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Blood thrums in my ears. A light breeze cools the slickness coating my pussy and inner thighs, making me shiver. Raphael gives a small shake of his head, then brushes a surprisingly gentle thumb over the tuft of hair down there.
“They tailor made you to my liking, Queenie,” he murmurs. Then his tone sours. “Of course they fucking did.”
Queenie?I’d thought I imagined him calling me that in the car. Why is he calling me Queenie? But then he drops to his elbows, slides his shoulders under my knees, and licks from entrance to clit. Immediately, I file the thought into a box labeledQuestions for when Raphael Visconti doesn’t have his face buried in my pussyand drop my head against the pillow.
The next hot, wet stroke of his tongue comes slower, punctuated by an angry suck on my clit. I force myself to slow my breathing and relax my thighs, because I know not only will I not survive this, I won’t make it past the next five seconds at this rate.
My blood turns to steam and rises, creating a haze over the bed, growing thicker with every crazed lick and hard suck and guttural groan. Every nerve in my body has slid south and come alive. Jesus, I can’t come already. Partly because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how hothe makes me—although it’s pretty obvious by the sloppy sounds coming from my entrance every time his tongue dips into it—and partly because I don’t want him to know how pathetically inexperienced I am.
I’ve only ever had sex with two men; neither went down on me. Guess there’s not much room for it in the back of a souped-up Honda. They didn’t care about getting me off, anyway.
Despite Raphael’s enthusiasm, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care about my pleasure either. His hands grip me so tightly his busted knuckles disappear into my flesh. He holds me where he needs me, tilting my hips upward to take longer, angrier laps from me.
Right now, I couldn’t care less about his motive. Each lick brings a fresh wave of delirium, bigger and scarier than the last.
“Oh,fuck,” I moan when he swirls his tongue around my clit for a sudden change of pace. He groans in approval and buries his face deeper into me.
The pressure builds, driving me mad, until I’m so close to coming the ceiling breathes above me. I release the bed sheets and dig my fingers into his thick hair, pulling his head back.
Our eyes clash; mine filled with desperation, his blackened with irritation.
“I think I’m gonna—”
“Don’t you dare.”
After a final nip on my clit, he throws me on my hands and knees and closes the gap behind me.
“These. Fucking. Thighs, Penelope,” he hisses. His hands are rough and selfish as they skim up the backs of my legs and palm my ass. “Had to change the uniform because of these thighs.”
Despite my skin humming in anticipation, I frown. “What’s wrong with these thighs?”
He slaps my ass, hard. My head drops to the bed, allowing the pillow to absorb the brunt of my moan.
“They piss me off.”
I don’t have a clue what he’s going on about, but I don’t care. Not when he grips my ass and sinks his teeth into a cheek. White-hot pain carves a frantic path to my pussy, where it settles into a satisfying throb.
“Ow!”
“Shut up.”
“Jesus,” I growl into the pillow. “Thought you were charming.”
A dark chuckle cools my pussy lips. “Not in the bedroom, Queenie.”
“Yeah, no shit. Why does anyone fuck you when you speak to them like—oh, god.”
He slices through my sarcasm by sliding two fingers inside of me. As maddening pressure grows and blooms with every unwilling rock of my hips, a strangled sound rises up my throat and fills the room.
Behind me, Raphael makes a noise of satisfaction. “You’re so tight, baby. You’re so…” His free hand spanks my ass again, loaded with his frustration. “Cazzo. Sei perfetta.”
A shaky sigh escapes me, the neurons in my brain firing with what I learned inItalian for Dummies.
“More,” I mutter into the pillow, not entirely sure I want him to hear me. He responds by pressing his heavy chest to my back, bracing himself with a hand by my head. I turn to look at it. A busted, bloodied paw resting on luxury cotton, it ended a life less than an hour ago. Forme.
I squeeze my eyes shut. The thought shouldn’t bring me closer to the edge.
Raphael pushes his fingers deeper inside me and holds them there. His lips come to the shell of my ear with a loaded question.
