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“Just for tonight, let’s pretend –,”
“Pretend what?” He growled.
She bit down on her lower lip, her fingers feeling for the bottom of his shirt. She lifted it slowly, and though it wasn’t intentional, the torturous pace was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. He had to bite back a curse.
“Let’s pretend that you’re not my boss, Luca.”
The gauntlet was laid. Two paths were before him. Her palms glanced across his sides and without answering her, he lifted his arms above his head so she could remove the shirt fully. She had to stand on the tips of her toes to achieve that, her breasts brushing his chest so the decision slammed into him fully formed.
He grabbed the shirt as she passed it over his wrists, removing it fully with a sound of impatience.
“And what if I like being the boss?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer. His mouth crashed to hers, a kiss that brought with it a total bodily release because he had been waiting for this – not a kiss like they’d shared outside earlier, for that had been on borrowed time, with the dinner about to start. This was theirs, a kiss they could enjoy, a kiss shared in private with no chance of interruption. A kiss that would take them where they both wanted it to go. A kiss that was just the beginning.
His tongue tormented her, tangling with hers as his hands stripped her clothes quickly, removing them as though he couldn’t breathe until she were naked, his touch urgent, desperate, hurried. She whimpered when his fingers brushed her nipples, his touch everything she needed, his kiss more demanding, increasing in rhythm with his finger’s touch. His knee parted her legs, brushing her sex, so she found her hips pushing her down onto his thigh, trying desperately to ease the ache that was spreading through her, needing a relief only he could give.
“Please, Luca,” she cried over and over, incoherent, desperate, not even sure what she needed or wanted, just knowing this wasn’t enough. Everything inside of her was bursting to life, flames licking through her.
She arched her back and he dropped his mouth to her breasts, flicking first one then the other with his tongue, circling each nipple until she was dragging her hands through his head in desperation, grinding her hips, pushing herself forward.
His laugh was throaty, uneven. His hands caught her hips, lifting her as though she weighed nothing, kissing her mouth again as he lowered her to the bed, his body weight on top of hers everything she needed, an imperative force, an awakening that stirred her soul to life.
He pushed up on one elbow, spreading her hair around her face with a look of concentration, his breath warm on her temples, and then he was kissing her again, his hand roaming her body, his kiss mirroring the slow exploration, until he reached between her legs, gently brushing the hair at the apex of her thighs.
“Luca.” It was an uneven, wobbly plea. But for what?
No one had touched her there like this. Even with Ashton, sex had been incredibly basic. Goose bumps spread over her skin.
“I don’t know what to –,”
“Cara,” his voice sent pleasure radiating through her. “I am the boss, no?”
She bit down on her lip, surrendering then, moaning as she dropped her head back to the pillow, pleasure snaking inside the pit of her stomach.
“Yes,” she whimpered, and then his finger pushed inside her, swirling against her most intimate, sensitive muscles so she lifted her knees towards the ceiling, digging her toes into the mattress, bright lights bursting behind her eyes.
His tongue moved in time with his finger, in and out, and then he added a second finger, stretching her a little, his tongue unrelenting.
“You’re so wet,” he said into her mouth, and all she could do was make a husky whimpering sound in response.
“So goddamned wet.” He lifted his head for a moment to stare at her as he added another finger, and she ima
gined he was making sure she was ready for him, that he was testing her and preparing her. Pleasure built; she felt heat on her brow, a desperate need exploding through her.
His fingers moved faster, harder, and she tilted her head back, desperate only for the feel of his arousal now, needing more, even than he was giving her.
“Luca,” she cried out, his name like an incantation, one she cried again and again until the syllables ran together, making little sense to anyone but her, and him.
“I know,” he muttered darkly, moving away from her for a moment, so the night air ran over her, briefly dragging her from the sensual haze. She fought that, running one hand over her nipples, the other cruised across her flat stomach to her most sensitive cluster of nerves. His breath hissed from him as he watched her fingers gently roll across her clit, his cheeks slashed with dark colour, an Italian curse filling the room.
He sheathed his erection; her eyes dropped to the enormous size of him, her fingers stilling as – for a moment – uncertainty coursed her veins. He was huge. This was going to feel – she couldn’t say. She knew only that there was no backing out now. She didn’t want to. More than anything she’d ever wanted, she wanted her boss to make love to her, to fill her with his strong masculinity and show her what pleasure felt like.
“Please.”
He growled – this was how they communicated now, apparently. Begging, pleading, cursing and growling.
“Sei sicuro?”
