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The room is filled with steam. It fogs the glass shower, nearly blurring Sybil’s naked, perfect curves. I can’t take my eyes away. She’s humming now, reaching up to rinse shampoo from her hair—myshampoo. As she does, her body presses slightly against the glass.
“Fottimi,” I groan at the sight, adjusting my hardening length.
The singing stops, and Sybil opens the glass shower door. Her eyes widen at the sight of me. I know how bad I must look. The blood isn’t just on my hands, after all. I fully expect her to be repulsed and to storm out.
Instead, she smooths her wet hair back from her face. “If I knew you were going to need the shower this badly, I would have used my own bathroom. I just thought…”
She changes her mind about whatever she was going to say and steps from the shower, not looking away even when my eyes linger on all the delicious parts of her. She’s a fucking masterpiece.
“You thought?” I prompt hoarsely, finally forcing myself to look away. If I don’t, I won’t be able to control myself, and I can’t touch her right now. Not when I’m like this and she could still be sore.
Then Sybil takes my hand, and my eyes fly to her angelic face. Angelic it may be, but her expression is anything but. It makes my chest constrict and my cock throb. She gently tugs on my arm, dark eyes dancing with mischief.
Saying nothing, I strip and follow her to the shower, which is practically a small room in itself. She continues to examine me as I rinse off, eyes lingering on my stiffness. When I’m clean enough, I reach for the body wash, but she grabs it first.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you tired before,” she says lightly, lathering soap between her hands. Then she begins to run them over me—over my chest and arms. I watch, mesmerized the entire time. Her gentle touch is intensely erotic. “Bad day?”
I shrug. “Stock market.”
Sybil snorts a laugh at that, walking behind me. I close my eyes when her hands rub along my back and shoulders. I’ve showered with women before, but none have actually washed me like this. When her hands circle around and dip down to squeeze my cock, I groan, clenching my fists.
“Sybil. Tell me you’re not sore anymore.”
“If I was sore, do you really think I would take a shower in your room?”
I turn and pull her close, relishing the feeling of her smooth, soft skin and her breasts pressing against me. She looks too good wet. Too relaxed. I want to work her up and hear her scream my name again.
Before I can lean down to capture her lips, though, she surprises me by dropping to her knees. I suck in my breath sharply when her tongue slides up my length. “Donna peccatrice,”I murmur.
Sybil looks up at me, gently teasing her fingers up and down my cock. “Which means?”
“Learn Italian.”
She smirks and takes me into her mouth, making me choke out a groan again. She bobs up and down a few times, stirring the heat and need building in me before pulling away.
“Maybe I should so I’ll be able to swear at you in your mother tongue.” Then she tips her head. “Isit your mother tongue? I’ve never asked about that. Were you born in Italy?”
“No.” Normally that would be all the reply I’d deem necessary, but I watch Sybil as she strokes me again, rising back to her feet. “My mother was Sicilian. I didn’t speak English much, growing up.”
“Hmm.” She trails kisses up my chest and then points at a tattoo of a skull bleeding into a clock face. “This is violent. Why do you have tattoos? Angela told me the mafia usually avoids them.”
“I’m far from a usual mafioso.”
“Is this one your family crest?” She taps the one on my arm whereAttoliniis inscribed.
“Yes.”
Sybil leans against me again, and I let my hands trail up and down over her hips. I could trace the gentle curves of her body every day for the rest of my life and never tire of them. She reaches up and softly pokes the initials behind my ear. “And this one?”
“For my brother. Johnny Attolini Junior.”
Her gaze softens from playful to understanding. “I’ve thought about getting one for Angela. But I’m not really sure I’m the tattoo type, you know?”
“You are.”
“Of course, you would say that. You’re convinced I’m secretly some kind of bad girl.”
I lean down to kiss up her jaw to her ear. “I don’t think, I know. I told you. You’re broken like me, and you fuck like it. We’re a match that way.”
