Page 54 of Serenity
She stirred. Grabbed my erection. Wiggled around. Slid it inside her heat.
“Duke.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Hmm.”
Her hips swayed. Sluggishly, she relaxed against me. Chest to chest, her head rested in the crook of my neck. With delicate kisses, I gave her tenderness. With every oscillation of her hips, my vigor coursed through her in exchange. A stimulant far better than coffee, my energy roused her awake.
Eyes closed, she rocked and moaned. “You feel so good.”
“You too, Bumble Bee. Shit. You too.”
I rolled her on her back. Dislodging, I dipped my head toward her sweetness. That pretty pussy was calling me to put it on my tongue. I inhaled her scent. Licked her glazed lips. Sucked her pearl. Unwavering and gentle, I got my morning fill of honey. Just before she reached her peak, I drove my dick back inside.
Proficient in swimming through her hive, I massaged the most sensitive parts of her walls. Serenity’s nails dug into my back. Her legs tightened around me. Her finale, intense, elongated, and full of plot twists, was my favorite show. Her walls tightened around my brick-ass dick, and she milked me of all I had to give. She’d sucked me dry.
The single tear rolling down her cheek left me slightly confused. Thumbing away the wetness, my face collapsed into a frown.
“What’s wrong?”
Left and right, her head rocked. She sniffed and sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so profound. You make my body do things outside of its control. I don’t even know where that came from.”
Slowly and sensually, I kissed her, hoping to convey that I felt the same. Something else was bothering her, however. The irksome energy was sensed like an internal alarm system.
“That’s not all. Tell me what else is wrong.”
Rolling onto my back, I sat up against a mountain of fluffy pillows. The need to understand her, to be aware of her every mood, and to remedy her every concern had become instinctual. I was falling. Hard and fast, she’d ensnared me in her fucking grasp.
“I haven’t been on my birth control since we’ve been here, and I don’t think they sell Plan Bs here like in America.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
With an arm sliding behind my head, I pulled her body close with my free hand.
“The way you’ve been coating my walls, I’m bound to get pregnant unless my period beats you to the punch. Why shouldn’t I?”
The announcement of her pending cycle explained her sensitivity.
“Because you won’t get pregnant. Stop worrying your pretty head, Bee.”
Long and hard, her eyes dug craters into my dome. She didn’t press it into an issue. I didn’t subscribe either. We had better shit to do. Sliding from the bed, generous hips on a petite frame and copious ass swayed to the restroom. Serenity was so damn skilled between her legs that I’d refused to pull out. Doing so was an impossible fucking task. She didn’t need to worry her pretty head. My soldiers housed no seeds.
Cornetto and cappuccino filled our bellies that morning. Breakfast was topped off with a walk up the hilly region of Portofino to kill the excess calories. When in Rome, do as the Romans. We were transforming into Italians before our own eyes.
Some shopping on the promenade completed our morning, transforming well into afternoon. Though initially hesitant, Serenity relaxed in my generosity, picking items from the Louis Vuitton store to suit her heart’s contentment. We breezed through Dolce & Gabbana, buying a few bags. She was unimpressed by the selection, so Dior was next.
She was a fan of the Dior Airmaster sneakers. Despite her protests, I encouraged the sales associate to ship one in every color available to her house. The way she bit her bottom lip and fought against a smile left me with a desire to make our shopping trips more frequent. A few dresses and five figures less later, we stalked out of the store and into Ferragamo, my weakness.
Despite the exhaustion of an entire morning shopping in Portofino and Santa Margherita, Serenity talked me into joining her in yoga. A nigga was really making a genuine attempt at it too. We spent the afternoon in bizarre, nonsexual poses. Downward dog. Reverse warrior. Ragdoll. A nigga was truly gone to have even agreed to it. Despite the peculiarity of it all, it left me feeling lighter.
Far too stimulated by the activities day, we opted for a quiet evening. A chef catered our last meal at the house on the balcony overlooking Portofino. Below us, tourists loaded the promenade at every available dining establishment. Boats filled the harbor with fishermen turning in for the day. Colorful buildings pierced a swell of blue and green landscape. Portofino was a fucking beauty, just like the woman seated across from me.
“You have a birthday coming up,” I stated, peeling my eyes from the scenery and sipping the Lambrusco provided for us. It paired well with the lasagna made from fresh noodles and fresh robust tomato sauce.
“I do in a few months. Dirty thirty,” she beamed.
“What’s the plan?”