Sofia Milan Romano
When Alessandro tells me he's about to cum, it only gets me to suck harder. He shoots his thick, hot, slightly salty semen deep into my throat. He watches me carefully as I swallow most of it but have to spit some of it out (as to not choke) on the towel he provided for both of us. He grins down at me, his hand moving under my chin to force me to face him as an embarrassed blush makes its way to my cheeks. He leans down, brushing his lips perfectly against mine before flipping me over on the bed.
Our naked bodies skim each other as our kisses turned heated, of his hands locking my own above my head. Even though we both aren't ready for any penetration as you might say, I lift up my hips, so my completely soaked pussy glides along his hard as steel dick. A deep groan erupts from his mouth while we continue to grind on one another. He whispers dirty things in my ear, and it doesn't take long for the both of us to cum all over again.
"How are you feeling, amore?"
"A bit tired but really really good. How are you?"
"I'm happy. I'm glad that you trust me to take control, but I also like that you take some back as well. You're just incredible."
"I'm not letting you have complete dominance over me. Who do you think I am?"
He chuckles huskily -- his voice still a bit breathless -- placing butterfly kisses down my neck. I bite my bottom lip, my eyes fluttering closed at the soft sensations. He squeezes my hip with one hand while the other lets go of my hands to hold my thigh. I run my fingers through his messy hair, cuddling deep into his warmth.
We lay there talking about everything and nothing and soaking in the comfortability that we have together. I love just listening to the sound of his voice as he tells childhood stories. He tells me what he hated most about school and the roughhousing boys he used to spend time with.
He then asks me a question about my own life, and I feel like I don't have much to say. What I don't expect is him to recite one of my favorite poems by John Boyle O'Reilly called Una Rosa Bianca, A White Rose in English. I cannot believe he remembered it. His voice is deep, passion soaking through every word.
"La rosa rossa sussurra di passione,
["The red rose whispers of passion]
E la rosa bianca respira d'amore;
[And the white rose breathes of love;]
O la rosa rossa è un falco,
[O the red rose is a falcon,]
E la rosa bianca è una colomba.
[And the white rose is a dove.]
Ma ti mando un bocciolo di rosa bianco crema
[But I send you a cream-white rosebud]
Con un filo sulle punte dei petali;
[With a flush on its petal tips;]
Per l'amore che è più puro e dolce
[For the love that is purest and sweetest]
Ha un bacio di desiderio sulle labbra."
[Has a kiss of desire on the lips."]
"How did you remember that?"
"I think it was sophomore year when you had to pick a poem to recite for English class. It took you two minutes to dig through your backpack and find it handwritten in your father's handwriting."
"And why do you know that?"
"Because I was, still am, in love with you. I couldn't be with you then, but I can now."
YOU ARE READING
The Mafia's One Desire
RomanceOn one fateful night, sixteen-year-old Sofia Romano had to go through one of the horrific experiences of her life. Ever since, she has been hiding in her room as a shell of a person. She's shy and terrified of little things, but she still is a bit u...
