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I nod, but it seems to not be good enough for him.
“Use your words.” He commands, and it’s thrilling.
“Yes, understood.” I hurry to reply. I don’t know what has gotten into me, but I am dying to obey him.
“To the bed. I need you to be still. Your hands.”
“Okay,” I whisper again, incapable of anything more.
He strolls over to me, not taking his dark eyes off mine. He takes hold of the ribbons in my dress and with delicious, teasing slowness, releases them one by one from the back.
My dress falls open while I stand paralyzed under his heated gaze. After a moment, he pushes it off my shoulders. It fills and pools at my feet so that I'm standing naked before him. He strokes my hips with the backs of his knuckles, and his touch resonates in the depths of my groin.
“Lie on the bed, face up,” he murmurs, his eyes burning into mine.
I do as I'm told. The room is shrouded in darkness except for a soft, insipid light from a red lamp. He stands by the bed gazing down at me.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, and with that crawls on to the bed, up my body, and straddles me.
“Arms above your head,” he commands.
I comply and he fastens his tie around my wrists and to the bed stand. He pulls it tight so my arms are flexed above me.
“Color?”
“Green,” I reply, staring up at him, and he visibly relaxes.
“Good girl.”
Then he stands and takes his coat and dress shirt off. He undoes his pants and drops them to the floor. He is gloriously naked. I guess we both disdain undergarments. He has a physique drawn on classical lines: broad muscular shoulders, narrow hips, and abs. He obviously works out. I could look at him all day. He moves to the end of the bed and grasps my ankles, pulling me swiftly and sharply downward so that my arms are stretched out and unable to move.
“That's better,” he mutters, his voice getting deeper.
Picking up the pint of ice cream, he climbs smoothly back onto the bed. Very slowly, he peels off the lid and dips the spoon in.
Scooping out a spoonful of the chocolate chip dessert, he pops it into his mouth. “Not bad,” he murmurs, licking his lips. He looks so freaking hot, sexy, and carefree – sitting on me.
What am I doing here? I should be working! What about the interview? My boss is going to kill me. But then my eyes fall back on Tommaso’s lips, and my anxious thoughts are silenced again.
Taking a spoonful, he lets the ice cream slowly melt on the spoon so that it will drip onto my throat, and between my breasts. He dips down and very slowly licks it off. My body lights up with longing.
“Tastes even better on you, Ella.”
A breathy moan escapes my lips and I pull against the tie around my wrists. The bed creaks loudly, but I don't care – desire is consuming me. He takes another spoonful. Then with the back of the spoon, he spreads it over my boobs and nipples.
“Oh…” I gasp, and then moan, as each nipple peaks and hardens beneath the cool metal of the spoon.
Tommaso bends to lick and suckle all the ice cream off me once more.
It's torture, his hot mouth on me contrasting with the cold.
“Want some?” And before I can accept or deny his offer, his tongue is shoved in my mouth, and it's cold and tastes of chocolate chips and wine. Mmh, delicious.
He kisses my lips and then lowers his head to suck each of my nipples hard. And I try; I try to stay still, but it's hard to ignore the blend of cold and his inflaming touch. But my hips start to move involuntarily, jumping to their own rhythm, caught up in his thrall.
I moan again. A deep and long groan. It's cold, it's hot, it's tantalizing, he doesn't stop. He sucks farther down my body, into my pubic hair, onto my clitoris. I cry out, loudly.
“Hush now,” he says softly as his magical tongue sets to work, and now I'm keening quietly.
