The air thickens around us as pure desire takes control of my mind and body. I slide my hand over one of his and lean back against his chest.
His jaw ticks, and his mouth becomes a hard line. I can see the conflict play out in his eyes, and it fuels me. He told me I’m playing a game I can’t win, but he’s fighting a battle with himself, and it’s a losing one.
“You didn’t scare me yesterday, Gio. When you told me how you’d use me, it turned me on.”
He exhales a long, shaky breath and slams his eyes shut. “Jesus.”
I turn to face him. “I won’t tell Damiano, you already know that. No one will ever know.”
“It’s so much more complicated than that.”
“It’s not.”
Taking a step back, I grasp the ends of my satin belt.
His attention moves to my hands, and his eyes narrow. “Martina,” he says, a clear warning in his voice.
I ignore it, undo the knot, and pull the belt out of its loops.
My body thrums with anticipation, heat, and desire, the trio fueling my bravery like a potent mix of gasoline. Darkness consumes his gaze as I slip the robe down my arms and let it pool at my feet.
His gaze drags over me, slow and sensual. He’s older, obviously experienced, but the awe that slips into his expression as he takes me in makes me feel special.
Like I’m the first woman he’s ever seen like this.
A vein in his neck pulses as he allows himself to linger on my breasts. The longer he stays silent, the more my rosé-fueled confidence starts to waver, but then his eyes climb back to mine, and I know I’ve won.
“Fuck,” he rasps.
And then he’s on me.
Moving as fast as a panther, be pushes his hand into my hair and tugs my face to his. Our lips crash together. The kiss escalates so quickly, it weakens my knees, but he slips his other arm around my waist and keeps me steady against his chest.
He untangles his fingers from my hair, drags a burning hot palm to cup my ass, and works the flesh for a few moments. We’re so damn close to each other, you couldn’t slip a sheet of paper between us, but it’s not enough. Reading my mind, he lifts me, and growls into my ear, “Wrap your legs around me.”
He walks us backward into the credenza, and the poor thing creaks loudly as my butt lands on its edge. Something drops, rolls loudly along a surface, then shatters.
“Shit,” I breathe. “What was that?”
“I don’t care,” he mutters against my lips before moving down and pressing his mouth to my throat.
I suspect that even if every piece of china in this house broke right now, he wouldn’t step away from me.
I tilt my head, giving him better access to my neck. He inhales deeply. “You smell like forbidden fruit. Too fucking sweet to be real.” The gravel in his voice sends goosebumps spreading over my skin. His palms tighten on my thighs, and his hips roll against mine.
“Take a bite.” I pant.
He lets out a chuckle and presses his teeth into my sensitive flesh. I moan. My body is a live wire beneath his touch. Digging my heels into the backs of his thighs, I tangle my fingers into his hair, lust carving a path through my lungs.
“I’m going to devour you,” he growls as he pulls me away from the credenza and starts walking us toward the stairs. “You started this, Martina. Remember that when your body is tired and sore from me. Remember that when I insist on taking more.”
Shivers erupt over my skin. He rounds the staircase, carrying me with complete ease, and just as he takes the first step, a flash of movement down the hallway catches my eye.
I squint through the near darkness of the house.
There’s nothing. It must be just my eyes playing tricks on me.
Giorgio reaches the second-floor landing and pauses to press my bare back against the same window he watched me from yesterday.
The surface cools my hot, achy body down for a brief moment, but then he kisses me again, his mouth intent on eating me alive, and flames consume me once more.
I move my hips, my naked flesh rubbing against the fine fabric of his clothes. He moves one of his hands lower and brushes his fingers lightly against my center. “Are you wet for me already, piccolina?”
I’m pretty sure I’m leaving a big wet spot on his crotch. “Yes,” I breathe as his fingers delve deeper. “I spent all day thinking about you. About this.”
He makes an approving sound at the back of his throat and pulls me away from the window. “That’s my girl.”
He carries me inside his room, something primal flashing in his gaze, like he’s a hunter and he just brought home a big prize. Closing the door behind him, he tosses me onto the bed. My back flattens against the soft duvet.
He begins to strip.
His jacket goes first, tossed carelessly onto the floor. Without breaking eye contact, he removes his platinum cufflinks, his tie, his belt. The buckle clanks against the floor in protest before it’s swallowed up by his dress shirt and his pants.
Every molecule of air leaves my lungs as I take in his body. I’ve revisited the memory of him wrapped in a towel often, but it’s true what people say. Memories are unreliable.
The real thing is so much more intense.
He’s so hot it’s unreal. My gaze licks up his powerful thighs, flat abdomen, and well-defined chest.
