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“Take your hands from my hair,” he whispered, the English words husky and heavily accented. When she reluctantly complied, he added, “Now put your hands behind your back.”
She smiled as she obeyed. He’d frightened her with his first demand, making her think he did not enjoy her touch. Now the rush of fear was fading, transmuting to a desire that throbbed between her legs. She needed him. She needed him to take her hard and fast and screaming his name in desperate passion. But he wasn’t going to, not until he was ready, and nothing she did could hurry him.
Her helplessness added yet another thrill zinging through her bloodstream. When he stripped off her shirt and pulled it halfway down her arms, effectively binding them behind her, she laughed from the sheer bubbling joy.
“Why do you laugh?”
“You’ve caught me completely and I’m helpless.”
His brow furrowed. “This makes you laugh?”
“I was already helpless to stop you. Now I’m helpless to urge you onward too.”
“Ah.” He nodded sagely. “But you can speak.”
She blinked in surprise. That’s right. Just because he’d been muttering in Italian as he kissed and caressed her didn’t mean he’d forgotten how to understand English.
He used her moment of inattention to smooth his hands down to her waist, trailing rivulets of pleasure from his fingertips, and a teasing hint of coolness where his silver bracelet brushed against her hot skin. Then, one hand supporting her ass and his arm wrapped securely around her waist, he stood up.
Sam squeaked, instinctively trying to put her arms around his neck for balance, only to find herself hobbled by her shirt and unable to.
“Do not worr
y, mia tesora,” he whispered, his cheek pressed to hers and his warm breath caressing her ear. “I will not let you fall.”
Turning, he placed her on the edge of the recliner’s seat, pulling off her boxer shorts as he did so, then knelt on the carpeting before her. He caressed her hips and thighs before trailing his hands down to her knees. With one quick motion he lifted her legs, spreading them wide, and hooked her knees over the arms of the recliner. Sam’s hips tilted back and she splayed her bound hands behind herself to catch her weight.
Her pussy was spread wide open before Master Giacomo and he was staring hungrily at it. She tried to close her legs but his hands still rested on her spread thighs and in her current position, she lacked the muscle strength to dislodge them. Her pussy heated, throbbing in time to the rapidly escalating beat of her heart and she felt the moisture welling up within her.
He breathed deeply, savoring the scent of her arousal. His eyelids drifted partially closed and he smiled softly.
“A treasure indeed. And you are all mine. Mine to look at.”
His hot gaze traveled up her body, lingering at her swollen breasts with their tight, wet nipples before reaching her mouth and finally, her eyes. Her skin flushed in anticipation beneath his frank admiration, her nipples tightening even further and her lips suddenly felt parched. She darted her tongue out, the quick movement capturing his gaze and he followed the wet path trailing across her lips.
Bracing his hands against her thighs, he rose up and leaned forward, sweeping his tongue across her lips. Her mouth opened on a breathy sigh.
“Mine to taste.”
He looked deeply into her eyes, whether searching for an answer or to ensure she understood his meaning, she had no idea. She just wanted him to kiss and lick her lips again. Mutely she tilted her chin up, lifting her lips to him.
He smiled but returned to his position on the floor. Then he leaned forward and blew softly across her damp pussy.
Sam shivered and moaned with pleasure.
“All mine,” he insisted. Then his tongue plunged between her wet folds.
Dimly she was aware of his hands on her thighs, stroking lightly across her skin or holding her still when she bucked against his mouth. But her focus was on that glorious, heavenly mouth. He licked and nibbled his way along her folds, paying attention to the sensitive skin that was so often ignored, all the while her clit throbbed with growing urgency.
Then he was between her folds at last, stroking his tongue around and across her clit. Sam gasped and tried to buck, only to be pinned in place by his grip on her thighs. She felt the warm rush of her juices, excited at her helplessness.
Master Giacomo chuckled softly and began lapping up her eager flow. She lost all sense of time and place, surrendering herself to the flickering caress of his tongue. Short and quick, long and deep, and gentle, sweeping circles, he knew just how to bathe her pussy to keep her balanced on the knife-edge of arousal without sending her over the edge.
“Master. Master, oh please, Master. Please. Oh Master.”
She moaned his name in a ceaseless litany of begging, the sounds without meaning in the sensual haze through which she drifted.
He lifted his mouth away and she cried out in loss and frustration, her bound hands unable to reach for him.
