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Chest heaving, my gorgeous, beguiling wife cups my face and pulls me in for a fiery kiss, her tongue tangling with mine.
Her hands go to my shirt buttons, undoing the first couple. But they don’t give in to her eager fingers fast enough.
With a huff, she rips my shirt open in the middle. She likes doing that.
And fuck if her impatience doesn’t turn me on!
She helps me pull off my torn shirt. Reaching over my shoulder, I grip the collar of my thermal shirt and pull it over my head.
“Fuck, I love your body,” Ella gushes, stepping back to take me all in.
I do the same, letting my gaze travel from her head to her toes, pausing when I reach the swell of her stomach.
My blood rushes south, my cock now straining against the zipper of my pants.
Right, time to move things along.
Taking her in my arms, I kiss her until we’re both breathless, then I lift my angel up until her legs wrap around my waist. Carrying her the few steps to the bed, I sit down with her straddling me. She licks down the column of my throat before making her way back up again and nibbling on my earlobe.
Oh, that feels good.
Don’t get distracted!
Sneaking my hand around her waist, I swing her up slightly and place her face down over my lap.
Surprised, she yelps, her arms flailing, before she grabs my calves to steady herself.
“What are you doing?” she laughs.
I swat her ass. I can’t see Ella’s face for a reaction, but a shudder runs through her body.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“You normally only spank me during sex.”
“Well, I can’t always be so predictable, plus you deserve it.”
“Deserve it? Me?” she asks, trying to sound innocent. “What have I done?”
Leaning over her back, I whisper in her ear, “You tell me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gualtiero
Irubthebackof Ella’s thighs and buttocks to warm up her skin. I’m glad she’s wearing a G-string; it gives me all the access I need.
Unfortunately, it also showcases her delectable bottom, and I feel my cock twitch beneath her.
Focus!
Yet, I can’t help it. My hand strays between her legs to cup her pussy, my thumb massaging her sensitive clit. It swells with my touch, even with the piece of scrap lace between us.
Since my angel fell pregnant, it takes almost no effort at all to get her to the edge—like my Ferrari back in Sicily; from zero to a hundred in seconds. And I enjoy the hell out of bringing her close to tipping over and letting her simmer right there. It drives her wild.
Ella’s hips gyrate, seeking more friction. Not relenting, I keep toying with her… and me. Because let’s face it, by now my cock is begging to be buried deep inside her. Her needy moans and whimpers aren’t helping either. All I want to do is throw her on the bed and ravish her.
But I draw on the strength of my training, honed over decades, to rein in my desire. When Ella’s muscles tense, I know she’s close. She won’t beg though, aware I won’t let her come… yet.
