Page 123 of Ricardo

The words send heat rushing through me, but my stomach tightens too. I have no idea what I am doing. I have never been on top like this. I have never been given this kind of room. This kind of power.

Ricardo’s thumbs stroke my sides.

“Look at me,” he says.

I do.

“There is no wrong way,” he murmurs. “Only what feels good.”

My breath leaves me in a shaky rush.

He guides my hips, helping me to rise up on my knees, until I am hovering over him.

"Just feel,” he says. His hand slides between us, guiding himself to me. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, thick and hot.

Then, he pulls me down, slowly, until he is buried inside me again.

A gasp escapes my lips. The stretch is even more intense this way. Somehow, he feels even bigger and deeper this way. My fingers spread over his sweat-slicked chest as I take him inch by inch.

He watches me the whole time, jaw clenched, eyes burning, letting me set the pace even though every part of him looks strained from holding back.

When I am finally seated fully on him, I stop.

He is so deep.

I can feel him everywhere again, but this time I am the one above him. I am the one holding still. I am the one with my hands on his chest and his body beneath mine.

His hands flex on my hips. I can feel the steady, strong beat of his heart under my hands.

“Beautiful,” he rasps.

The word sends a shiver through me.

I move by instinct, a small roll of my hips.

Pleasure flickers.

Ricardo’s eyes darken. “Yes, just like that.”

I do it again until I find a rhythm that I like, one that grinds my clit against the hard base of his cock.

The pleasure is immediate.

"That’s perfect," he murmurs, his hands now moving up my sides, to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples.

I throw my head back, my hair a fiery cascade down my back, and I let go. I let my body take over, my hips moving in a sinuous, primal dance that is as old as time.

I am no longer thinking. I am no longer second-guessing. I am no longer a shy, insecure woman who is afraid of her own desires.

I am a goddess, riding my consort, claiming my pleasure, my power.

I am Aphrodite, born of the sea foam, rising from the ashes of my past, beautiful and strong and unafraid.

And Ricardo is my Adonis, my Zeus, my Ares. He is the god of this new world I am creating, the god who is showing me the way, the god who is giving me the strength to become the woman I was always meant to be.

“Dio, Julia,” he groans. “Just like that.”

The praise goes straight through me.