss him. “You didn't. We’re right here.”

I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper.

"Be with me," I murmur against his mouth. "Love me. Fuck me."

He growls and kisses me again, hard and demanding. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, taking possession. He picks up the pace, his strokes becoming longer, deeper.

His hands are everywhere, tangled in my hair, cupping my face, gripping my hip. He's devouring me, reclaiming me.

The bed creaks, our skin slaps together, the sounds of our lovemaking fill the room. The rhythm is ancient, primal. A dance as old as time.

The outside world is gone. There is only this room, this bed, this man.

This new life we created together.

My body clenches around him as another orgasm builds.

I meet him thrust for thrust, my hips rising to meet his. My body is slick with sweat. My hair is damp and sticking to my forehead. I’ve never felt more beautiful.

I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight. "Don't stop," I gasp.

"Never," he growls.

He’s watching me. His eyes are fixed on mine. He’s not just fucking me. He’s loving me. He’s showing me. Showing me what I mean to him.

It’s more than I can bear.

My heart is full of him.

My body is full of him.

My soul is full of him.

I cry out as pleasure washes over me. I ride the waves, my body shaking with the force of the orgasm and my love for this man.

I'm wrung dry, but Ricardo doesn't stop. He slows his thrust down but never stops. He goes back to those long, languid strokes, stimulating my sensitive nerves but not so much that it's painful. He's in no rush. He's savoring me.

Savoring us.