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‘Okay. But can we discuss this somewhere else? Because…’
‘Because you’re really desperate for a bath? Because you call yourself Charlotte now and have an overdeveloped puritan streak? Or maybe it’s because you’re terrified I might do this…’
He leaned down into her and kissed her. No gentle, explorative kiss, but a kiss that was fiercely, urgently hungry, pinning her back against the door.
Charlotte could feel his hardness pressed against her, and with a stifled moan of desperation she went under.
Of their own volition, her hands reached up and her fingers curled into his still-damp hair, and when he flattened his hand in the small of her back and pulled her into him she didn’t resist. She just couldn’t. It was as if she had been waiting eight years for this moment to happen and now that it had she was powerless to do anything about it.
His tongue was in her mouth, probing and demanding, and when he stopped kissing her it was so that he could do more, reach for the buttons on the snappy no-nonsense blouse she was still wearing, and begin unfastening them one by one. And not nearly fast enough. She helped him, shakily undoing the last, and drowning in a sea of pleasure as he pulled open the blouse, exposing her lacy white bra. Without pausing, he slipped his finger into her cleavage and stroked the sensitive skin between her breasts.
For Charlotte, nothing had ever felt so good. But then, no one had touched her since him. Those familiar hands were like heaven. He pushed down the lacy cups and her breasts spilled out, succulent, plump fruit waiting to be tasted.
Riccardo, always in control of his body, had to steady himself to avoid the unthinkable happening. He had no idea how they had moved so swiftly to this point, but at this very moment eight years had never elapsed. She was all his as she’d been back then. Her nipples were big and defined and rosy with arousal. He teased their erect peaks with his fingers, enjoying those little noises of pleasure she made, and then he sank to his knees so that he could take them into his mouth, licking, sucking, nipping them with his teeth, until he could feel her wanting to cry out but restraining herself.
When he tugged the bra off her breasts bounced free, and he cupped them in his hands and massaged them, while he continued his exploration of her body, first trailing his mouth against her flat stomach, then squatting so that he could ease off the remainder of her clothes, and she helped, stepping out of them, eager to have no barriers between their naked bodies. He blew gently on the soft curls that guarded her most intimate place.
Her fingers were resting lightly on his head, but at that they curled into his hair. When he raised his eyes, he saw that she was arched back, her eyes shut, her breathing quick and shallow.
He dipped into her moist femininity and tasted her, a slow and lingering taste that made her quiver and wriggle against his mouth. With remembered enjoyment, she began to move rhythmically against him, a soft up-and-down slide as he took her higher and higher. His tongue flicked and slid and teased the throbbing bud, but it was only when he stood up, ready to hoist her onto him, that Charlotte opened her eyes and the full reality of her situation sank in.
‘We…we can’t, Riccardo.’
‘Don’t even think of stopping this now.’ Riccardo growled his answer.
‘This is what got us into the situation we’re in now…unprotected sex.’
And so what if it happens again? The thought slammed into Riccardo like a closed fist, almost making him reel backwards from the silent admission. He put that disturbing thought on hold and snatched the discarded towel back up. ‘Then we’ll make sure we use protection.’
