“Soon, angelo,” he murmured, cradling her in his arms, but only pressing his lips to her forehead.
“You’re mean,” she said plaintively, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.
“I am not the one who walked away every other time we were near one another, cara mio. This is how you left me every single time.”
“You’re punishing me?”
“Not at all. I’m savoring every moment because tonight we will finish this. No?”
He released her as the elevator dinged, watching her closely.
“Yes,” she said because she couldn’t imagine not continuing to touch him and kiss him. Because she had spent years wondering how it would feel to be naked with him. To feel their bodies joined.
Her knees were weak as he led her into his penthouse. She was so filled with anticipation, she didn’t know how to bear it, but she was anxious, too. Should she tell him she’d never actually done this?
He pressed the door closed then crowded her into it.
“This dress,” he growled as he skated his lips across her jaw. “I want to tear it off you, but I want to save it so you can wear it months from now and remind me of tonight. Can you be careful with it, cara mio?”
As he spoke, he drew back enough to pick up the ribbons that fell down the front of her legs and wound them around her wrists, lightly binding them together.
She could easily pull herself free and, if she did, she could easily tear the delicate silk.
“I am asking you to be very still, tesoro mio.” He left the tail of silk around her wrists and used both hands to sweep the straps off her shoulders, then reached behind her to lower the zipper so the front of her bodice relaxed. “Ah.” His sigh was more groan, wafting heat across the swells of her breasts as he bared them. “I have waited a long time to see these beauties.”
His dark eyes glowed and his tone was so gravelly, he made her toes curl.
He lifted her breasts, making them ache as he weighed the small swells in his heavy palms, gently, but she still felt blistered by his touch. Her breasts felt so swollen, she thought her skin would split. She tried to reach for his arms to steady herself and discovered her wrists were tangled in silk.
He made a noise of mock pity and shifted his grip so her distended nipples were in the vee of his finger and thumb. With slow care, he pinched lightly, then bent and licked each one, making lightning shoot into the notch of her thighs.
She twitched and gasped and he sent her a look that warned he had no mercy. He did it again, inciting those electric stabs from nipple to loins.
“Rocco,” she begged.
“Let me have this,” he commanded and sank to his knees. “Let me have you.”
He rolled her high-cut panties down, but left them across the tops of her thighs, just enough to expose her to his gaze. His thumbs swept a caress over her swollen outer lips, then delicately pressed. Parted.
She moaned in an agony of exposure and anticipation.
He dipped his head and pleasure lashed her with the first lick of his tongue. He growled a noise of gratification while she thought her knees would collapse. Her eyes might have been closed. She had no idea. All she could see was white. She felt his hair against her palm so she must have set her bound hands on his head. Her hips were thrusting toward the scorching press of his mouth. Glorious tension began coiling in her with the speed of a tornado pulling inward, upward.
“Rocco!” she cried, falling apart in seconds.
He clamped an arm around her hips, holding her up as he continued to play his tongue against her pulsing clit, drawing her impossibly into an even more aroused state despite the sudden peak of climax.
When she began to approach another crisis, and her fist clenched in his hair, he slowly stood, catching her up into the cradle of his arms as he did.
She cried out, startled. Dazed.
He stared down at her the way a conquering warrior might, cheeks flushed, gaze triumphant and hazed with lust. Her wrists were still bound, her underwear cutting across the tops of her thighs. Her chest was bare, her legs exposed by the falling ribbons of her skirt.
The sleeves of his tuxedo jacket were crisp against her bare back and bare thighs. His arms tightened, while his head lowered and his mouth engulfed her nipple, pulling strongly enough to sting in the most erotic way, making fresh need flood into her loins. She squirmed.
“La mia,” he said in what had to be the most proprietary, barbaric language possible.
She was exhilarated to be his. Eager.
