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I smile. I always knew Antonio would grow up to be a handsome man.

He’s buffer than I expected. His neck looks thick enough to support more than that leather necklace he likes to wear, maybe even a tire on a rope, and his arms look ready to burst from the sleeves of his black sports jacket.

He looks even better than I ever imagined.

Wait a second. This is my imagination, right? Or maybe a drunken hallucination is more like it. Unless I fell asleep on the couch and I’m dreaming. Or Antonio’s a ghost. Maybe my father sent him back to me to comfort me, like a parting gift.

Well, I don’t care if he’s a ghost, a hallucination, or a dream. Antonio’s here, and right now, he’s exactly what I need.

I walk up to him with long strides. As soon as I’m standing right in front of him, I wrap my hands behind his neck and pull his lips to mine. They’re firm yet silky smooth. And warm.

So he’s not a figment of my imagination or a ghost. Maybe this is a dream, then? In that case, I’ll do as I please.

I run my fingers through the wavy locks of his hair as I kiss him more firmly, over and over. When he responds, a bolt of excitement shoots down my spine. Heat swells in my breasts. When was the last time I was with a man? Three years? It feels like ages. I can barely remember who it was, but I know this – it didn’t feel as good as how I’m feeling right now. Not even close. This may be a dream, but this thrill, this desire – they don’t just feel real, they’re intense. The shocks and ripples seem to emanate from every inch of my body.

Already, I’m out of breath. My heart seems on the verge of leaping from my chest. A worry creeps into the back of my mind. What if I wake up because this is all too much?

No. I can’t wake up. I don’t want this dream to end. Not yet.

I unbutton his jacket and slip my hands beneath his shirt. My fingertips prance over the hard terrain of muscle – first, the ripped plains of his abdomen and then the hardened flats of his back. I dig my nails into them and he grunts. When I press my palms against the hills of his chest, he pulls away. I look up into warning eyes. There’s no trace of sadness or kindness in them now. Just lust and impatience.

So Antonio can look like this, too. Strange. Whenever I tried to imagine having sex with Antonio before, I imagined him to be gentle. Leo is the playful, passionate one, the aggressive one, the dominant one. After all, he was the one with the penchant for mischief and the uncontrollable temper.

Wait a second. Why am I thinking about Leo now? Damn him. Ever since he stole my first kiss, I can’t seem to stop him from occasionally popping up inside my head, usually at the worst moments, like now. That devil.

I shove him away. This dream, this moment is about Antonio, who I’m happy to know has some fire in him, too. Based on that look in his eyes, I can tell things are just about to heat up.

Good. I’m ready to get burned.

I caress his cheek and rest my head on his shoulder. “Just do it. Please. Just this once. I’ve already waited for so long.”

For a moment, he grows still. Then his arms wrap around me as his lips scorch my neck. My pulse jumps and a moan escapes my lips.

His hands go to my back. His fingers pull down the zipper of my black dress. I take off his shirt and the jacket with it before slipping my dress off my arms. It falls to my waist and I push it down until it drops to my feet. As I step out of it, I wobble and Antonio catches me.

Instead of putting me back on my feet, he scoops me in his arms and sets me down on the divan. Then he climbs on top of me and pins my mouth down. His tongue slips past my lips and slithers against mine.

Now my mouth is on fire. My breast, too, erupts in flames as his hand slips beneath a cup of my bra. His fingers trap my hardened nipple and I pull my mouth away to let out a gasp. The yearning between my legs turns to ache.

“Hurry.”

I hear a chuckle against my ear before his tongue plays with the lobe. His hand travels across my belly and slips beneath my lace underwear. As he caresses my drenched opening, I tug at his hair. The tie holding it together ends up on my fingers. When he slides a digit inside me, I grab his shoulders and let out a cry.

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