Page 57 of Diego

"Right there?" he asks, pressing again.

My answer is a choked sob.

"You are so beautiful like this, dolcezza," he says. "All wound up. So close." He increases the pressure, the pace, and it's a dizzying spiral of pleasure.

"Diego," I gasp. "I'm... I'm..."

"I know," he whispers, keeping the same rhythm. "Let go. For me."

And with a few more strokes of his thumb, I do.

I shatter. My whole body arches. I cry out his name. A wave of pleasure so intense it's almost pain washes over me, again and again. I'm lost in it. Lost in him.

Through it all, Diego holds me, murmuring sexy Italian words I don't understand, stroking me through it until I'm spent in his arms.

I slump against him, my head on his shoulder, my breath coming in ragged pants.

He gently withdraws his fingers, and I gasp at the sensitivity.

He lifts them to his lips, and I watch, stunned, as he licks them clean, tasting me.

"Molto delizioso," he murmurs. "Very delicious."

My face flames with heat.

"You," I say, my voice shaky, "are something else."

He grins. "I've been told that before."

"I can imagine." I straighten up, trying to regain some semblance of composure. I look down at my disheveled state. My shirt is wide open, my bra is pushed up, my skirt is bunched around my waist.

I just came. I just came on Diego's fingers, which he licked clean. I'm half naked. On the back of a couch at a property I'm showing. To one of the owners. During a fire emergency.

Oh, good God.

I scramble off the couch, quickly adjusting my clothes. "We should stop," I say, my words coming out in a rush. "This is... this is..."

"A very good start?" he suggests, watching me with a lazy, satisfied smirk.

"A terrible mistake," I correct, though it comes out sounding weak even to my own ears.

I try to cover my breasts, but the bra is all twisted and uncooperative. With a frustrated sound, I give up and turn away from him.

But not before I see him trying to stifle a laugh.

"This isn't funny," I shoot back at him, still unable to untwist my bra.

"You're right," he says. "It's hilarious."

I turn back to him, ready with a scathing retort, but the look on his face stops me. It's not just amusement. It's… fondness. And heat.

It's a dangerous combination.

"Let me help you with that," he says, closing the distance between us.

I expect him to unhook it completely. Instead, he reaches into the cup and adjusts my breast until it's nestled back in the cup, then does the same with the other side. He gently smooths the fabric over my skin, his touch lingering for just a moment too long.

Then he reaches behind me, and with a flick of his wrist, the bra is fastened.