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My heart thumps in my chest and the familiar tingle curls my toes, racing up my body and adding to the fireworks about to go off in my core.
“Show me, little girl.” He rises, lifting his hand from the chaise so he’s free to cover my neglected breast with his palm. His first time touching me properly, even over the silky fabric hurtles me toward the edge. “I want you,” he adds, shoving me over.
My hips thrust into the pleasurable assault and I whimper when he turns the wand down to a dull vibration, knowing exactly how to manage the level of sensitivity for maximum pleasure, my inner walls clenching and throbbing all the way to the very end of my orgasm.
He knows my body better than I do.
He groans as he holds the wand, slick with my release, in front of his face. A tortured look passes over his features and he shakes himself out of the trance, grabbing two clean towels from the table. He dips both in the warm water, wiping one softly between my legs. My hips twist but eventually settle into the soothing touch. He uses the other towel to clean my release from the pink wand and then discards both in a small waste basket in the center of the table.
He abandons the wand next and then gets to work untying me. My legs come together in a blissful ache and he pulls my negligee as low as he can to cover my naked pussy.
His strong hands splay around my waist, and I smile lazily as he helps me to stand, loving the feel his firm fingers holding me up.
“Sei bella,” he mutters, pressing his forehead to mine. “And I’ll never get enough of you.”
CHAPTER TEN
HOLY WATER - ZAYDE WØLF
Leo
It was a mistake not to touch her.
My rationalization was total bullshit. All it did was take away from her first scene. Looking at her now, starved for my touch, just as desperate as I am to worship her flesh, makes me feel like an asshole.
My hands frame her face and she sighs into my touch.
“I’m sorry, Kyra,” I say, leaning in to rest my forehead on hers.
She pulls away and a harsh frown mars her face. “For what? Did you not—do you…regret it?” Her words tumble from her lips and she tries to step back, but I slip a hand around the back of her neck, holding her firm.
“Yes,” I answer, watching her face fall. “But not for the reason you’re thinking.”
My grip on her neck loosens and my hand slides into her dark hair. I wrap my fingers around her thick waves, pulling down to expose her throat so I can claim her hot skin with a swipe of my tongue.
She inhales sharply and her hands reach for my waist, her nails digging into my sides.
I smirk against her smooth flesh and continue my assault. Her responsiveness is addictive.
When I’ve painted a path to her ear of wet, open-mouthed kisses, I tease her lobe with my teeth, my breath eliciting a soft whimper from my girl.
“I should have touched you.”
“Why didn’t you?” she breathes against my cheek.
“I told myself touching you with these hands…” I move down to cup her gorgeous ass with one and splay my fingers across her ribs, stroking the side of her breast, with the other. Blood rushes to my cock when she moans, uncaring of our audience. “I told myself it would make it impossible for me to leave you.”
“Leave me,” she repeats, dazed from my wandering hands.
I trace a featherlight circle around her nipple. “Yes, leave you.” My hand grabs a solid handful of her breast at the same time my other arm rounds her waist, pulling every possible part of her against me.
She gasps as I squeeze her overly sensitive flesh, my cock twitching against her belly as she tips her head back and grants me a perfect view of her wild eyes and her plump, parted lips.
“But I was wrong,” I continue. “Touching had nothing to do with it. When I saw you on those steps, it was impossible to leave you. Then I heard you play, and I knew I’d never want to. And after tonight…watching you come, I don’t know if I’d ever have the strength to. So, I should have touched you. With my hands, with my tongue, with my cock. Because it wouldn’t have changed anything. I wish I wasn’t what I am—a sinner, a killer. But that’s not going to change. You’ll come to hate my hands, my sins, maybe even my dark heart. But I’m not sorry you’re in my arms now, Kyra, because I’m never not touching you again.”
She starts to speak but my lips cut her off. The kiss is a fierce fight of lips and tongues and when we part, we’re panting like we’ve just run a marathon. My heart’s pounding in my ears and I smile as I trace her perfectly swollen bottom lip.
“Yes,” she says huskily, clearly liking the idea of more touching.
