Page 98 of Ricardo

I am methodical.

She is writhing beneath me, making soft, desperate little sounds that go straight to my head.

I follow a trail up the curve of one breast to the nipple, and take it in my mouth again, this time, completely bare. Her body bows, a silent, perfect arch of offering. I suckle, hard, then gentle, then hard again, until she is gasping my name.

"Ricardo...please..."

I lift my head, my own breath coming harsh.

“Cosa vuoi, Julia?”

She blinks up at me, her eyes glazed, her lips swollen.

I know what she wants.

But I want to hear her say it.

“I want…” she starts, but her voice trails off into a moan as I rub my thumb over her other nipple. “I want you.”

“You have me,” I murmur, my mouth trailing down her stomach. “But what do you want from me?”

“I want...everything.”

That's not specific enough.

I tsk softly.

"Try again." I press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her belly button.

She shudders.

"I want...I want your mouth on me," she whispers, her cheeks flushing a deeper red. "There."

I lift my head and look at her.

There is no mistaking what she means.

But it's not quite right yet.

I lift my head and bring my lips to hers, giving her a soft, deep kiss. She responds with a hungry desperation that tells me everything I need to know about how close she is.

I pull back, my forehead resting against hers. "Where?"

Chapter Eleven

Julia

"Where do you want my mouth, Julia?"

His voice is a low rumble, a vibration that seems to go right through my bones. But the tone is unmistakable. This is a question, but it's also a command. He wants me to say it. He wants me to own it.

He's kneeling between my legs, my dress pooled around my waist, my bra somewhere on the floor. His shirt is still on, damp and clinging to his chest, and I can feel the hard lines of muscle beneath the thin fabric. My legs are draped over his powerful thighs, my heels hooked loosely behind his knees.

We are still mostly dressed, and I have never felt more naked in my life.

"Ricardo, please..."

I'm not a prude. I'm not shy. Or I wasn't anyway. I wasn't... before Harrison.