STEFANO {Published/Sample Only}

8

Fuck. I dropped my head back, eyes rolling with it.

"Or-" he molded tighter, lifting until his lips grazed my numb ones. "We can just kiss, like the other night. If that's what you want."

I was hard, solid stone, dick breaking out of my pants, desperate to be fucking touched. "That's not all I want," I said with a rolling gasp.

His fingers set fire to my arms as they trailed up to my collar, undoing the shirt buttons top to bottom. Fuck. I backed into the wall, the only thing keeping me up.

He locked his stare on me as his hands dragged down my stomach, heading to my dick. Years, and years, soo many fucking years waiting for someone else's hands.

Every hair on my body stood at attention, my sack so fucking tight already, seconds from combusting. Then his fingers crept over my belt.

I looked down, watching him dip into my pants. I was a bomb, detonated the second he touched me. "Cazzo, sbrigati! Hurry."

My belt went loose, zipper squealed, pants and briefs fell. Only it was just air touching me-nothing else.

He just stared, mouth open, hands frozen midair.

"What?" I gasped again, begging for him to touch what was right in front of him.

"I," he spoke down, eyes the only thing on my dick. "I, I'm sorry. I, knew you'd be big. I, uh. I didn't expect, I'm, speechless."

"Speechless? All you're fucking doing is talking."

He snapped his head, blinked. "Shit. I'm sorry." And in one sweep of his arm, his hand was tight around me, five warm fingers curling one at a time around my dick.

My eyes sank shut, reveling in his soft, long strokes.

"How do you like it, Stefano? Tell me what you like."

"Rougher, faster," I belted out, palms bracing the wall behind me.

His lips came for my mouth, tongue plowing hard-just as hard as his grip, rubbing me off and faster, finding the perfect fucking rhythm.
Ooh, ooh, fuck! "Fuck! Fuck!" My tongue lost the battle, slowing, surrendering to his kiss, face nudging his away so I could watch the hand jerking me off.

His arm paced faster, eyes flashed to mine, the intensity of his stare and his touch making me bust, coming over his hand. So good. So fucking good.

One by one, his fingers released, the pressure subsided, leaving me weak against the wall, lost in fucking heaven from the best nut of my life. But heaven was short lived because I knew at any second hell would come knocking, that the guilt would show face like it did after the kiss.

"Did you like it?" he asked; I nodded automatically, my body and brain not fucking working yet.

And then I yanked my pants back up, pushing past him to get to the bathroom, sore palms smacking the counter, holding me up to meet my reflection-waiting for it all to hit. But nothing was happening. The only thing I felt was good, fuck, amazing. The chains, the imprisonment, the fear of this very fucking moment, and nothing. Nothing but a damn smile on my face. My heart wasn't heavy-it was alive.

I latched my belt, zipped my pants, then realized what the hell I was doing and kicked them back off. Tonight was all I had. I walked out, squinting from the now bright lights he had on, finding him in the kitchen, washing his hands.