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A small laugh leaves me. “Thanks, Stitches.”
Salvatore is no less doting and encouraging. While he still has to oversee Nirvana and other business operations, he makes plenty of time for me. He doesn’t voice it out loud, but he seems intent on ensuring our real relationship thrives as much as possible.
The bomb attack from Hector Belini seems to have exacerbated this need in him. At random, he pulls me into deep embraces, latching his arms around me and pressing his nose into my hair as if reminding himself I’m real. I’m alive.
The indulgent moments are small but no less heartwarming. He’s quite literally addicted to me, and I can’t say I feel any differently about him.
We’ve grown intimate on a whole new level. Salvatore looks after me in any way he can. When my wounds are still fresh, he changes my bandages. He helps me shower and tend to my natural curls. He even helps me shave.
“You’re not supposed to be bending over,” he says, grabbing the razor and jar of shaving butter. He points to the shower bench for me to sit down. “I like doing it. Plus, I’m good with knives. Razors are no different.”
I sit as instructed. “I’ve been shaving since I was twelve. It’s part of my weekly routine, like deep conditioning my hair.”
He grins, crouching before me. His warm palms slide over my skin, spreading the whipped butter. “A little extra hair will never stop me, Phi.”
A quick laugh escapes me. “I actually believe you.”
“But this is good too. It gives me an excuse to put my hands all over you. These thighs,” he says, flicking his eyes up to mine with desire burning in their blue-green depths. He presses a kiss to the inside of one and then groans. “So fucking soft.”
“Jon, you’re the only man alive who gets turned on by shaving someone.”
“Any time I get to touch you I consider it a win.”
He isn’t exaggerating.
Our sex life is challenging in the wake of the bomb attack. Because I’m firmly advised against any strenuous physical activity beyond walking, we’re limited in what we can do. Salvatore makes the most of it where he can. He’s more than happy to indulge in other ways.
“I’ve been thinking about tasting you all night,” he tells me as I lay in bed. He’s arrived home from another night managing Nirvana no less than ten minutes before and he’s already impatient to sate his hunger. He rips his shirt over his head and dives onto the bed like a man on a mission.
We meet for a passionate kiss as he slips me under him. I moan in response, loving the deep way he kisses me. My body comes alive with a hot pulse of need I’m powerless to stop; it ripples through me, my pussy throbbing along with it.
Salt and Pepa were perched on the end of the bed, but they leap off and scurry to their usual hiding places whenever we’re annoying them with our X-rated escapades.
Salvatore kisses a trail down my body. He moves from my mouth to my throat, prompting more moans out of me. The affectionate, eager kisses only make me wetter. I can feel my arousal in my panties the lower he travels.
He trails his lips from the space between my breasts and then down my flat stomach. His hands help him along, gripping the strap of my nighty to tug it down and palming my bare breasts. He carries on like that, kissing me anywhere he can until he’s between my thighs and he’s peeling off my panties.
I cry out when he pushes two fingers inside me and flicks his tongue to my clit. I’m squirming in place, grinding against his face as he feasts on me. The friction he creates is mind-blowing. His beard scratches delightfully against the soft inside of my thighs and his tongue brushes over my clit in torturous patterns.
“Yes… just like that,” I pant, working my hips along with him. My fingers find his hair and my eyes clench shut.
I can feel myself falling apart, breaking away into a million little pieces. The pleasure kindles inside me and my skin flushes hot.
The sounds Salvatore makes certainly don’t help—they only make me burn hotter. He groans along with me as he tastes me, as though he’s about to come himself.
I’m dripping wet. I know because I can feel myself as he uses his mouth and tongue to drive me to the brink. His free hand reaches up and squeezes a breast within its hold, adding only yet another layer of pleasure.
The pleasure kindles inside me until it reaches its peak and then I’m gasping. I’m letting go as my orgasm hits me and I’m swept up into bliss. I shiver and go limp. In the seconds after, an elated calm washes over me.
Salvatore crawls up my body with a satisfied glint bright in his gaze.
“Do you know how good you taste?” he asks, kissing me on my lips. I moan into him as our tongues meet and he rests his hand on my breast, tweaking my nipple. “I can’t get enough of you, Phi.”
I’m lightheaded, a post-orgasmic giggle bubbling out of me. I reach up and stroke a thumb along his bearded jawline. “You have some of me on your beard. You always make me so damn wet, Jon.”
“Good.” He drops another quick kiss on my lips. “I love the smell of you in my beard. In my sheets. On my clothes. Everywhere.”
“You’re obsessed.”
