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His words surprise me. And the small hairs on the back of my arms lift in awareness. “Thank you?” It comes out more as a question than a statement. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
Especially not when he’s close enough for me to feel the press of his strong, hard body against my back. He’s still holding me by the back of the neck.
“I want you to say please.”
“Please, what?”
His low chuckle burns through me, and I wish I was naked.
“Just please. Say it.”
He’s demanding, and I can’t think. Not when even the light fabric of the dress is smothering me and keeping me trapped against the heat of his body. He strips the focus away from me until there is only him and the light skimming of his fingers over my skin.
Ricardo nudges me toward the wall and into the cloaking shadows of the alcove where he’d been hiding, a thrill rippling through me. He maneuvers me until my back hits the wall, and I see him standing in front of me with all that dark hair. Like a king, staring at me.
“What are you doing?” I manage to get the whisper out, and his eyes darken further, dropping to trace a line of physical claiming down my chest, my core. As though he can see through the dress to the wetness already pooling between my legs. The desire that hasn’t gone away since I’d sucked him off in the bathroom.
He slowly trails his hands down my arms, across to my torso, and along my hips. I arch against his touch, and Ricardo grits his teeth.
“Do you know how hard it is not to take you right here?” he asks. “I keep remembering how sweet your pussy tastes, and even jerking off in my own shower didn’t stop me from thinking about you.”
I let out a long hiss of air and push my throbbing center closer toward him in a silent plea. “I have no idea what goes on in your head,” I answer. But I love the imagery.
“Then say please, and I’ll give you a taste.”
I’m out of options here, and to be honest, I don’t want them. I only want him as my lips form the word. Please.
He shoves my dress up to my thighs, one hand nudging my thighs apart to give him access as he brushes the tips of his fingers across the already soaking crotch of my thong. My breath catches in my throat through each teasing, probing stroke. His warm, strong hands touched every part of me except where she wanted them most, the skin-on-skin contact.
Ricardo holds my gaze as he slowly hooks a finger beneath my thong and drags it to the side, the light graze of fingernails on my hip a taunt. We don't have the time to waste on gentle touches, and it’s painfully clear he loves the way he’s drawing this out. Loves when I arch against him. He doesn’t kiss me, though. Doesn’t let me give in to the demands of my body wanting to claim his mouth with my own, drive my tongue against his.
I whimper when he finally flicks his index finger through my folds. Ricardo’s small laugh lights a fire in my system, and he uses his other hand to hold my legs open while he strokes.
He slides a finger in deep and I clench around him, the intrusion, stars bursting in front of my face. In the next breath, he withdraws the finger, only to plunge it back inside, pushing the heel of his palm against my clit.
“What are you doing to me?”
There’s only his smile, the dark promise in it, and then he adds a second digit to join the first. Forcing me to ride his hand. I bury my head against his shoulder to keep the noises inside of me from escaping. He shifts only to bring his thumb against the swollen nub of my clit and increases the pressure, circling it in time with his fingers. The two of them crook upward, stroking the inner walls of my channel to increase the pleasure. I bite down on his collarbone and release close enough to have me almost crying out.
His fingers stretch me, and he takes my earlobe between his teeth at last, nibbling. Driving my need to higher and more wild places. I grind against him.
“Isabella.” My name is a growl burning his throat, echoing inside of me while he fills me.
What I wouldn’t give for his cock. For every luxuriant inch of him to take up the spaces his fingers miss.
His thumb on my clit is featherlight, and it’s my undoing, my back bowing away from the wall through the orgasm. Ricardo pumps me through it and refuses to stop touching me until I come down from the sensation with nothing left in my head but stray thoughts of his body, like pieces of dust floating in the sun.
There’s no way I’m able to move. Not when he fingered me until the air left my lungs, and my body is molten, ready to be shaped into whatever he wants me to be.
11
RICARDO
I eventually slip my fingers out from her tight core and lift them in front of my face. Her wetness drips down the sides and glistens in the balmy light from the nearby sconces.
Drago isn’t the type to waste any time. Before dinner, I intercepted the missives between him and Isabella’s family. Sheer fucking luck on my part rather than any real skill. I’d been on the lookout for them, knowing it wouldn’t take long for the first strike of a hammer on an anvil.
His response to my subsequent text was to send his address and a deadline for her appearance.
