God Sent Gypsy

Bride-To-Be-Savored (Male Esmeralda X Reader) Part 2 (Fin)

~A/n: well........that took long enough lol~

~Here's the lemon ya'll have been so kind enough to wait for. I sincerely hope it was worth it. Ya'll know I love ya'll 5ever~

~I am making up the Romanian story included, but not the folklore!!~

Without you having noticed it, he had positioned himself at your entrance and pushes himself in till he's fully sheathed. Your head tosses back as you let a broken strain of panting moans that blend with his low growl, palms pressing into his ribs before holding fast to the columns of his flexed back. His pulse has him throbbing hard inside that quakes your legs and every inch of your womb. Mewling, you try shifting your hips only for Esmeraldo to pin you beneath him with his weight.

"Patience, pakvora," he grins with another slow stroke. "You'll get exactly what you desire. But first, you must memorize me, memorize your husband. The feel of me, every vein, every dip, every curve; the sound of my ecstasy, the sight of it, the taste of it. And know that this—" he brusquely slams into you, ripping a swear that you barely manage to catch with your teeth and lips, "Is the man you belong to now, and who belongs to you."

You nod hastily in naïve hope that it'll satisfy his sadistic wishes for your compliance in memorization, and yet his strokes remain measured yet somehow piercingly invasive, completely filling you before he draws himself out to repeat the torturous process. The dips of your heels find themselves lodged in the crooks of his upper thighs as a last attempt to pull and bury him inside you. Such a proper woman you had been before this night: quiet, simple, patient, reserved in your desires. Why has this man corrupted you so deliciously? Ever since you met him, a boiling pool of lust and love has been growing in the pit of your stomach seemingly for this moment of insurmountable bounding, and the way he's penetrating you is spilling it forth in waves you can't control. First your words begin to fail you till they're nothing more than imploring whimpers and your husband's name; second your strength renders your once stubborn legs shaking and limp; and last, you lose the will of your own body, moving to any rhythm Esmeraldo chooses.

You roll up against his body in perfect synch, filling any spaces between the two of you so you're pressed flushed together.

Tiredly, Esmeraldo puts his forehead to yours and smiles, cupping your face with one hand while the other rubs the length of your thigh. He kisses you upon a groaning inhale. He can feel your concentration in your lips, see it in your fogged eyes that stare up into his; he no longer simply feels himself within you, but he can see himself in the burning desire that bites at your bottom lip and occasionally tilts your head back with a low groan.

Finally, your soul is bonding with his.

Abruptly you're yanked forward as he sits back on his haunches and wraps your legs around his waist, your hands instinctively twining in his raven curls. The proud possession in his teal eyes is enough to make you blush. "You're beginning to give in to the passion of a Gypsy," he breathes, all the while slowly undulating up, "Now give yourself to me, sotie. Make me yours like I've made you mine."

At his hands forcefully gripping your backside, you come to your senses and realize what he's requesting. Not only was he giving you control, he was demanding it; demanding his own domination... Something deep inside you purrs at the thought. It's the dark abandon you once feared, the same one that sent you collapsing into his arms that fateful day. All for the sake of a pleasure only he can bring you to. You weren't giving into a Gypsy's passion—you're giving into an uncontrollable yearning for your husband. And the thought of shamelessly indulging in him drives your hips to move out of their own accord, and you watch as Esmeraldo closes his eyes beneath a soft but hard moan.