*****
It was the ghosting of warm breath across his bronze skin that left a trail of goose bumps in its wake. It was the hot wetness of Paolo’s tongue as it traced her freckles. The softness of those lush, rose lips on her nipples, the gentle suction that drew them to an over-sensitized point, the scrape of teeth and gentle nipped that make her writhe.
It was the feeling of silk between her fingers and the clean apple scent as she combed her fingers through Paolo’s greasy hair, pushing the dark strands out of his face so she could look into those beautiful onyx eyes, pupils blown wide, color high on his cheeks. It was how soft his tanned skin felt stretched over hard muscle that flexed and danced under her touch. The delicate springiness under fingertips of the veins on Paolo’s forearms as he supported his weight so as not to crush Cora. It was the smooth planes of his hairless chest juxtaposed to the coarse curls of his happy trail and lower.
It was the soft clean scent of his shower-damp skin. The cologne he wore that smelled of melon and musk and made Cora’s stomach flip every time she took a deep breath. It was his taste; the faint saltiness of his skin, the taste of berries and sunshine that was uniquely Paolo. One of Cora’s favorite things was to taste herself on Paolo’s lips. She loved how her own slightly acrid tang mixed with Paolo’s sweetness.
She loved the scrape of Paolo’s scruff on the delicate skin of her inner thigh. The hot, wet velvet of Paolo’s cock as she swallowed him down to the base, the pressure of her tongue just under the head, the suction that made his eyes roll back and the fluttering sensation of Paolo’s head leaking into her mouth that made her fist her fingers in the sheets. She knew Paolo was chuckling at her neediness from the vibrations around his cock that had her hollowing her cheeks in an effort to hold on.
It was the size of Paolo’s hands as they grip her hips hard enough to bruise. The tenderness of his massive paws as they caressed her body or press her hips down while he sucked Cora’s clit. It was the way Paolo could manhandle her, flipping her over, picking her up, pinning her wrists to the bed. It was the way he could hold her close, tenderly as if she were made of glass. It was the way Paolo just knew what she wanted and during sex she wanted Paolo’s hands on her.
It was the way Paolo’s long fingers circled and teased her hole until she begged, the gentleness with which the first fingertip breached her. She loved the way Paolo could read her body, knowing when to open her up painstakingly slow and when to finger-fuck her into the mattress. It was the electric shocks that ran through her, making her privates jerk and leak when Paolo’s fingers found the bundle of nerves and rubbed over them relentlessly.
It was the empty feeling when Paolo’s fingers left her that made her whimper and her hole twitch desperately. It was the blunt pressure of Paolo’s cock head against her entrance, the delicious burn and the pop as he pushed past the first ring of muscle. She loved to put her hand on Paolo’s thigh so she could feel the muscle shaking with the effort of control as Paolo inched his way inside, stretching her to capacity, filling her up and making her whole. It was the burning, the feeling of being so full something would burst that had her panting and gripping hard onto Paolo’s arms. It was the way Paolo kissed her; distracting her while he adjusted with slow, sweet kisses tasting of salt and strawberries that morphed into dirty, ravenous duels for dominance, the little noises Paolo made resonating in her mouth.
It was the expressions on Paolo’s face; the pleasure-pain as he sheathed himself in Cora’s impossibly tight heat, the hard press of his lips together as he fought the urge to thrust in balls-deep. It was the way his eyes closed and his mouth opened the first time he rolled his hips. She liked to press into Paolo’s chest so she could feel Paolo’s moans and gasps reverberate through her body. It was the tickle of the bead of sweat that ran off Paolo and landed on her overheated skin, mingling with her own sweat and running down into the hollows of bone or muscle.
It was the way Paolo stroked her in time with his thrusts, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, increasing the pressure on her clit, turning her into a gasping shaking mess; unsure whether to push back or hump forward. It was the way Paolo would make her come first, making sure Cora was sated before he took his own pleasure. It was the heavy, warm, tingling sensation that crept up from the base of her spine, spreading over her body in waves. Sometimes when they were face to face, Paolo would nuzzle her to get her attention and mouth ‘come for me’, sometimes he’d fasten his teeth on the juncture of Cora’s neck and shoulder and bite down, not enough to break the skin but enough for Cora to shudder uncontrollably with her release. It was the way Paolo’s hips started to stutter and lose their rhythm, his chest heaved, his breathing rapid. Floating on the waves of her own orgasm squeezed Paolo tight and felt him cry out, felt the hot splash of his come inside her.
It was the weight of Paolo as he collapsed on top of her, sweating and panting and wrecked but still careful not to lean all his weight on Cora. It was the way Paolo pulled her in to his arms and kissed her, that goofy sleepy smile on his face. It was the sticky feeling of cooling sweat and drying come, the heavy scent of sex in the room. It was the sensation of Paolo’s seed slowly trickling out of her, down the crease of her thigh and soaking into the sheets.
It was the warm washcloth Paolo brought her, the tender way he pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, the way he pulled Cora in close so he could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as they dozed off. It was the way he pressed a kiss to Cora’s head and murmured ‘I love you’.
*****
At 5AM, no one should be awake. Paolo sighed and rolled over, quickly noticing that there was no warm body next to him. The sound of someone in the kitchen hit his ears as he slowly woke up. “At this ungodly hour…” he mumbled, crawling out of bed and slipping into a pair of pajama pants. He shuffled to the kitchen, and a waft smelling vaguely of egg, cinnamon, and bread greeted him.