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A word for it? I wasn’t sure I had one except for a word he’d used earlier. “Heaven,” I said as I dug my heels into the small of his back, urging him deeper.
The heat in his hooded eyes grew hotter. A wildfire, but I had no more than a second to think about it before he slid out of my pussy until only the plump head of him was inside me. And then he slammed back in. Deep. So bloody deep.
My heart pounded as my breath came in heavy gasps. It felt like every fiber of my body was sparking.
He fucked me harder.
Deeper.
The coil wound up tighter.
“Come for me,perla,”he commanded. “I want to feel you coming all over my cock.”
Perhaps it was only perfect timing, but the moment the words were out, the coil inside me sprung free and white-hot pleasure rocketed through my veins, coursing from my pussy all the way to my fingertips and toes.
I screamed; the sound of my own voice was loud even to me.
He was close. I could feel his cock swelling inside me as he thrust in once, then twice.
“Christ. Fuck. Oh fuck,”he shouted as he went still, spurting his come deep inside my body.
I dropped my head back as my inner walls continued to spasm around him. I felt sated in a way sex had never managed to make me feel before. Rather than just a physical workout, it was like he’d worked me, mind, body, and spirit.
And now, it was over. I waited for him to pull out, to flop back on the bed and start snoring, like Elio tended to do. But when he finally withdrew from my body, he ditched the condom in a rubbish bin by the bed and started to dress, once again making me potently aware of the power differential here.
His boxer briefs first, covering up that incredible cock with its magical metal. Then his trousers. I hadn’t time to admire his legs before, but they were equally as sculpted as the rest of his body, with long, sinewy muscles down his thighs, lightly dusted in dark blond hair.
He bent down to retrieve his shirt, still without looking at me. I had a feeling this was the silent version of ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’, and that was fine with me. Sex without intimacy; that’s what I’d been after. Great sex, as it turned out.
But when I sat up to retrieve my clothes, he shook his head like he’d been aware of me here watching him the whole time.
“You should probably get some rest,perla,”he said as he threw on his shirt, then leaned down to plant a hard, fast kiss on my lips. “You’re going to need it for the next round.”
So… apparently, this was “wham, bam, let’s go another round, ma’am”?
Chapter Seventeen
Amadeo
What the fuck are you doing?
The question repeated itself over and over in my head as I closed the door to my rooms and headed downstairs.
Thatwas not supposed to happen, and yet I couldn’t help but smile. I certainly couldn’t bring myself to regret it. I’d fucked her so hard, I might have actually fucked all that prim and proper right out of her. Which, I supposed, was too bad. It had turned out to be one hell of a turn-on.
At the bottom of the stairs, I heard voices coming from down the hallway and followed the sound to my father’s office. The door was open; he was sitting behind the desk with two blond heads and one bald one facing him. Vito and Greta, I’d expected, but the other blond head…
“Buongiorno, Cielo,” I said, making my younger brother turn around in his chair. He and I were fairly evenly matched in height and breadth, but Cielo kept his hair shorter, and he was the only one of the Luciano siblings to inherit our mother’s ice-blue eyes. When he was pissed off, those eyes could send a chill straight to the bone.
“Buongiorno, Deo,” he replied as he stood up and crossed the room. He hugged me one-armed and hard, slapped my shoulder, then stepped back, surveying my wrinkled clothes astutely. “You look like shit,fratellone,”he said with a grin.
“Grazie. I don’t know what I’d do without your shrewd observations.”
In Cielo’s defense, it’s what he did; he watched and he scrutinized and he paid attention to every minute detail. On the surface, he was the man who oversaw the family businesses; beneath the surface, he was something else entirely.
At the moment, though, it was Greta’s perceptive gaze that was unnerving me, not Cielo’s.
“Don’t you have a big-ass biker to keep you entertained these days?” I asked her.
