Birthday Wishes - The List: Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

legs open. Two steps and he was upon me, still holding his cock hard against my cunt, but not breaching the opening. He held himself over me on one elbow, his body close enough to almost touch, but not quite. He circled his tip at my opening, spreading my arousal and just barely slipping into the gap.
    "Okay?" His voice strained with gritty need, but he waited until I met his searching gaze with my own.
    I gripped his shoulders, my fingers scratching into the muscled flesh and leaving marks he'd see in the mirror for days to come. He winced and hissed, his eyes flashing with dark intent. I adjusted my grip and scraped my nails over his shoulders hard and deep, not caring if I left furrows of blood drops in the wake. He groaned deep and low, his pupils fully blown, but still he didn't stroke forward.
    "Mari?" He circled his penis, moving it with slow, controlled precision. "Tell me."
    "Yes, God , yes." I angled my hips a fraction higher, straining to pull him into me. "Please."
    He nodded, the movement tight and rigid, and pushed his length ever so slowly into me. He moved with incremental precision, giving us time to bask in the feeling as it happened, to savor the building pressure of filling and being filled. I gasped when he reached the back wall of my vagina and still pushed further. He forced himself deeper, stretching me open to accommodate the full length of his erection.
    "Still okay?" He held himself still again, filling me with pressure deeper than I'd ever felt before. He strained against me, his legs trembling with the need to fuck. He thrust just a little deeper, a jab to let me know there was still more when I was ready.
    I clutched him, fingers digging in deep to match his penetration, and wrapped my legs around his waist. I dug my heels into his ass and pulled him closer. The feeling of him inside me was painfully, blissfully, overwhelmingly too much, but I wasn't ready to release him yet. My body wanted more. Release was close, just a few heavy, purposeful strokes away. I could feel him pulsing inside of me, heavy and panting, like his heartbeat lived inside his cock, inside me.
    I nodded with desperation. I was so far from okay I thought I might never find it again, but if he'd stopped at that moment, I would have cried. Full on, wailing with despair, big, wet, sorrowful tears. I needed him inside of me, but I also needed a moment to adjust, to settle into the weight of his body over me, his cock penetrating me.
    "Yes, ready." I flattened my palms against his chest, bracing myself.
    Luca withdrew just as slowly, moving with excruciating care. I was torn between spurring him into action and simply taking the pleasure of the moment for what it was: simple, unadulterated, and impossibly raw. Every nerve in my body screamed for more, more, more, and still I let him dictate a crawling pace.
    He retreated until just the very tip remained inside and I cried out at the loss. My cunt felt empty and abandoned. "Please." I begged without pride or reservation. I flexed my legs, drawing tight around him, inviting him to reclaim me.
    "Yes," he gasped. "You're so open. . .so wet." He swiveled his hips, his cock teasing at my entrance.
    "Luca . . ." I could think of no other words. His name meant everything. I wanted to be filled completely with him .
    He stroked in, swift and firm, bottoming out only to pull back fractionally and slam in even harder, making me cry out in pain and completion.
    "Again." He demanded, his hip bones pressed into me, jutting and bruising my thighs. "Say it again."
    "Luca." He pulled out and stroked in again in a heartbeat. "Luca." He stroked in and out again, punishingly hard and my body quaked. I wouldn't last long at this pace.
    I called his name over and over, a constant, needy litany. His hips kept pace, finding home with ravaging need each time his name passed my lips. I stayed with him as long as I could as the heaviness inside me built to a point of complete consumption. The pressure