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Those flicks were not hurried. But as my breathing grew more rapid, he focused more on my clit, rubbing the moisture from my opening back and forth across my most sensitive spot.
“Look at me,” he said, his raspy voice compelling me to obey. “Watch me when I make you come.”
I wanted to, and I was close. He obviously knew that by the way he was rapidly stroking my clit. But some part of me held back. Despite all the delicious sensations, part of me held back.
Cesare’s dark eyes were on mine as he straightened up. “You’re not getting off this counter until you come.”
His words turned me on, but did he really think it was that easy? Then again, many men did. In the past, I’d sometimes faked an orgasm just so that they could feel good about themselves. But I didn’t want to do that with Cesare. Besides, he seemed to know his way around my body much better than any other man who’d touched me, and I didn’t even know if he’d buy it.
“Stop thinking,” he ordered. “Just feel.”
He slid a hand down my back and palmed my ass, squeezing. With his other hand, he attacked my clit with his thumb while his fingers pushed back inside me—farther this time.
God, his fingers were long. They reached a spot deep inside me that made my toes curl. And still, as I panted and clung to him, I couldn’t quite reach the peak of the mountain I was climbing.
“You’re not at the hospital, dammit,” Cesare growled. “Patients aren’t counting on you. Lives aren’t at stake. You’re a woman, Piper, a woman with needs. Let me fill them for you. Let me take care of you.”
He used the word “let” but he didn’t mean it. No, Cesare didn’t let, he took. He was taking my will from me, taking my thoughts, and clouding the rational side of my brain so that only sensations were left. He squeezed my ass roughly as he pumped his fingers inside of me and my cries filled the room as I got closer and closer.
Then, when I thought I was going to explode, he changed his tune. “Not yet,” he ordered.
What? After he’d just told me to come? I clung to him, gasping for breath, not sure how to ride out the sensations as I quivered on the edge.
Then one long finger curled around my ass cheek and pressed against my opening back there at the same time he ran the back of his fingernail sharply over my clit.
“Now,” he demanded.
Somehow, my body obeyed. I screamed as my muscles tensed. It was too much—his fingers inside me hitting my g-spot while he pressed against my clit and my asshole at the same time. I cried out as I clung to him, my arms and legs trembling as waves of pleasure radiated out from my core.
“Good girl,” he growled, his eyes on my face as I fell apart into a million pieces. “Don’t stop.”
He was the one who didn’t stop—wringing every ounce of feeling out of my body as I clenched around his fingers, trapping him deep inside me.
I could barely breathe, and my vision grew blurry, but the sensations didn’t let up until he allowed it.
He was in charge, and we both knew it.
Finally, he relented, easing his fingers away from my heated flesh. He pulsed me against his broad chest, holding me there. He stroked my hair away from my face and then brought one of his wet fingers to my mouth. I licked tentatively at his index finger before sucking it into my mouth. It felt strange to taste myself, but judging by the huge tent in his pants, it pleased him. He licked his other finger clean as he stared into my eyes.
He held me and stroked my back for a long time as my body regained the ability to breathe. I was torn between just allowing myself to collapse against him—and wanting more.
More won out.
I reached up and pulled his head down to mine. I could taste my juices on his lips—or maybe on mine. I didn’t care—all I wanted to do was to kiss him and be in his arms.
Well, okay, that wasn’t all I wanted to do. Because my hands were already fumbling at the button on his pants. When I got the zipper down, he took over, shoving his pants down his powerful thighs and releasing his cock from the confines of his boxers.
My mouth went dry as I stared at the massive cock that bobbed between us.
“Bedroom,” I gasped, curving my arms around his neck.
He didn’t waste any time, easily picking me up and carrying me into the living room.
“Second room on your left,” I uttered in a husky voice. Not that he’d mistake the bathroom for the bedroom, but I was so eager to get in there. I wanted him in my bed. I wanted to stroke every inch of his body. And I wanted him to touch and taste every inch of mine.
He set me down on my bed, and for a long moment, we just stared at each other, me on the bed, him standing in front of me, both of us naked. My thighs clenched as I stared at his cock. If his fingers had felt big inside me, what would his cock feel like?
I really, really wanted to find out—even if it meant I’d be walking funny for my next few hospital shifts.
