Broad, slow, owning me from the start. He licks into me like a man starved, like this is what he’s been waiting for, what he’s needed just as much as I have. The sensation is so intense, so overwhelming, my body jerks, fingers clawing at the sheets, a helpless, broken sound tearing from my throat.
He growls against me, his hands tightening on my thighs, holding me down.
"You’re not running from this,dolcezza," he rasps, his voice hoarse, half-wild. "Not when you taste this fucking sweet."
I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
All I can do is feel.
His tongue moves in slow, teasing circles, flicking against my clit before he slides lower, devouring me in long, hot strokes. Every nerve ending lights up, my back arching as the pleasure coils tight in my belly, already pushing me toward the edge.
I whimper, hips lifting into his mouth, but his hands slam me down, pinning me to the bed.
"Stay still," he commands, his breath scorching against my skin. "Or I’ll tie you down and make you take it."
A desperate moan escapes me at the thought, and he chuckles darkly.
"You like that?" His tongue flicks against my clit, fast, sharp, before he sucks me into his mouth.
I cry out, legs shaking, my body already too close, too wrecked.
"Fuck, Marco, please?—"
He groans, the vibration shattering through me as he buries his face deeper, his tongue plunging inside me, fucking me, his grip bruising on my thighs.
I can’t take it.
I can’t.
My fingers sink into his hair, yanking, but instead of pulling away, he moans against me, his tongue fucking me harder, faster.
"Jesus—" I choke out, my vision blurring, my body spiraling.
He groans, his hands moving, spreading me wider, his mouth everywhere at once—his tongue, his lips, his teeth, wrecking me, owning me.
"Come for me," he demands, voice raw, commanding. "Come on my tongue,bella."
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me, violent and all-consuming, my thighs trembling, my breath breaking, my entire world narrowing to the feeling of his mouth, his tongue, his hands.
But he doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t even slow down.
He keeps licking, keeps sucking, his tongue merciless, dragging me into a second orgasm before I can even catch my breath.
I scream his name, my body convulsing, my nails digging into his scalp as I fall apart again.
Only then—only when I’m boneless, trembling, gasping for air—does he finally lift his head.
His mouth is slick, his lips swollen, his pupils blown wide as he wipes his thumb across his mouth, like he’s memorizing the taste of me.
Then he smirks, dark and possessive, dragging his hands slowly up my body, making me shiver.
"I could live between your thighs," he murmurs, voice thick, ruined.
I shudder, still trembling, still aching.
