And my fantasy is no longer a fantasy, and Mike is in…
Oh my God. I can’t even say it in my head.
But I can imagine it all so clearly as if it’s possible. I have lived that fantasy a million times before. I hear him say it with all the resolution there is and then…
I close my eyes and picture the old fantasy all again.
I freak out but in a good way. Mike embraces me and lets me sit on his lap. He holds his hand in my hair, massaging my scalp in a way that isn’t at all medicinal. Sensual, designed to drive me half mad with lust.
His other hand rests at the small of my back, his fingers tapping along the top of my butt. His erection startles me as I shift on his lap, and my pussy dampens as if it’s the first time I’ve ever been close to a cock before.
I hold on to his shoulders and lean back, searching his face, memorizing how utterly beautiful he is. The mesmerizing shade of chocolate brown of his eyes. The charming smile. No wonder women fall all over themselves to get close to him.
“You’re staring,” he says, his breathing hard. Just like his cock.
“Can’t help it. It’s the eyes. The face. The body. Hell, it’s the whole package, Mike. You’re gorgeous.”
“Men aren’t gorgeous. Women are. You are.”
I know I’m not, but hey, it’s a fantasy.
When he stands, sliding his hands under my butt to lift me. I wrap my legs around him, my skirt inching higher up my thighs. The room gets a few degrees warmer as he walks me down the hall, not once taking his gaze from mine.
He shoves the door open with his shoulder, and I get a glimpse of wide windows and a cloudless night sky before he places me in the center of one incredibly large, soft, king-sized bed.
Then his body is on top of mine, his hands positioned on either side of my shoulders, holding himself off me by just the barest of inches. I have to lift to brush my breasts against his chest.
“Tease.” He smiles.
“You’re the one teasing. Get down here and kiss me.” I palm the back of his neck and draw his head down.
He utters a low growl as his body presses against me, and I finally taste these lips.
The pressure of Mike’s body feels so damn good I can cry. His cock rubs my skin, and a rush of heat envelops me.
I arch toward what I want more than anything.
“You sure about this?” he whispers, but it’s not really a question.
Still, I love that he asks. My palms frame his face. “Definitely, positively, absolutely sure.”
His lips cover mine, and all reluctance is gone as he takes possession of me, his tongue diving inside. He groans with a seeming desperation that surprises me.
I’m the one who should be desperate. He’s Mike Gennaro. The Italian heartthrob. He holds the record for the Sexiest Man Alive. The king of Hollywood orgies. Surely, he’s been with countless girls. More than one at a time.
His mouth is an amazing piece of artwork, full and soft and devastating my brain to mush. And his hands are big and hot as fuck as they move over me, gently pressing in to sail across each of my curves from my sides to the hips, sliding underneath to cup my ass.
My body shudders in response, throbbing and moistening in all the right places, and I find it hard to breathe.
“You okay?” he asks as he pulls his lips from mine. “You’re breathing kinda heavy.”
“I’m not having a panic attack.” I smile. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
He lays his palm on my racing heart, his fingers resting just under my breast.
“I’m fine. Just don’t stop,” I assure him.
His crooked smile flashes at me. Then he pushes me up on the bed so my head is on the pillows, spreads my legs and crawls between them.
