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He sunk deep. God he sunk deep.
My heart was full, my bones felt like warm wax, and my core wound deliciously tight around his hardness.
He cradled my head in his arms as he began to thrust into me, starting with slow, heart melting strokes which later translated to a more rapid pace. From here onwards, all I could do was feel; his searing warmth all around me, the harsh sounds from the depths of his throat entwining with the soft whimpers and cries from mine. And the squirming, the shameless squirming. I was like a fish out of water. Not gasping for air, but him. I wanted more, more of him, more sensation, more friction.
As I edged closer to my release I swore and thrashed in his arms, but instead of letting me come he slowed his pace. Again and again, he did that. His hips worked me and my pussy with a level of expertise and familiarity that left me shaken and battered. My vision blurred despite being wide open as I stared up at the ceiling.
“Luca, please, let me come,” I breathed, gasping as the head of his cock stroked that elusive spot inside of me.
“Fuck!” he growled as if he had been holding himself back until that moment. His hips bucked and so did mine as I shattered into a million tiny pieces.
He kept fucking me, his motions although jerky, were relentless. Now I understood why the French called it the little death. Because there was no more of me. No body, no mind, no separation from the rest of the world. I was just a wave of pure bliss connected to everything in the universe.
His hips rocked into mine, milking out every ounce of ecstasy between us until he collapsed onto me with a groan.
“I can’t believe you’re paying me for this,” I whispered. In that moment I realized that if I had known that sex with him could feel this way, I would have gone on my knees to beg for it.
For a second he froze, then he raised his head and chuckled.
I stared at him in shock. My God, he was so beautiful when he laughed. So utterly beautiful. A small answering laugh bubbled out of me. With my arms around him, I crushed his frame to mine, my legs tightening around his waist. These were things that I shouldn’t have dared to do, but I no longer cared.
He didn’t protest so I shut my eyes and basked in the magic of our joining. I don’t know how it happened, but before I knew it I was asleep. When I woke I guessed it must already be morning. The fire was still burning, and around me was the thick biceps of the man I had drowned myself in last night.
The realization immediately squeezed my heart and my chest tightened with emotion.
I had fallen asleep in his arms.
I had fallen asleep in his arms.
I was almost too afraid to breathe. The wonder I felt of being pressed so intimately to him, every inch of my skin plastered to his, and his soft breathing in my neck. Last night I had given myself completely to him.
And now, I didn’t know how to feel.
We still had three weeks left of our arrangement, but I was acutely aware that if things kept going this way, I wasn’t going to be able to depart unscathed. I released a careful sigh again, but then a gentle sound began to thrum across the room. With my heart slamming against my chest, I shut my eyes and went as still as I possibly could.Chapter 29LucaThe ringing of my phone roused me from sleep.
At first I was disoriented, almost perplexed as to where I was which was unnerving. I shot up, immediately on guard. I realized then that I was in my own den. I ran my fingers through my hair sheepishly.
Damn, that was a bad way to start the day.
I realized why things had felt so off balance. For the first time in a very long while, I’d woken up to the warmth of a woman burning against my skin and it had sent a jolt of shock through me. I vaulted to my feet and padded over to my phone and placed it against my ear.
“Pronto,” I said in Italian, and lifted my gaze to watch her.
She was still asleep on the rug, her body lightly covered with one of the thick blankets I had pulled from one of the armchairs and draped over us last night. Inside that intimate warm cocoon I had sunk into the deepest and most invigorating sleep I’d had in years. Her. It was strange and if I was honest, rather wonderful to see her gold head on my rug. I felt a yearning then. To have her here with me at all times, and the very thought made me uncomfortable.
