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Enzo knows a woman’s body. He knows how to inflict pleasure. He knows how to do everything right.
I grip his hair as he cups my ass and tilts my hips.
When he latches onto my clit and sucks, I have an orgasm that feels as if it’s being sucked out of my body.
We fuck again with me on top, then we take a shower and fuck in there too, once with me up against the tiles, the next on my hands and knees, taking it from behind. We’re like rabbits.
And I cannot get enough of his body.
By the time we get back to bed, I’m spent and need to rest again. We’ve got the stupid polo thing this morning, but I’d rather stay in bed with Enzo.
When I wake again, he’s not beside me and his side of the bed is cold.
I sit up and rub my eyes. Once I go into the bathroom, I just about squeal at my appearance. My makeup is a disaster, and my hair is everywhere.
I quickly wipe my face with the cleansing lotion the hotel provided, hoping my skin won’t flair up because it’s not the usual stuff I use, and I run the disposable brush through my hair.
It’ll have to do until I go back to my own room, but at least I don’t resemble something out of Fright Night now.
When I stare at my reflection, I smile. Hugging myself, I walk back to bed. I don’t remember feeling this happy in forever. Me and Enzo. Just wow.
I know we can’t be a thing, but I want to keep seeing him, in secret. I’m not delusional; I know that outside of this hotel suite, we go back to what we were before. But is that really what he wants? Or is he just doing it because he thinks Angelo will kick his ass.
A more terrifying thought occurs to me; that he won’t want to continue.
Though, he did tell me over and over last night, and this morning, how beautiful I am and how much he loves my body. The man is freaking rock star. He’s so damn hot.
I yawn as I hear the door unlock, and a few moments later, Enzo appears.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says as my eyes find his.
“God, what time is it?”
“Almost ten,” he says. It’s then I notice he’s holding a tray with two coffees and a bag with something in it that smells awfully good.
He passes me a coffee. “Caramel macchiato with an extra shot and half a sugar.”
I look up at him in awe. “How did you know what coffee I drink?”
“I know a lot of things about you, Valentina,” he says, passing me the bag and sitting on the edge of the bed.
I let the sheet fall, and his eyes dip to my breasts. I’m up for round one hundred if he is. We did it so many times, I lost count.
Inside I find two chocolate croissants, and I look back at him. “Are you sure you’re not a man after my own heart?” I laugh.
He rolls his eyes. “As long as I feed you, I’m on the team, right?”
I lean forward to kiss him. “You’re always on my team, E.”
He brushes my hair back, our foreheads touching. I don’t know why, but he holds me there for a second, then let’s me go.
“We’ve got a few hours until the match,” he says. “I could run you a bath.”
Shaking my head, I sip my coffee, then rest it on the side table. I pull out a napkin and wrap one croissant in there, so I don’t get it everywhere. As I take a big bite, he watches my mouth.
“Where did I ever find you?” I wonder as he takes a sip of his coffee, too. “You’re too good to me.”
He gives me a lopsided grin. “Well, you obviously haven’t seen me play polo,” he quips. Then he’s moving off the bed, and a few moments later, I hear the bath running.
