Chapter 73 Caught In His Frame (5)

• Alessandro’s hips drove into Francesca with unrelenting force, each thrust a deep, punishing jolt that made her body quake beneath him. The chaise groaned under their weight, her slick, oiled skin sliding against his as his hand stayed firm on her neck—fingers pressing just enough to feel her pulse racing, her gasps sharp and ragged. Her moans were a mess of sound, high and wild, her nails raking down his arms as she took him, her pussy gripping him tight like she never wanted him to stop. But then he slowed—his rhythm faltering, deliberate—his thrusts easing into something deeper, less frantic, his dick sliding in and out with a heavy, measured pace that made her whimper.
• His hand loosened slightly on her throat, thumb brushing the curve of her jaw as he held her there, pinned beneath him. Her hazel eyes fluttered open, hazy with lust, locking onto his, and he couldn’t resist. He leaned down, crashing his lips against hers—hard, messy, all teeth and hunger. The kiss was bruising, his tongue plunging into her mouth, tasting the salt of her sweat and the faint echo of himself from earlier. She moaned into it, her lips parting wider, kissing him back with the same ferocity, her hands clutching his shoulders like she needed him closer.
• He pulled back, breaking the kiss with a wet gasp, his forehead resting against hers for a beat, breath mingling as he stared into her eyes. Then he started thrusting again—slow, intimate, each stroke dragging out the sensation, his dick filling her completely before sliding back, teasing her walls. Francesca’s breath hitched, her voice dropping into a low, filthy purr as she spoke, her words spilling out between moans. “Dio, you feel so good—stretching me like that,” she murmured, her tone dripping with heat. “Scopami piano—make me feel every inch of you.” (Fuck me slow.)