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I huffed in exasperation. “Can’t you help me here?”
He chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss in between my shoulder blades. “And ruin this view? Nah.”
I’m not sure what kind of view existed, me flopping around on my stomach like a beached whale, but I got the pants to mid-thigh and stopped, collapsing on the bed, my hands sliding back to their place under the pillow. “There. Ravage me.”
“Shhhh. You’re ruining it.”
His right hand moved. I felt the brush of fingers against my bare ass, then the firm, confident slide of those digits in between my thighs. “Part your legs a little.”
I parted, my knees digging into the covers, and almost lifted off the bed when he pushed his finger inside.
“God, you’re so responsive.” He withdrew, spread my cheeks slightly, and lined up his cock. Paused.
“I don’t have a condom.”
“It’s okay. Just give it to—“
I lost the words the moment he thrust inside, a thick intrusion that felt so different. Skin to skin. Thick and throbbing, bare and perfect. He pushed fully in, dragged slowly out, and I flexed my inner muscles, clenching him.
He let out a string of filthy curses, the words hissing through clenched teeth. “God, you feel…”
He sat back on his knees, his hands spreading my ass cheeks, and I looked over my shoulder, watching him. His focus was on our meeting, the view of his thick cock sliding in. “I wish you could see how perfect you look, stretched around my dick. So pink. So wet. So fucking delicious.”
He tilted his head and met my eyes. Slowed his movement and then quickened his strokes. I closed my eyes and let out a low groan. Felt the bite of his fingers into my ass. Heard the grunt of his effort. My nipples stood on end, the rut of him see-sawing them across the mattress, the combination of slick bare flesh and sounds building a crescendo that hummed along my skin.
Sunlight. There was the cool air of exposure as he turned me over, pulling off my pants and lowering his body between my legs. He thrust back inside and I wrapped my legs around his muscular waist, my hands exploring the landscape of his chest, his shoulders, his arms. His mouth found mine, his kiss claiming me, swallowing my gasp as he drove fully in. God, had anyone ever filled me so much? Had anyone ever gotten so deep? He broke from my kiss and held his weight with one hand, his other thumbing open the front buttons of my pajama top. He spread open the sides, baring my breasts, his hand reverently moving over the curves.
“So beautiful, Bell.”
I arched under his touch, my nipples aching for stimulation, each rough brush of his finger causing a twinge between my legs. He pinched one, and I moaned. He slid his hand up further, wrapping it around my neck, and I dug my heels into him, fucking him from the bottom. His eyes darkened, holding mine tightly, gauging my reactions. I reached my hand up and placed it over his, squeezing.
“Dirty girl.”
Everything quickened. His thrusts. My breath. The pleasure climbing upward toward my orgasm.
I panted through the hold he had on my neck. “Tighter.”
He tightened his grip and every sensation sharpened. The pound of his cock. The scrap of my nails against his chest. The bite of his teeth on my shoulder. Pushing so deep into me. So thick. So fast. I gulped for air, my eyes closing, everything darkening.
“I’m about—“
The orgasm split me into pieces, a searing jolt of pleasure that took me apart in a blinding burst of sensation. I seized around him, my eyes snapping open, everything spinning, exploding, dissolving. He released my neck, his mouth covering mine, and he stole a kiss at the moment before he cursed, coming inside of me, his orgasm loud and long, beautiful to watch, beautiful to experience, and all mine.
Sixteen
Jackie and Lydia stared at Dario as if they’d never seen a man before. A big, sexy, Italian man—one sitting at the table and eyeing a microwaved Eggo as if it were foreign matter.
“These are … blueberries?” He tilted the Eggo to one side and peered at it.
“They’re chocolate chips.” Lydia intoned.
I closed the fridge door and reached over, pulling it off his fork with my hand and holding it out to him. “No one eats them on a fork. What are you, Mr. Fancy Pants? I saw where you’re from. Laurent used a clothesline for God’s sake.”
He grinned at me and stood, pulling the waffle from my hand and giving me a kiss. He tore off a chunk of the Eggo and chewed. “There. Happy?”
He grimaced and made a big production of swallowing. “Yummy.”
I rolled my eyes and plucked the rest of it from his fingers. “God, you’re a snob.” I stuffed it into my mouth and sat down, working my Nikes on.
