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“I’m only asking for permission to taste you once, Elle.” His fingertips curl around my knees, yanking my legs in opposite directions, exposing my soaking wet lower lips. “You give it to me, and I’m having you whenever the fuck I feel like it.”
The delightful idea prompts a needy whimper.
“Morning…,” his mouth drops a soft bite on my inner thigh, “noon…,” he drags his teeth toward the one place I need him, “middle of a fucking conference call…,” another bite is delivered, this time so close to my pussy the hot breath alone damn near has me coming. Nero’s brown gaze lifts to mine one last time. “Whenever I need a taste of you, I’ll take it.” He wets his lips slowly, tip of his tongue barely tapping the area. “Is that what you want?”
“Please, Nero,” I beg, fingers twining the locks on his head like they truly belong to me. “Please, taste me.”
His grin grows smug and sexy. “Now, there’s that fucking begging I love.”
Not another word is said.
A single swipe at my clit is swiftly followed by his entire mouth latching onto me. The impact is so unexpected I start to gasp, yet the suction on my swollen nub simply leaves me silently screaming for more. Unforgiving circles are whirled around between sharp sucks. Dips inside are deliciously forceful. He keeps the muscle stiff and strong, thrusting it the way I imagine he wants to with his cock – the way he will when I give him the chance. I impulsively clutch on tighter, rolling my hips into the wild lashes, ceaselessly calling out his name without regard to the men outside who can probably hear us. Bucking into the savage strokes being delivered is almost as brazenly done as my whispered demands for faster. Harder. Rougher. I beg like he wants for him to break me, and Nero doesn’t hesitate to relinquish all restraint he had left. He uses every inch of his face to assist in mouth fucking me. Pressure is applied to my clit in toe-curling intervals. Swift swipes are stolen again and again in his endless pursuit to lap up every bit of me possible. Wetness is smeared along his nose and chin while his tongue dives deeper. While it writes his name. Our name. He ruthlessly whips and curls and carves out not only ownership of my orgasms but of me.
I expectedly shatter, yanking him against my thrashing figure on an orgasmic screech. “Nero!”
Growls of approval are immediately presented adding unnecessary vibrations to the already intense explosion. The pulsations of satisfaction are so seemingly endless that doing anything aside from drowning in the waves of ecstasy is impossible. I maintain my hold on his now messy hair and totally lose myself to the best climax I’ve ever had.
If I’m not a bit more careful, I might end up giving away much more than overdue orgasms to Nero DeLuca.
I might just make the mistake of giving up my heart.
