Closing my eyes, I let myself relax as he undresses me by the light of the fire. When I’m naked before him, his hard body covers mine, his lips finding the curve of my neck as he plants hot kisses there. My fingers slide into his silky hair as he trails kisses over my collarbone and along my shoulder, making me shiver.
His hands and lips are suddenly everywhere. He drops a kiss on my belly, his thumb sliding down to stroke the wetness between my legs. Opening for him, I guide his head lower until his mouth is so close I can feel his warm breath on my pussy. Without warning his tongue plunges inside me, making me gasp. I spread myself wider for him, giving him better access, my other hand firm on the back of his head as he feasts on me.
Heat from the fire warms my skin. It joins the heat only Dante can flame in me until I’m burning with need. The fire crackles in time with my breathless panting as he tongue-fucks me, bringing me closer…closer.
I clasp both of my hands behind his head and hold him firm as I take control, riding his mouth, throwing my head back. Knowing there’s nobody around for miles, I let loose, moaning as loud as I can. The sounds of my pleasure, echoing off the cabin walls, push me to an even higher level. I’m so wet, so ready to come, grinding against Dante’s face faster and faster.
The fire suddenly bursts in an array of sparks as my climax barrels over me. Gasping through the shockwaves of the orgasm, I can’t help but laugh at the sight of sparks raining down in the fireplace.
“Fireworks for the big finale,” Dante whisper-laughs as he sits back on his knees.
I can see the bulge in his jeans, and even though I’m nearly limp with pleasure, I’m not going to leave that fat cock untasted. Crawling over to him, I unbutton his jeans and work the zipper down. Once his pants are down far enough for his dick to spring free, I push him onto his back and take him in my mouth.
He groans, his fingers weaving into my hair as I begin feasting on him like he did to me. He swells immediately, his hips jerking to the movement of my hot, sucking mouth. I can taste his salty precum, and he’s already so hard that I know he won’t last long.
“Frankie—”
He tries to pull back, but I grip his hips and hold him in place, drinking him down as he explodes in the back of my throat.
“Mmm,” I moan, my mouth full of him.
“Fuck.” He presses himself hard down my throat one last time and then withdraws, his heated eyes on me while I lick my lips and fall back against the mattress.
I watch as he stands and kicks his jeans all the way off, then crouches to rummage through the pockets. “What’re you doing?” I ask.
My eyes are heavy, exhaustion hitting me like a brick.
“Go to sleep,” he says gently.
“I sleep better with you next to me.”
Dante grabs a blanket off the back of the cushionless futon and spreads it over me, then crawls underneath and pulls me close.
“Look at that,” I say, pointing up at the windows full of stars above us.
We lay there, linked together, sighing contentedly at the sight of a million pinpoints of light dotting the midnight sky through the glass. I watch the stars until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer and wake to the sun streaming down where our personal galaxy had been.
Later that morning, we’re back on the road. This time, he doesn’t question my directions.
“Someone’s finally relaxing enough to give up some control,” I tease, ruffling his hair.
“That’s because someone else once told me that good things happen when I trust you,” he says. “And she hasn’t been wrong yet.”
Grinning at his humor, I point to a road sign ahead. “Take the next left.”
Soon, we’ve reached the tiny town of Two Rock. I double-check the directions on my phone and instruct Dante to turn onto a long driveway that leads to a farm populated by several sprawling greenhouses.
“What is this place?” he asks.
“Research,” I admit. “I’ve been wanting to propose some changes to the vineyard, so I actually started emailing with Raya, the owner, last month. She propagates herbs here. She said she’d be happy to meet with me and show me the farm, and since we were in the area…”
“I thought we were on vacation,” Dante says, his voice teasing.
“We are. But all play and no work makes…something-something.”
He laughs at my lame joke attempt, and I’m glad to know I haven’t burst our vacation bubble by bringing him here. Once we park, I spot a middle-aged woman in a pair of classic denim overalls, a long braid, and a flannel shirt approaching our car.
“Raya?” I ask, getting out and waving. “It’s Frankie, from Bellanti Vineyards.”
