Page 142 of The Italian Obsession

My knees buckle, and he slaps me hard with his free hand. “Stay up,” he barks.

His cock slowly slides out, and my mouth falls open. He slides it back in in time with his thumb. He gets harder and faster with both cock and thumb. Then he takes his thumb out and slowly eases himself into its place.

Deep, where no man has gone before.

A claiming. My eyes roll back in my head to the sound of his hiss.

I can’t talk. I can’t hear.

I can only feel him. Enrico Ferrara, the god. My god.

“Oh, mia bella ragazza, mi sei mancata.” Translation: Oh, my beautiful girl I missed you.

With the sound of his whispered words and the feeling of his cock, I begin to moan as his pumps get deeper and deeper and it feels so fucking good that I can’t stand it.

It sends me over the edge. I cry out as an earth-shattering orgasm rips through my body.

“Ah!” he cries as he loses control. He grabs my hipbones with force.

He begins to fuck me hard. The sounds of our skin slapping together echoes around the room.

“Fuck. Fuck, ohh,” he hisses as he holds himself deep.

I feel the jerk of his cock deep inside of me as he fills me with his thick semen.

He continues to slowly pump me as he completely empties himself deep inside of me, and then he leans over me and turns my face to his.

I have nothing left. I am completely spent—wet with perspiration, my morals smashed to pieces.

“I’m going to make you happy.” His lips take mine, and we kiss. I feel the last of my sanity fall away.

“Rici,” I whimper into his mouth.

“I’ve waited all my life for you, Olivia,” he whispers.

My eyes fill with tears. “Thank God you found me.”

He pulls out of my body as his lips hold mine. I wince at the loss of his body. It hurt coming out as much as it did going in.

He leads me into the shower and holds me tightly in his arms as he turns it on. I’m speechless.

I can only cling to him, my emotions raw.

I never expected that, I never expected to want it. Everything about today is new.

We get in under the water, and he soaps up his hands and takes his time. He washes me as we kiss. It’s not sexual; it’s loving, caring, and everything I thought we would never be.

We don’t speak. Words are irrelevant right now.

He missed me. With all of his heart he missed me. I can feel it with every touch.

For a long time, we stand under the hot water in each other’s arms, and I feel so warm and safe that I’m falling asleep against him. It’s like the torture of the last few weeks without him have come to an exhausted head and I can hardly keep my eyes open.

“Come, my bella. Bedtime, baby.” He helps me out of the shower and dries me carefully with a towel before I get into bed.

He turns off the lights and climbs in behind me. Then he lovingly pulls the blankets up over me. “Sleep, my love.”

I close my eyes, completely exhausted.