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Enzo doesn’t rush. He steps in close, fingers finding the zipper at the side of the green dress like he’s unwrapping something he’s been fantasizing about for years. The silk parts. He slides it down my arms, over my hips, letting it pool at my feet.

His eyes move over me slowly, fuller breasts, the soft curve of my stomach, the hips that widened after carrying his son. He doesn’t look past any of it. He looks at all of it like it’s exactly what he wants.

“Christ, Stevie.” His voice is rough. “You have no idea what this body does to me. What it did. What it still does.” His hands settle at my waist, thumbs stroking the faint silver lines low on my belly. “Five years I’ve been living on the memory of you. Memory was a liar. You’re better.”

The words hit deep. I reach for him, pull his mouth to mine, and the last careful distance between us disappears.

He drops to his knees right there on the carpet, green silk still tangled around my ankles. His hands slide up the backs of my thighs, urging them apart and my panties down, and then his mouth is on me, hot, deliberate, worshipful.

He takes his time. Licks slow and thorough, his tongue pressing against my clit, his fingers holding me open.

“God,” I moan as he makes one long, slow drag of his tongue against my slit. “How the hell are you so good at that?”

He flashes me a grin from between my thighs, his lips glistening with my juices. “You bring it out in me.”

I fist my hands in his hair, guide him exactly where I need him, and he lets me. When I come, it’s sharp and sudden, my head tipping back against the wall, a broken sound tearing out of me as he licks, his finger gliding in and out of me.

“Okay,” I say, my vision unblurring. “More. I need more.”

Another grin as he rises, his dick tenting his slacks. “Greedy girl.”

I smirk. “You bring it out in me.”

I’m being cocky, but I’m still shaking from the orgasm as I push him back onto the couch. He goes willingly, his eyes dark and hungry, his mouth still slick from me. He quickly undoes his belt and zipper and pulls everything down. That gorgeous cock springs out.

I climb onto his lap and reach between us, wrapping my hand around the thick, hot length of him. Enzo’s already leaking at the tip, and I drag my thumb across it, watching his jaw clench.

“Fuck, Stevie.”

I stroke him more, loving how hot and heavy he is in my hands. I want him inside like nothing else, but part of me wants to keep touching him, wants to feel the hot splash of him against my hand as I bring him over the edge with just my touch.

But I don’t. Instead, I line him up and sink down slowly, feeling that perfect, almost obscene stretch. He fills me completely, thick and perfect, and I have to pause at the bottom just to breathe around the burning-sweet ache of it.

“You look so goddamn good full of me,” he says, placing his hands on my ass and guiding me into a grind.

I moan, feeling him so deep and pressing against the spot that makes my vision blur at the edges.

“That’s it,” he rasps, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Just like that.”

I brace my hands on his chest and start to move. Slow at first, rolling my hips in tight circles, then lifting and dropping, finding the angle that makes sparks shoot up my spine. I keep my eyes open. I want to see him, want him to see me, my full breasts, the soft give of my belly, everything.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, tesoro,” he growls. “Take every inch. Dio, look at you riding me like you were made for it. Let me feel how wet I make you.”

I do. I set the pace, chasing it, grinding down on every downstroke so my clit drags against him. His hands slide up to my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples, then one hand drops to where we’re joined, and his thumb presses firmly against my clit. The pressure is perfect.

I ride him faster, chasing the edge, and when the second orgasm hits, it crashes through me sharp and sudden. I bite his shoulder to muffle the cry, clenching hard around him, and he groans, gripping my ass and pushing me against his thickness. I press down onto him as hard as I can, making sure he’s buried all the way, as I come.

“Brava ragazza. Just like that.”

Before the aftershocks even begin to fade, he moves. One smooth, powerful roll, and I’m under him. Then he’s turning me, strong hands guiding me, until I’m on my knees on the wide couch, chest pressed into the cushions, my ass up.

He pushes back inside in one deep thrust that knocks the air from my lungs. The angle is devastating. He’s deeper than before, hitting places that make my toes curl, and he doesn’t hold back.

Enzo pounds me like he’s been starving for this and finally doesn’t have to pretend anymore. It’s hard, relentless, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the quiet room.

His hand slides up my spine and settles at the back of my neck. “Still with me, tesoro?”

“Don’t you dare stop.”