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“Why?” His warm breath fanned over me, and my eyes snapped shut when his finger came to my entrance.
“I’ve been sweating—”
“I don’t give a fuck. This is you, and you’re mine. All of you. I want to taste you just like you are. I want your perfume all over my skin.” He stuck his tongue inside of me, and his fingers started to circle me.
“Oh my—” I held onto the counter, my thighs already trembling from the rush of pleasure.
“So fucking good,” he mumbled against me, his tongue going back for more and more. He was making mmm noises, the tremble of his voice hitting me as hard as his tongue and fingers between the legs. “Are you wet for me, Leonora? Or is that the shower?”
“You,” I barely got out. “Ahh!” He bit me, but only enough to send more blood rushing to the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“You like when I bite you like that?”
“YES! Do it again!”
“Like this?” He started to nibble and suck, and I started to moan, rocking into his face and touch. The pace was much slower, more torturous, like he was molding me as he made me pliable. A shape that would only fit his hands. And I lost all control. My hips bucked as I tried to prolong my orgasm.
I could barely open my eyes. He slipped his hand underneath my dripping hair and pulled my mouth to his. He tasted like salt and me.
He kept our faces close enough that I could stick my tongue out and lick the beads of water over his lip. “You like the way my mouth tastes with the scent of you on my tongue?”
I tried to bridge the gap, to show him how much I liked how I tasted on his lips, but he held me in place with my hair.
“You want more?” He stuck his tongue out just a little, and when I surged forward, he let me.
Our tongues touched before our mouths crashed.
We kissed as we moved toward the shower, my hands undressing him before we stepped fully under the warm sprays.
The kiss was totally consuming. It swallowed every inhabitation whole.
I had to break it to breathe, but he never truly let me catch my breath. I was constantly a heartbeat ahead, or maybe behind, when he touched me, kissed me, was in the same room as me.
Again, he was right.
This was the moment in Paradiso—the first moment our eyes met from across the room.
He sucked down my neck, making the blood rush to the surface of each spot. My hands reached out for steady ground, but even the tiles were slick. I reached out for him instead, and when my fingertips made contact, he groaned deep inside of his throat. The sound made my uterus contract and my nipples ache.
His mouth moved even lower, and when he closed it around my nipple and started to suck, the moan from my throat met the deep one from his. I was still so sensitive between my legs, and I almost felt like I could orgasm again just from what he was doing to me.
My hand slid down his shoulder, and my palm rested against the frantic beat of his heart. I needed to feel it, to make sure I wasn’t the only one feeling this…immense intensity between us. I kept my hand steady, but it was like I’d pushed him across the shower a second later.
His chest heaved and his nostrils flared like he’d just run a marathon. “Mr. Big” was a pathetic way to describe what was between his legs. It was more like Mr. Monstrous. And it was bobbing with the almost violent motion of pulling away from me.
“Even with all this water, I’m still fucking burning for you.” His voice was as low as his hooded eyes, and it was as warm as the water as it fell over my skin. Droplets had collected on his long, inky lashes, and they ran down his face. Steam rose around him, and his skin was flushed from the heat.
I’d been unsteady on my feet from his intensity a few times. It made me feel caged in with emotions I never wanted to be close to. It reminded me that there was a power inside all of us that wasn’t ours to control or to give. If it decided to go, it just went, whether we wanted it to or not.
That was why falling in love was such a risky gamble. If it wasn’t reciprocated or it was used as a weapon…
I hated that it felt like mine was going to him. But if this wasn’t one-sided…he should feel it too, and like me, not be able to run from it.
He’d shackled me, but he also shackled himself to me.
My feet took the couple of steps that bridged the gap between us. He had no place to move. He was cornered. I set my hands on his shoulders, getting close enough that my nipples pressed against his slick chest, and whispered in his ear, “It’s that moment, right?”
The noise from his throat was a mixture between a growl and a plea. In a rush, he turned me toward the seat in the shower and ordered me to put my hands against it.
