Page 3 of La Dolce Vita

"You are safe with me."

"Yes, I feel that," she sighed and let his strong arms secure her to his heart. And it did work. No matter what the terrible dream said, his touch was all she needed.

"Talk to me. What was the dream this time?" Giovanni asked. They were at the side of the bed. Giovanni was naked. She could feel his semi-erection pressed into her back. And his hairy legs locked over hers.

“Don't be afraid to tell me; I want to help."

“What if you can’t? What if the dreams are that scary, that terrible?”

“Then I have to help. I can’t stand to see you in pain.”

Shame swirled in her stomach The night terrors were something she could never share. She sat forward a bit and his hold on her was forced to loosen. She looked back at him. Deeply bronzed skin stretched over every inch of him, even his dick. His body glistened with sweat as if he'd just returned from her nightmare and slaying her demons. She turned and faced him. He was such a good-looking man. Her gaze lifted from his groin to his defined abs. Tight ridges formed a six pack. Hid chest was broad and expanded with each deep intake of breath. He was her husband and since the night terrors began he'd never left her side. The distress her mental state brought into their marriage was hard to ignore. He stared at her, confused by her state. She felt a rush of emotions, including the deep seeded lust she carried for his protection. Sex was as close as she could be with him and it made her feel safe. When frightened to death by the dark memories of her kidnapping, she needed his nearness, his attention. Her brain tried sluggishly and unsuccessfully to push away the nightmarish thoughts and focus on him. And when she looked down at herself she realized she was also sweating. How long had they tangled? In her head, the fight lasted seconds. But Giovanni breathed hard as if the ordeal went on forever.

“What made you scream like that?” he asked.

Mirabella traced the outline of past scars on his muscular chest with her fingertips over his chest. Giovanni’s gaze lowered to her touch.

“I need you,” she said. She pulled her thin nightdress over her head and tossed it away. The focus had shifted for them both. His gaze became heavy-lidded and darkened to nearly sapphire blue. He looked at her breasts and body with greed. Good. She didn’t want to talk about a false memory. She wanted to make new ones. Before he could overthink their connection she straddled him. Mirabella held to the back of his head and guided his mouth to her breast. The brush of his tongue and the warmth of his mouth brought her nipple to a tightened state immediately. A groan rumbled up from his throat. A familiar sound of desire from her husband spiked every dormant cell of arousal in her body, and she tingled all the way to her core.

The thick bone of his erection pressed against the lips of her sex and she rolled her hips slowly to tease him.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned and lifted his face to look into her eyes.

“Fuck me,” she said in a voice so weak the words barely escaped her mouth. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, before letting out a moan as she slid down on his stalk. Her mind turned off. Heat and need throbbed deep inside of her. Each time she rose and went down on him the walls of her pussy clenched. He inserted his finger in her anus and the entire lower region of her body stiffened then relaxed upon penetration. Nothing was off limits between them. Again and again, he took her to new heights.

"Fuck me, baby, fuck me," she panted as she bounced on his dick.

“Ti scoperò fino a farti esplodere di piacere--I will fuck you until you explode,” he groaned.

She didn’t move fast enough. She couldn’t move fast enough to satisfy his passion. He flipped her over to her back and kept thrusting in and out of her slick channel. The flex of his hips sent him deeper, and she writhed beneath him. Her lips parted, and her eyes were wide. He lifted and saw her chest move up and down as she struggled between speaking and breathing. Giovanni swirled his hips and withdrew slowly, and then stroked deeply into her again and again. She deliberately shut out any awareness of the past and the present. Her singular focus was him. The long muscular strength of his erection filled her up, and the power strikes became intense. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. He hammered his love into her while keeping her pressed down against the floor with her thighs and legs pushed back to his arms. She whimpered only twice when his power drilling became nothing but hard bangs instead of the love she was used to. She pulled on his ears to stop him and to bring his face up from her shoulder, so she could kiss him and slow down his ravishment of her. No one controlled her Don. Not even her.

Giovanni slowed to a stop. He lifted his head, and his face was slick with sweat.

“We aren’t done,” he said.

He pulled out of her, and she groaned with disappointment. She wanted him to slow down not stop.

“Succhiami il cazzo--suck my dick,” he said.

Mirabella licked her lips. She eyed his turned up penis as the tip glistened with her essence. Giovanni sat back on his haunches and stroked his length for her. She got on her knees.

The first glide of her tongue down his dick was heaven. But it was the second that caused him to thrust forward and impale her hot wet mouth. Giovanni clenched his teeth and felt his pelvis twist into a pretzel knot, and his groin seize as he summoned strength. She snorted through her nose and sucked him hard and vigorous with her jaws, no teeth.

Control returned. He looked down at his beautiful, tortured wife. He kept thrusting his hips back and forth slowly to fuck her mouth and slip even closer to the back of her throat. He could tell by her soft moans, and the dreamy way her lashes fluttered, that she liked it. That turned him on.

“Yes, Bella, like that,succhiami il cazzo--suck my dick,” he breathed and grabbed the back of her head. He'd never been loved so entirely by a woman. His balls hardened, his toes curled.

“Mmm,” he moaned and nearly released into her throat.

He pulled her hair to draw her mouth off his dick, but she still managed to use the tip of her tongue to lick at his dimpled center and the pre-cum.

“Turn around.Inginocchiati--get on your knees,” he said.

She did as he asked. He lifted his dick in his hand and pointed it again at her honeypot. He went deep with a single thrust. He smacked her ass and she began to move it for him. Giovanni rubbed the sweaty sheen on her back, and gazed down to her perfect bottom. Her dark brown skin glistened. The cheeks of her ass shook and jiggled after every thrust. In and out he went and loved the cushion pressed to his pelvis. The thick plump lips of her pussy brushed against his ball sack. He loved the perfumed air heavy with her scent.

Bella wasn’t well. Her nightmares were frequent. Her night chills and sweats scared him. But at times like this he offered her pleasure instead of pain. And it helped him forget as well. Forget what another man did to her, what he failed to protect her from. He could pretend that nothing ever came between them. It was thanks to moments like these that he was reminded why she was his queen.

Giovanni gripped both of her hips and held her still. He thrust faster and faster, pummeling her pussy until he reached the ultimate release. And then Giovanni exploded, and didn't let her go until every drop of his seed was spilled.

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