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His hands were already busy at her back, undoing her bra so that it loosened and fell forward. Orla’s arms were still slightly constrained by the dress which Antonio hadn’t pulled off completely. It heightened the sensations building in her body, between her legs where she could feel him.
He pulled the lace cups of her bra down, making her breasts pop free, and cupped them with his hands, thumbs moving back and forth over the hard tips.
Orla’s head went back and she squeezed her eyes shut against the delicious friction. Without even realising it she was already moving against him, up and down, seeking a deeper connection between their bodies. His erection slid tantalisingly close to where she wanted him to slip inside her and she could almost imagine his clenched jaw.
He shifted slightly so that the head of his penis rested at her entrance properly, no more teasing. Orla hovered now, suspended, her thigh muscles screaming with tension. She lifted her head up, eyes opening to look down at that harshly drawn dark face. Antonio had taken his hands off her breasts and put them on her waist, holding her still, poised over him, ready to sink down and take him into her.
Her body seemed to weep with desire, inner muscles already clenching with greedy anticipation. And then in the same moment as he brought her down onto his steel-hard arousal, he bent forward and put his mouth to one breast, encompassing the entirety of her aureole and nipple, and suckled her fiercely.
Orla’s hands went to his head. She bit back a scream to feel him surging up into her body, so thick and hard. Filling her completely, more than her wildest fantasies since she’d been with him last.
His mouth on her breast, his body embedded in hers … she could feel herself starting to splinter already but Antonio had other ideas. He took his mouth off her and looked into her eyes and slowly, masterfully, brought her up and back down, making the tremors recede a bit … but drawing out the torture.
Orla’s hips wanted to move of their own volition, following the urges of her body, and there was an intense battle of wills between them. Both their faces flushed, breathing heavy. She put a hand to the high back of the chair behind Antonio’s head, hanging on to anything she could.
She was rising and falling now, in perfect synchronicity with him. The glide of his body in and out of hers more exquisite than anything she’d ever known on this earth.
Antonio leant forward again and put that hot mouth to her other breast, teeth nipping gently at the hard tip, making Orla want to scream. Her movements got more desperate, frenzied, as she rode him hard. Her hand was in a white-knuckle grip on the back of the chair and then Antonio’s head reared back, leaving her breast as he brought her down onto his shaft with such force that Orla could swear he touched her heart. He was so deep, so hard.
She couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think. Everything was tightening, spiralling, coiling inside her. She couldn’t hold on any more. She was already having mini-orgasms around his length as he drove in and out, ruthlessly.
Orla was almost sobbing now. Antonio cupped her breast possessively, fingers trapping a nipple. Pinching.
‘Come for me.’
A tear leaked from Orla’s eye as she gasped and finally tipped over the edge into the dizzying, sweeping rush of pleasure and heat and oblivion. Her body convulsed around Antonio’s as he still thrust up powerfully and rhythmically … finally surging into her clasping body one last time before shuddering his own release underneath her.
Orla was still in the aftermath. Dazed. Her body was still clenching rhythmically around Antonio’s. Milking him. A part of her ached in that moment to know what it would feel like to have him spill inside her, anointing her with his seed. She resented the barrier. But she couldn’t wrap her head around that rogue thought now. Her brain felt melted.
Finally, as if she’d been held suspended by some greater force, she collapsed forward, her head going between Antonio’s neck and shoulder, breathing roughly against his hot damp skin. The smell of musk and heat and sex in the air.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her there, against him. Their bodies were still intimately joined and Orla, who would have shunned such intimacy with anyone else, burrowed even deeper into Antonio’s embrace. She’d never felt so protected—as if it was just them and this room and this amazing feeling of satisfaction curling through her blood and bones.
At some point Orla felt Antonio move but was too lethargic to help, as he stood up and took her with him. She winced when their bodies were no longer joined and felt him put her down on the bed.
He was disrobing her, pulling her ruined dress down her arms, lifting her slightly so that he could pull it free and down completely. And her bra.
She opened slumberous eyes to see him looming over her and felt pole-axed all over again when her body tingled with fresh awareness. She’d never known it could be like this.
Antonio came down beside her on the soft king-size bed, resting a hand on her belly which quivered. Then he moved that big hand up until it cupped her breast, rousing her again, making her eyes widen and her breath hitch.
When he bent his head to kiss her, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself along his length, moving sinuously against his fast-recovering erection. She wanted him again. As much if not more than she just had.
Antonio pulled his head back for a second and said roughly, ‘What is it you do to me?’
She didn’t know because she could ask him the same question. To drown out the voice of her conscience in her head, Orla furrowed her fingers into his hair, clasping his head. She answered far more lightly than she felt, ‘No talking, Chatsfield.’
And she pulled his head back down and drowned everything out by focusing on this heady rush.
Hours later, Orla woke and found herself draped across Antonio’s broad chest, arms wrapped around him. Mortified, she tried to extrica
te herself but to her surprise Antonio’s arm, which was around her, tightened and he growled softly, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Orla’s heart thumped, hard. ‘Nowhere,’ she whispered, and tried to relax again even though all she could think about was how it felt to have every inch of her body pressed to Antonio’s. His hand started to move lazily up and down her back, fingers barely touching her skin, but setting off tiny explosions of sensations just the same.
She put her cheek back down on his chest and had to close her eyes for a second at the pang of emotion that coursed through her. The light outside the windows was changing ever so subtly. Not quite dawn but the end of the night had come. It made Orla feel absurdly as if they were cocooned from everything.
Something was shifting inside her and she couldn’t stop it. Something very fundamental had changed during that dinner, and afterwards. As if she could deny it or tell herself it was just post-coital bliss, Orla broke the silence. ‘You weren’t sleeping?’ she asked.