When he hooks his thumbs over the edge of his boxer briefs, I move to sit on my knees and claw my fingers into the sheets, so damn ready for what’s next.
He tugs them off, and my eyes widen.
Never mind. I’m definitely not ready.
For the first time since we started this, fear scrapes against the back of my mind.
He’s big. So big it seems like a mathematical impossibility for that to go inside of me.
I swallow. “Um…”
He smirks, reading my mind. “Don’t worry, piccolina. We’ll make it fit.”
Wrapping his big palm around his length, he gives it two leisurely strokes. My mouth slackens.
Tentatively, I climb off the bed and approach him. Now that we’re in his bedroom, he appears to be in no rush, and he waits patiently until I stop before him.
A nervous shiver tracks up my spine as I reach for him. He drops his hands to his sides, giving me access, and then says, “Wrap your hand around it.”
I do, and dear Lord, my fingers barely touch. Giorgio sucks in a breath through his teeth. For a few seconds, I just hold him, allowing myself to get used to the strange contrast of soft and hard. Then I give it one shy stroke.
A hand shoots up and curls around my nape. “Keep going.”
I do as he says, my eyes glued to his cock and the bead of liquid that appears at the tip. His abdomen tightens with every stroke, and when I get the courage to look up at him, I see that he’s staring down at me.
Tightening his hold on my neck, he lifts his other hand and drags a thumb over my bottom lip.
“Do you—” I swallow. “Do you like it?”
A corner of his mouth lifts up. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I say shakily. I want to please him.
“I like it a whole lot.” He covers my hand with his. “So much that you’re going to need to stop before I come all over your stomach.” He takes a step forward, forcing me back toward the bed. “This is what you wanted for your birthday, isn’t it?”
The backs of my knees bump against the bed frame. “Yes.”
“You want me to fuck you.”
Heat spreads over my cheeks. “Yes.”
Giorgio gives me a push, forcing me to fall back onto the bed. “Then spread your legs, birthday girl.” He slides his palms under my thighs and opens me up.
My entire body shivers. I’ve never felt more vulnerable, so completely exposed under his gaze.
He lowers to his knees and makes a satisfied sound. “Look at you. So wet. So perfect.”
Without any warning, he makes a slow, thorough lick from ass to clit.
I gasp. “Giorgio.”
He does it again. And again. And again. Until I stop counting and lose myself to the sensation.
I’ve touched myself a few times before, but it’s never felt like this. My heartbeat patters around my ribcage as a tight, warm feeling grows inside my core.
Just when I think I’ve plateaued, he changes his technique, swiping his tongue in circles over my clit and taking turns sucking it into his mouth. My legs begin to tremble.
“Oh. Oh!”
He pushes my hips down, holding me in place while he feasts on me, making the occasional satisfied sound. I tangle my fingers into his hair, throw my head back, reaching, reaching…
“Ahhhh… Oh fuck!”
My world explodes.
The orgasm is a supernova, its brutal power swallowing me up. For a moment, I forget who I am. There’s nothing beyond the pulses of pleasure that consume me.
It lasts a while. When I regain my senses, my body feels languid as if it’s been wrung out. I blink at the ceiling and then push myself up on my elbows, greeted by the sight of Giorgio between my legs.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
He doesn’t grin, but his eyes spark with satisfaction. He wraps his palms around my shaky knees and then stretches his naked body over mine, letting me feel its weight. He braces his hands on either side of my head and traces my face with his eyes.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, piccolina.”
The compliment becomes a million little flutters inside my body. I arch my back, dragging my hard nipples against his chest, and it’s all the encouragement he needs to dip his head and draw one between his lips.
Sparks of electricity travel straight to my clit as he sucks and teases my breasts. My body seems to have forgotten it’s already come, because my core aches for another release. It feels empty. Needy for him.
“Gio,” I moan. “I want you.”
His cock twitches against my thigh as he tears his mouth away and meets my gaze. “Not yet.”
“I’m drenched.”
He moves his hand between us and penetrates me with two of his fingers.
“Oh,” I breathe, the sudden fullness tripping into discomfort.
“Take a deep breath.”
In. Out.
The discomfort eases just in time for him to start moving his fingers in and out of me. The sounds produced make me blush.
“You’re so tight,” he mutters and slides another finger inside of me.
I choke on my next breath. “Ohmigod.”
Our gazes latch on to each other. “Breathe, piccolina. I’m going to take care of you,” he says, dragging his hand over my cheek in a comforting gesture that loosens something inside my chest. “But it will hurt a bit.”
