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Her back arches, her breasts heaving as she pushes them forwards. “There you go, Rachel.”
Her legs shake as she moves her hip forward.
I fuck her until I feel her muscles contracting before pulling out once again. She is desperate now, tears leaking from the side of her face. Her hands struggle but she remains pulled to the wall. This time I press the heel of my hand to her clit making her jump.
Her mascara-stained tears continue to slide down her well sculpted face. God. She is beautiful.
She is so wet that she is dripping down her thighs. My cock is painfully hard. Instead of giving into temptation, I enjoy taking time to unravel her. When she is close to coming, I retreat again.
She cries and begs and bargains, and finally after edging her over and over again, I decide that she has earned relief. Her hands fall limply to her side, her nipples pebbling and begging for my attention. Instead, I slide to my knees before her and drag the thong to the floor before putting it in my back pocket.
She is absolutely delirious with want.
When I part her thighs and bring my nose to her cunt, she sighs breathily. She smells so decadent.
My hands are occupied unfastening my belt as I nuzzle her wetness. I drag down my boxers and wrap a fist around my cock. My breath alone stirs her so when I lean in and drag my tongue through her wetness, she screams.
My own hand caresses my cock making it weep for relief.
I lick her clit and then place my lips around it and suck. She screams once before coming, her wetness covering my lips and face. I use the other hand to hold her in place as I pull orgasm after orgasm from her warm cunt, and then when she collapses to the floor, I hold her and gently help her to her back. She is spent, and confused and pliant.
I stroke my cock once, using my own precum as lube. Her eyes are heavy lidded, her limbs still shaking as I position myself above her. She watches me as I stroke once and then again, groaning as I cover her tits with my come.
Then I fall onto the floor next to her.
It takes another twenty minutes before either of us can move, and then I lift her off the floor and walk her into the bathroom. We quickly rinse off and make our way to the bedroom.
Then I bend her over her bed, cover my cock in a condom and sink into her.
She comes within minutes and I am right behind her. Then exhausted and completely spent, we both collapse into her bed and drift off to sleep.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Rachel
I wake up groggy and exhausted, the weight of a heavy arm resting on top of me. Panic washes over me as I struggle to piece together the events of last night. Memories flash before my eyes – the dinner with Alessandro, and then returning to my place with him. I carefully lift his arm off of me, his deep breathing filling the room.
Alessandro shifts and rolls onto his back, and I take a moment to study him. His tousled bedhead of brown hair adds to his disheveled charm. My eyes wander to a glinting rosary hanging around his neck and the intricate tattoos that adorn his body.
His back showcases a magnificent lion, its majestic mane and piercing eyes exuding strength and authority. The details of the lion’s fur and the intensity in its eyes make it a masterpiece. It’s a symbol of leadership and courage that leaves me in awe. I want to mark his back with my nails. I want to make him bleed as he thrusts into me. The thought is so acute that I feel a familiar ache between my thighs. What the hell is wrong with me?
A tattoo of crossed keys on his navel is an intriguing piece. There is also the small strip of tantalizing hair dipping below it. I want to run my fingers through it.
I can’t help but trace my gaze over his well-sculpted muscles, hidden partly by the sheet that covers him. My thoughts begin to blur with the events of last night, and I silently retrace our journey from the restaurant to this intimate moment. His fingers in me at the restaurant restroom. His tongue on me in the hallway.
His cock in me when he bent me over…
“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his husky tone catching me off guard. I hadn’t even realized he was awake.
My heart races, and I feel the urge to distance myself. “You should leave,” I blurt out, sitting up and staring down at him. He opens his eyes, revealing a warm shade of brown in the soft morning light that streams through my window.
He shields his eyes from the sunlight with a half-smile. “You really should get some curtains for this place.”
My resolve hardens as I repeat, “You really should go.” His gaze shifts toward me, his lips curling in a subtle smile.
“Sei così bella illuminata dalla luce del mattino,”he remarks in Italian, his voice heavy with sleep. It sends shivers up and down my spine, and I suddenly feel very exposed. “I should go,” he repeats, but makes no move to get up.
His presence beside me feels both inviting and unsettling. As much as I want him to leave, a part of me is reluctant to see him go.
