He’s here as the man he is now, an animal, so virile, primal.
Holding me by my tied hands, he leads me over to my couch and stands me at the end of it. “Solleva le Braccia.” (Translation: Arms up.) “Huh?”
He pulls my arms up by the tie and bends me over the end of the couch, my arms are tied above my head as I lean onto my elbows. Then he lifts my robe so that my bare behind is sticking up into the air. “Cosi va meglio,” (Translation: Better.) he murmurs darkly as he rubs my skin in a slow circular motion. He then lifts my right leg and leans it up against the back of the couch, effectively spreading me right out.
I smirk into the couch. Fucking deviant.
“Ecco un panorama mozzafiato,” (Translation: This is a much better view.) he replies.
I giggle and then he spreads my behind cheeks apart with his two hands and I fall instantly silent.
What’s he doing?
He traces his fingertip over my back entrance.
“Jules.”
“Sshh, don’t make me gag you, baby girl. You may not like the taste of my socks.”
English, he’s back with me.
I smile, relieved, into the couch and then I feel his tongue there.
Oh….
I hold my breath as he licks me again, I’ve never….
Oh fuck….
He licks me again and I can feel his stubble, goose bumps scatter all over.
“You know I’m going to fuck you here, don’t you?” he growls as he really begins to lick me harder, his hands pulling my cheeks apart, opening me completely up for him.
My sex throbs for attention as she searches for more.
In the position he’s got me in, legs spread wide with my hands tied above my head, I couldn’t move, even if I wanted to.
He unzips his suit pants and my heart is hammering hard in my chest.
This is what he does to me, sets me on fire.
Every.
Single.
Time.
He pulls his pants down a little, revealing his rock-hard erection, he’s swollen and engorged with a thick vein running down his length. Pre-ejaculate drips, as his body searches for more too.
His hands become almost violent as he spreads me apart, his tongue in places where it shouldn’t be.
I shudder and he slaps me hard on the behind. “Non osarevenire, cazzo.” (Translation: Don’t you dare fucking come.) he growls.
What?
Like I can help it?
He rubs saliva into the lips of my sex and then, holding himself at his base, positions himself at my entrance and in one hard pump he’s into the hilt.
My mouth falls open as my body quivers around him, there is no air left in my lungs at all.
Fuck…he’s big.
No matter how many times we do it, I still have to get used to him.
He rolls his hips one way and then the other to try to loosen me up for him.
“Accoglimi dentro di te, piccola,” (Translation: Let me in, baby.) he murmurs.
”Fammi sentire quanto sei eccitata.” (Translation: Give me some of that cream.) Filthy bastard.
I smile into the couch at the delicious feeling…God, that feels good.
He inhales with a deep moan and grabs my hipbones in his hands and then pulls out and slams in hard.
Oh…. Fuck.
He pulls out and does it again and again and then we are hard at it.
This is when Giuliano Ferrara is at his best.
When he’s fucking for the sheer joy of it, overtaking a woman’s body for his pleasure.
With no fucks to give about anything.
His hand comes to between my shoulder blades and he pushes my chest down to the couch, changing my position. “Careful,” I whimper, I’m completely at his mercy like this.
He slows, as if realizing it himself, before letting out a deep guttural moan. “Sei cos incredibile, cazzo.” (Translation: You feel so fucking good.) He pumps me. “You feel that, take every fucking inch.” He pumps me harder and then slides his thumb deep into my ass.
My eyes begin to roll back in my head…oh fuck.
So much for my slow romantic date.
The position I’m in, his thumb where it is and the way he is fucking me at piston pace, I don’t have a chance in hell at holding this.
I cry out as I see stars, my body clenching hard around his as it comes in a rush.
“Fuck,” he cries, he holds himself deep and I feel the telling jerk of his cock as he comes deep inside me. He pumps me harder, long deep strokes as he empties his body completely inside of mine.
He falls over the top of my back and we both pant as we struggle for air, my face buried into the couch, his face against my back.
After a while he pulls out and kisses my butt cheek. “Brava ragazza.” (Translation: Good girl.) He kisses my other cheek and I smile against the cushion.
“I wanted tonight to be romantic.”
He chuckles as he pulls me to my feet. “That was me being romantic.” He pulls my face to his and holds it in his two hands and kisses me, it’s deep and tender, erotically slow.
Perfection.
The hotplate hisses and we both turn toward it as the vegetables boil over.
“Oh shit. I just burned dinner.”
He chuckles as he kisses me again. “Not the first thing you burned tonight.”
It’s late, after a long hot bath, Giuliano and I are sitting on the couch watching television.
“I found something today,” he says softly.
“What?” I smile.
“Well….” He sips his wine and hesitates as if choosing his words carefully. “One of my men was at their child’s art show last night at the library.”
“Okay,” I reply, where is this going?
“Anyway.” He pauses again and if I’m not mistaken, seems a little nervous.
“What is it?”
He goes to his suit jacket that’s still sprawled over the couch and retrieves something from the inside pocket, he passes it to me and I frown.
It’s a photograph of my mother and father…and Angelina. Dad has his arm around Angelina, but my mother is heavily pregnant, Lorenzo is there too.
Huh?
My eyes rise to his. “When is this from?”
“The date is on the back of it.”
I turn the photo over and see the date. “It’s the year I was born.” I frown and turn the photo over to study it again. “Since when….” I screw up my face in confusion. “My mother is pregnant, but Angelina is there, his arm is around her? I don’t understand this photo, it doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.”
“And what’s Lorenzo doing there?”
“Precisely.”
“Hmm.” I stare at it. “What do you make of it?”
“I mean.” He sighs heavily. “From a first glance, if I didn’t know better, it looks like a double date. My father and mother and your mother and Lorenzo.”
I put the photo down onto the counter and stare at it as I bite my thumbnail. “You’re right, it does.”
“And we know that Lorenzo and your mother started dating when you were young.”
“But Angelina and my mother hated each other.”
“But did they?” He gestures to the image, “Does it look like they hated each other? They are both smiling in that photo.”
My eyes rise to his. “What are you saying?”
“It’s possible that Lorenzo and your mother were in love earlier than we were led to believe.”
I blink in surprise.