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He moved his mouth away, sweeping his lips over her cheek to nibble at her earlobe. ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘You have to ask?’ In response to the low resonance of his voice, her own was a breathless rush.
‘Any time you want to stop, say.’
She turned her head to capture his lips. ‘I don’t want to stop.’
He groaned and muttered something she didn’t understand before kissing her with such passion her bones seemed to melt within her.
His large hand swept over her, flattening against her breasts, trailing over her belly, stroking her, moulding her. And then he followed it with his mouth. When his lips closed over a puckered nipple she gasped, her eyes flying open.
Always she had looked at breasts as functional assets, understanding in a basic fashion that men lusted after them. Never had it occurred to her that the pleasure a man took from them could be reciprocated by the woman—by her. She reached for him, digging her fingers into his scalp, silently begging him to carry on, almost crying out when he broke away, only to immediately turn his attention to the other.
It was the most wonderful feeling imaginable.
At some point he had rolled on top of her. She could feel his erection prod against her thigh and moaned as she imagined what it would feel like to actually have him inside her, being a part of her...
Oh, but she burned, a delicious heat that seeped into every inch of her being, every part alive and dancing in the flames.
It was as if Francesco was determined to kiss and worship every tiny crevice, his mouth now trailing down over her belly whilst his hands...
Her gasp was loud when he moved a hand between her legs, gently stroking his fingers over her soft hair until he found her—
Dear God...
He knelt between her legs, his tongue there, pressed against her tight bud.
What was happening to her?
Never in her wildest imaginings had she dreamed that the very essence of her being could ache with such intensity. Nothing. Nothing could have prepared her.
Oh, but this was incredible—he was incredible...
Right in her core the heaviness grew. Francesco stayed exactly where he was, his tongue making tiny circular motions, increasing the pressure until, with a cry that seemed to come from a faraway land, ripples of pure pleasure exploded through her and carried her off to that faraway land in the stars.
Only when all the pulsations had abated did Francesco move, trailing kisses all the way back up her body until he reached her mouth and kissed her with a savagery that stole her remaining breath.
He lifted his head to gaze down at her. The chocolate in his eyes had fully melted, his expression one of wonder. ‘I need to get some protection,’ he said, sounding pained.
She didn’t want him to leave her. She wanted him to stay right there, to keep her body covered with the heat of his own.
He didn’t go far, simply rolling off her to reach into his bedside table. Before he could rip the square foil open, she placed her hand on his chest. Francesco’s heart thudded as wildly as her own.
Closing her eyes, she twisted onto her side and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. And another. And another, breathing in his musky scent, rubbing her nose against the smoothness of his olive skin.
With trembling fingers she explored him, the hard chest with the soft black hair, the brown nipples that she rubbed a thumb over and heard him catch a breath at, the washboard stomach covered with a fine layer of that same black hair that thickened the lower she went, becoming more wiry...
She hesitated, raising her head from his shoulder to stare at him. How she longed to touch him properly, but there was a painful awareness that she didn’t know what she was doing. How could she know what he liked, how he wanted to be touched? It wasn’t that she had minimal experience—she had no experience. Nothing.
‘You can do whatever you want,’ he whispered hoarsely, raking his hands through her hair and pressing a kiss to her lips. ‘Touch me however you like.’
Could he read her mind?
Tentatively, she encircled her hand around his length, feeling it pulsate beneath her touch. Francesco groaned and lay back, hooking one arm over his head while the other lay buried in her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp.
His erection felt a lot smoother than she’d expected, and as she moved her hand up to the tip, a drop of fluid rubbed in her fingers.
A rush of moist heat flooded between her legs, a sharp pulsation, the same ache she had experienced when Francesco had set her body alight with his mouth. To witness his desire for her was as great an aphrodisiac as anything she had experienced since being in his room.
