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We fit perfectly.
“So tight. Such a perfect pussy.” Gio thrusts and continues whispering smutty words of praise. I swear the man hasn’t said this much to me in weeks, but his velvety timbre complements his ravishing and piston-like tempo perfectly.
I didn’t think I could get there again after the pool, but another explosion coils around my center as he increases the tempo. I’m sinking into oblivion again when he withdraws.
“Please,” I whimper, which earns me another chuckle.
He flips me around and pushes between my shoulder blades with one hand while jutting up my hips with the other. He plunges into me and sets a punishing rhythm.
The pool water and our sweat soak into the silky sheets, the slaps of our naked bodies reverberating around the room as we both chase release.
He reaches around me and pinches my clit. “Come for me, Princess.”
“Gio!” His name on my lips does it for him, and as I clench around him he lets go, pulsing inside me.
We collapse, tangled limbs, erratic breaths, and satisfied grins. He rolls over and leaves. The water runs, the lid on the waste basket claps, and then he comes back with a wet cloth.
He flips me over and kisses the insides of my thighs, before he places the warm cloth between my legs, wiping me clean and ripping my heart out with aftercare I never would have expected from him.
He throws the towel to the floor, lies on his back and gathers me to him. He kisses my forehead. “Give me a moment and we can go again.”
I laugh, raising my chin. His eyes are full of mischief.
“If I only knew your workaholic tendencies stretch to the bedroom…”
He fists my hair and drags me to his lips, kissing me with fervor and urgency as if it was our first kiss.
The air explodes with joy, and I’m almost scared that coming down from this high would be a life-threatening endeavor. Hopefully my heart is strong enough.
Something scratches my shoulder and I pull away. Gio got another condom and he’s tapping my shoulder with it.
“Overachiever,” I quip, and he flips me over and clasps both my hands above my head.
“Are you complaining?”
I purse my lips to the side. “Hmmm…” I pretend to think about it, but my theatrics are short-lived.
Gio bites my nipple hard, and I yelp. And then he delivers enough evidence to squelch any complaints. Not that I had them to begin with. But his proof—multiple times—strips me of any doubts that this man is shallow.
He’s deep and profound in everything he does. Fucking included.
* * *
I’m humming with contentment, sprawled in the most comfortable bed. Gio draws lazy circles on my thigh. We’re lingering somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, both of us too spent to continue the orgasm marathon, but refusing to succumb to the darkness.
I don’t know how long we’ve been lying here. We don’t even talk anymore, just a few lazy words here and there.
The bedroom isn’t large, but it has two glass walls and feels—as the rest of the house does—like an extension of the outdoors. We haven’t drawn the shutters. On one side, the dark ocean glimmers on the horizon with a few lights from the yachts anchored around for the night.
The pool lights flicker behind the glass, lending the room just enough light to cast shadows around.
“Is this your house?” I turn to meet Gio’s eyes.
“No, it belongs to my friend Conrad and his wife. I’ve only been here twice before. For a weekend when Conrad thought he lost his girl and needed to get drunk, and then again for their wedding.” The mindless caress of his calloused fingers is hypnotic. I might meow.
He narrows his eyes. “Why are you smiling?”
I bite my lower lip.
