I draw his length in deeper, wetting it so I can easily slide him down my throat. His mouth parts, and his brow furrows as he stares down at me with reverence. And it’s now that I realize how much can be said in a single look—how long Enzo has been talking to me—and I’ve never stopped to listen. But he’s been listening to me all along.
Emotion floods my chest, rising up my throat as I hollow my cheeks and swirl my tongue. I suck him harder, swallowing him completely, my lips kissing his pelvis. A shudder works its way through his body and curses spill from his mouth.
I’ve never had a gag reflex, but it still makes my eyes water from the lack of oxygen. After a few moments, I retreat, a long, slow drag that earns me a few more colorful words. And still, I keep my eyes up.
Can he hear me tell him that he is the first man I could pleasure without feeling sick? Can he hear that with him, inviting a man into my body feels like a choice and not a means to survive? Does he hear me thanking him for making me feel less broken?
He must, because he fists my curls and forces my head back, and yanks me up toward him to capture my lips in a savage kiss. When he pulls back, I reach for his cock again. I wasn’t done—I want to keep pleasing him—but he evades me.
“I choose where to make you whole,” he growls, helping me to my feet and pushing me back onto the table. He grips the underside of my knees and lifts them until my feet are planted on the edge of the table.
His cock slides along my slit, and I buck my hips uncontrollably, my arms curling around his neck and molding my front into his. My entire body is trembling, and I need him close for reasons I can only say through my silence. I need to feel him.
His hips pull back enough for him to line up with my entrance, and then he pushes in slowly while capturing my bottom lip between his teeth.
I’m shaking, and the urge to cry is burning the back of my throat. My silence is screaming at him now, begging him to see me for who I am and not for what I’ve done.
His kiss deepens as he buries himself fully inside me, capturing my cry with his tongue. One hand glides through my hair and grips the back of my neck while his other arm circles around my waist, bringing me impossibly closer.
My chin trembles as he begins to slowly pump inside me, long drags out and quick thrusts in. It’s driving me wild, and I’m clawing at him to come closer, though it’s impossible for him to get any deeper.
It’s only when we’re out of breath that he releases my lips, resting his forehead against my own as we breathe each other in, trading quiet moans and sharp intakes of breath, as if anything louder will shatter whatever this is.
“Show me, bella,” he rasps. “Show me where you hurt so I know where to love you most.”
Tears well in my eyes, but I force them back, not wanting anything to cloud my vision of him. My brows are pinched as I swallow them down, but I let him watch me fight to stay.
I let him see that he’s worth staying for.
“Mostrami come amarti,” he voices, so deep and alluring that it sends chills down my spine. I don’t know what it means, but it sounds beautiful and heartbreaking.
His pace grows rougher, quicker, and his stare blazes brighter. Sweat coats our bodies, and each brush of skin is like kindling in a fire, bringing us closer to combustion.
The bowl of soup crashes to the ground, and one side of the table slips off the carpet, the legs screeching against the wood with each thrust, making it harder and harder to keep quiet.
He feels too good, and his cock is hitting a place inside me that has my eyes rolling. My head drops back, a sob bursting from my throat. I can feel my heart falling victim, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
His teeth scrape against my neck a moment before he bites down on the flesh below my ear. I shudder as he sucks, heightening the euphoria.
I’m so close to shattering. And I’m scared for him to see those jagged pieces and decide they’re not worth bleeding for.
“Enzo,” I cry, the sound a coalescence of pain and pleasure.
“That’s it,” he breathes, nipping at my throat again. “That’s how I want you to use my name.”
He drops his hand from my nape and slides it between our bodies. It takes only a few strokes of his finger over my clit to ignite the fuse.
I detonate, my legs whipping around his hips and squeezing him so tightly, he can barely retreat an inch.
A growl rumbles through his chest, but I can’t feel a thing past the string of explosions letting off inside me.
Distantly, I feel him lift me up as he crawls onto the table again, allowing him the angle he needs to continue driving into me.