We lay in each other’s arms afterwards. I snuggled against him, and his fingers softly brushed across my bare skin.
“How was your first time?” he asked.
“Heaven,” I murmured.
He chuckled. “Good. But how are you feeling now?”
“Wonderful. But… a little sore.”
I was sore, it was true… but it was a delicious soreness because it was the memory of him inside me.
I let my hand drift over his abs… down to his thatch of hair… and caressed his heavy, limp cock. Even soft, it felt enormous in my hand.
At my touch, it began to stir back to life, expanding slowly in length with each of his heartbeats.
“Careful,” he said humorously. “Don’t wake the dragon.”
“The monster…” I added playfully…
Then froze.
The words made me think of the first night I had seen him – because that was what I had called him in my head:
Il Mostro.
Suddenly I remembered how he had bent down and whispered in my ear, You will be my whore. But only for me… and no one else.
Dario felt me tense up. “What is it?”
“…nothing.”
He pushed me gently onto my back and looked deep into my eyes.
“What?” he demanded.
A tear welled up at the edge of my eye and slowly traced its way down my face.
“I guess I’m your whore now,” I said bitterly as I turned away from him.
He put his hand on my chin and forced me to look at him.
“You… are my woman now,” he whispered. “And only for me… and no one else.”
A sob escaped my chest, and I smiled through my tears.
He leaned over to kiss me…
And I kissed him back passionately…
And we made love again.
