Page 102 of Enzo
“I’m sure,” I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. “Before everything changes. While I’m still me.”
His smile was soft. “You’ll always be you to me.”
The lights dimmed to a warm glow as Enzo took his time, patient and thorough in a way that made my heart ache. His fingers traced patterns on my skin, learning every curve and plane as if memorizing me before the changes. When he reached for the lube, I was trembling with anticipation rather than fear.
“Just breathe,” he whispered, his voice a calming anchor. “We’ll go slow.”
And he did.
His fingers moved so slowly. I pushed back, craving more, and knocked the toy out of his hand.
“I need you. I want you,” I said in desperation.
“Ro…” Enzo whispered against my lips.
“Please,” I begged.
“Say stop,” he began, and then swallowed. “If you need me to finish this…”
“Now, Enzo,” I said, channeling all the bossiness I could muster. I felt the plastic of the dildo at my entrance and it was wrong. “Stop!” I said, and to his credit he immediately rolled off me. He petted me and held me and told me it was okay.
“I want you, I don’t want the toy,” I said.
“Rom—Robbie?—”
“Please.”
The initial tightness and warmth of his fingers shifted to an unexpected pleasure, deeper and more intense than anything I’d felt with the few toys I’d played with. His lips moved to my thighs, exploring every inch, adding to the sensation with every touch and kiss. With every touch I waited to shut down, to give up, to need to lock myself in the bathroom, but it never happened. He was perfect.
“Okay?” he asked, checking in with each new sensation.
“Yes,” I gasped. “More.”
He used so much lube we were a slithering slobbery mess, and he smiled at me and I grinned back, because this was fun and sweet and so damn hot I was going to lose it before he got inside me.
“Do you want to ride me, it can be?—”
“I want your weight on me, I need you to cover me…”
“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered. He’d stopped calling me by my real name, but that was something we’d decided together. The old Roman was gone, and Robbie was the man he’d fallen in love with, and the man I’d begun to feel fit me.
When he pressed inside me, the fullness was overwhelming. I clutched at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I adjusted to the feeling. Enzo remained still, his forehead pressed to mine, our breaths mingling.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured. “So perfect.”
The words hit something deep inside me—something bruised and hidden. I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes before I could stop them. No one had ever said that to me as if it were true. As though they meant it. And coming from Enzo, it landed with so much love, it almost hurt. We moved together, finding a rhythm that built from slow and gentle to something more urgent. The sensation of fullness gave way to pleasure so intense it made my vision blur, made me cry out his name in a way I never had before. His weight on me was perfect—grounding me, keeping me present when I might have floated away on waves of sensation.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered into my ear, his voice strained with his own need. “Always got you.”
My body tensed, back arching as pleasure crested and broke. Enzo followed moments later, his face buried against my neck, his breaths hot. We stayed like that, connected and breathless, until he pulled away with care and gathered me to his chest.
“Was that okay?” he asked, concern coloring his voice as he brushed sweat-dampened hair from my forehead.
I nodded, unable to find words for a moment. Then I managed, “More than okay.” I touched his face, trying to memorize every feature, every freckle and line. “I wish we could stay here forever.”
“We’ll have forever,” he promised, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Just not in this ridiculously expensive hotel room.”
I laughed, then sobered. “Tomorrow, everything changes.”
