- RORY -
I’m curled up in Luciano’s arms like a cat. No one has ever held like this. No one has ever looked at like this. No one has ever... anything like Luci has.
We fit. Sohow we fit perfectly.
Despite what I said, I know I love him. It’s this glimring truth deep inside, like a precious jewel hidden in a dark cave. I can’t dig it out yet, though. It’s going to remain there for awhile, because I don’t know how to give voice to it. It will sound awkward and insincere.
Luciano and I stay entangled like this for a long period. I can’t discern if it’s minutes or hours that have passed, because ti seems irrelevant at this point.
A comfortable silence and peace has descended like gentle snow, blanketing us entirely from the rest of the world. And under it are only our bodies humming with satisfaction and our souls speaking in this way that apparently souls do... in a way that is felt rather than heard.
Luciano’s phone rings, but he doesn’t move to answer it. His head is bent over mine, keeping tucked under his chin, keeping close. Clearly he doesn’t want to leave this position, just as I don’t.
The ringing stops, and we’re left with only our breathing once again.
"They’re going to call again," he whispers above , kissing my head.
"I thought maybe we left reality," I chuckle lightly.
"It feels like it, doesn’t it?"
The ringing begins again, and I slowly uncurl from his arms, lifting my chin to see his warm brown eyes gazing down at . Adoring .
I kiss him, smiling against his lips when his hands move to glide over my back in a possessive way—the desire waking back up and unfurling under his touch.
"You should get that," I tell him, and he groans, deepening the kiss instead as a sort of rebellion.
The ringing stops again. In its place our breaths speed up, skin warming, hands becoming eager and wanting. Luci hikes my leg up over his hip and enters with one swift slide, groaning softly when I gasp.
I gasp every ti. It’s an intrusion that stretches and fills, but then I can’t imagine not having him there, not being connected in this intimate way.
It’s just and him again. Luci’s hands bracing against every thrust forward, his mouth making sweet, hungry promises that I eagerly return. His eyes watching intently, deep and honest and giving.
We’ve reached sothing deeper than before. Before there were jokes and teasing and play. That’s still all there shimring on the surface above, but this is so much deeper—an entire universe below where we were.
Luci rises to his knees, arm lifting around the waist until I’m on all fours with him behind , bracing my hips. At first I freeze, because this is the position I don’t do. This is the one that grips with terror.
Luciano must realize it, because he slowly drops over , blanketing with his body instead. The protective security of his chest against my back is a reminder that I’m safe.
"Are you here with , tesoro?" His deep, silky voice is in my ear as he stays just like this—a shield above , waiting for permission. Waiting for my breathing to return to normal instead of being held, caged in my lungs by fear.
Instead of answering, I turn my head and kiss him at this awkward angle. He pulls back against him, both of us rising to our knees.
His arms hold secure—one hand gently kneading my breast and the other flattening over my stomach like there is sothing important there to claim... a future life, perhaps. And for so reason, that hand is the one that makes all the remaining fears depart.
"Yes," I whisper belatedly against his lips, arching back against him.
Luciano’s soft rumbling growl rises along the column of his throat, and he lowers back down, kissing and biting along the path of my scar before gripping my hips again and lining himself up. A whimper is pushed out of when he enters, but then he drops back over —holding against him and moving slowly.
It’s more intimate this way, both of our bodies moving together. Luci’s forehead drops against my back as his hips swirl, seeking all the angles of this new way our bodies are learning each other. And, gradually, a different sensation builds deep inside. One that has arching my back, offering him fuller access, giving him a resistance that makes him groan.
His sounds are the best—every one of them. They’re primal and animalistic, speaking to those parts of , making them co alive.
He pushes up from where he’s draped over , holding my hips secure so he can increase the pace, chasing that sensation building between us. There’s power here—in his grip, in his movent, in the force he creates between us. That’s the power I’ve learned to fear.
But I beco aware of a different power, too. One I have—to angle myself, to press back, to speak to him with my body. And Luciano listens. He’s attuned to the most subtle cues. I can tell, because he adjusts to accommodate them every ti.
"This is mine, Lorelei," he says, his hand dipping to flatten against my stomach again, supporting against the forceful thrusts of his hips. "This position is only for ."
There’s tenderness in his voice—a contrast to the possessive statent. Like he’s explaining sothing rather than demanding it.
I whimper in return, giving him what he’s claid and bracing myself against the bed when suddenly he stops and pulls out. Before I can react, his mouth replaces the absence, startling as he begins slowly and lovingly devouring from behind.
"Luci," I gasp, lifting myself to tell him to stop, but he holds fast. And then... then it’s so good. I give in with a whine, lting back onto the bed and letting him continue. "Oh my god, Luciano."
How does he do that? How does he know?
Luci is working up another incline with his tantalizing tongue, and my hands curl into the sheets in anticipation, teeth clenching, embarrassing sounds threatening to break free. Then he stops and grips my hips again, driving back into with one swift move that makes cry out in surprise.
I’m shattered instantly—dazzling rays of pleasure spiking out in all directions as he holds against him, quickly climbing after . With a feral growl, his movents turn wild and erratic in the midst of my tremors.
"Oh my god," he groans hoarsely, wracked by his own tremors that ripple into —causing mine to increase.
"Goddess," I whisper on a harsh breath, my pants mingling with his as we drop to the mattress almost in unison.
"What?" He pants, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. Apparently he has no trouble seeing this ti. "What did you say, amore?"
When he finally turns to look at , I smile.
"I prefer goddess," I tell him, offering a version of his own joke back to him.
"Oh, I know you’re a goddess," he smirks and leans to kiss . "There is no doubt about that, Lorelei Gray."
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