Page 109 of Falling for Mr. October

I pause, feeling so nervous and excited that I’m practically buzzing inside of my skin.

I write back,

You’re really on your knees?

Come see.

Bring your friend.

Smiling, I wrap the toy up in a towel, because the last thing I need is for my grandmother to catch me sneaking into Giovanni’s room with a vibrator at the ready.

Moments later, I’m standing in the hallway, then opening his door, the hinges smooth and oiled—thanks to Giovanni, no doubt. He’s been quietly fixing many of the things that have been neglected in this house. Chores I have no doubt my brother would do if he weren’t overwhelmed with being the only handy person around.

As soon as the door opens, I see him waiting for me on his knees, and the breath leaves my lungs as I shut it behind me. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of tented athletic shorts, and so much more desirable in person than he was headless on my screen. He’s staring up at me, his hands clasped together in supplication, so seductive it makes my knees weak.

He gives me a wicked smile. “Will you introduce me to your friend, Bianca? I’ve been wanting to meet them for a long time now.”

I laugh, raising a hand to cover my mouth. Then I practically sprint over to him, getting down on my knees too, and bury my face in his chest. “I can’t believe you’ve been listening to me, you jerk. You should have said something.”

He guides me back slightly so he can look at me. “Yes, I should have said, Bianca, I noticed you’ve been pleasuring yourself at night. Would you let me prove I can do a better job of it?”

My face is hot again, but I don’t try to hide from him, or from this out-of-control need pumping through my veins. “I believe in being direct, yes. You could have asked.”

He runs his fingers across my shoulder, brushing the strap of my nightgown to the side—and groans as he glides his fingers over my exposed breast.

“Maybe I wasn’t feeling so confident after you told me I was a bad kisser.” He smiles as he leans down and claims my nipple with his lips, running the tip of his tongue around it.

I hit him softly with the towel-wrapped vibrator—and inadvertently turn it on.

He captures my laughter in a kiss. This one is completely different from the kiss we stole earlier in the micro-orchard in Gallagher Park. It’s full of fierce need, our mouths seeking more of each other, but after a few seconds, he pulls back, panting.

“You’re in a rush to use this, Bianca. Don’t worry, I’ll learn how.” He takes the vibrator, still buzzing, from my hand, and lets the towel fall away from it to pool at his feet.

“You will?” I ask, allowing a hint of a challenge seep into my voice.

“I think I can figure out the general principle. Why don’t you stand up and press your palms on the bed? I think I’d like to make you come at least twice tonight. Once with your friend and once with my cock.”

“Don’t you make promises you won’t keep,” I say, because I have to say something smart-ass, or I might just melt into a puddle at his feet.

“I never do that.”

Warmth floods me, because I know it’s true.

I stand up and start to brush the other strap of the nightgown loose so I can step out of it, but he stops me with a resolute shake of his head.

“No, I’m begging you, keep it on. You’re a vision in green.”

I tilt my head, still playing with the strap.

“And in black,” he adds, his lips curling upward. “Of course you are. Donna della notte.”

I laugh, even though my whole body is primed with need and screaming out for more of him. “Did you just call me a lady of the night?”

“So you do know some Italian,” he says, getting to his feet, the vibrator in hand.

“Enough to know you just called me a prostitute.”

“No, that’s not how I meant it.” He leans down and presses a kiss on the hollow where my neck meets my shoulder, sending a shiver of pleasure through me. “You’re a lady draped in the beauty and quiet of night, who always steps into my dreams and takes them over. Every single time. But you can be my prostitute, if you’d like. I’ll pay you in apple pies.”