“I know. I don’t care.”
His eyes close for a surrendering blink. “Are you on the pill?”
“I have an implant.”
Taking his fingers out, he settles once again over my body and gives me a long, thorough kiss. “Hang on to me.”
My nails dig into his biceps. Nervousness tangles with anticipation and then turns into something far more vulnerable as the head of his cock presses against my opening.
He pushes in, just a bit, but it’s enough to make the backs of my eyes sting. “Oh God.”
“Fuck,” he swears, dropping his forehead against mine.
We’re close enough to exchange breaths, and I visualize the pain receding every time I inhale his. I can do this.
Moments pass before he drives in some more.
I gasp.
Body trembling with restraint, he lifts his head and meets my watery gaze. A softness creeps into his eyes. “You’re in pain.”
I squeeze him for dear life as silent tears stream out of my eyes, but the pain isn’t enough for me to stop him. I want this so damn badly. I have to be brave.
My head moves back and forth. “I’m fine. Please…just do it.”
He studies me for a moment, nods, and pushes all the way in.
A yelp tears its way out of my lungs, but he swallows it up with mouth. The pain cuts through my center, sharp and stinging, but it lasts only a few seconds before it dulls.
Giorgio distracts me with his kiss, licking the inside of my mouth and nipping at my lips as I pant through the ache.
“You’re doing so well, piccolina,” he murmurs, skimming his lips over my cheek. “You’ve taken all of me.”
His eyes brim with warmth and desire and vulnerability that matches my own. Maybe I’m imagining it. After all, sex makes some people emotional, doesn’t it? It would make sense for a softie like me to get all loved up. But the longer I hold his gaze, the more I’m convinced I’m not just imagining it. Has he ever looked at any other women he’s had the way he’s looking at me?
Jealously runs through me. I won’t ask, because I know the answer I want to hear, and it’s not the answer he’s likely to give me.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not as much anymore.” It’s true. The ache’s receding to make way for an unusual kind of fullness.
When he makes a shallow thrust, tendrils of pleasure begin to unfurl. I moan into his ear. The sensation of him inside of me is surreal.
He does it again and groans. “Fuck. I need to see it.”
Holding my hips, he pulls me along, keeping us connected as he sits up on his knees.
Gaze falling to where we’re joined, his body shudders. He places his big palm over my mound and finds my clit with his thumb. “I’m going to play with you until you’re begging me to fuck you.”
The first strum makes me toss my head back. Everything down there is sensitive and charged, but somehow, he knows just how much pressure I can handle.
“That feels so good,” I moan.
He pulls out of me a few inches before pushing back in. “This pussy is mine. All. Fucking. Mine.”
His words coupled with the things he’s doing to my clit make another orgasm appear at the edges of my awareness.
“Gio,” I pant. “I need you.”
His thrusts grow deeper, but it’s not enough.
“Gi—”
“Beg for it, piccolina.”
Our eyes lock. A hand skims up my chest and stops around my neck. I lick my lips and say the words, feeling them wash over my body like a wave of heat.
“Please, fuck me.”
The sound that tears out of him doesn’t sound entirely human, and when he starts to move, I finally understand just how much he was holding back.
He drives into me with the kind of intensity that could move mountains. My legs wrap around his waist, my arms around his neck. Thank fucking God I’ve adjusted, because if he’d fucked me like this five minutes earlier, he’d probably have split me in half.
“You’re better than I imagined,” he says roughly. “Better than a dream.”
Pressure rises inside me, my core desperate for another release.
“Does your cunt like my cock?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Good. It’s the only one that’ll ever be inside of it.”
My eyes roll to the back of my head even as a tiny logical part of my brain latches on to his words and wonders, “Huh?” Must be his brand of dirty talk.
Removing his hand from my neck, he suddenly pulls out. I don’t have time to do more than let out a whine, because he flips me over, pulls on my waist to get me on my hands and knees, and then drives back inside.
The new angle stuns me. “Oh my God.” He hits a spot deep inside of me, over and over, until stars appear in front of my eyes. I’m close.
Gathering my hair with one hand, he coils it like a leash around his palm and tugs. When my back arches, a satisfied groan follows. “You were made to be fucked like this. I’ve never seen a more beautiful thing.”
I begin to tremble again. My core tightens, Giorgio hisses, and then I’m falling. Literally. My body collapses, and he falls on top of me, catching his weight at the last moment. He pushes in one more time, deep, and then his body tenses with his own release.
As I shiver on the sheets, sandwiched between him and the bed, my body a puddle of pleasure, a realization comes.
There’s nothing better than this.
Nothing.
