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Fuck. Hottest question ever.
Her voice was rough, hoarse even, from her groans, her moans, her cries of sexual frustration. Regardless, she gave him what he asked for, aware nothing she’d said had ever felt truer.
“Yours,” she whispered. “I belong to you.”
He frowned for a split second, the expression one she couldn’t read. Was he confused? Angry?
Had she given him the wrong answer?
The look was there in a flash, then gone again, wiped away by the slow, sexy smile that spread across his face. She didn’t have more than a moment to acknowledge it before her eyes closed, blinded by the powerful orgasm that struck as Elio slammed two fingers inside her, crooking them against her G-spot.
“Ahhhhh!” she screamed, her back arching, her body trembling roughly as a million currents of electricity raced through her.
Elio continued to thrust in and out, giving her no chance to land, to recover.
She was hurtling through space, and gravity had no intention of letting her go.
“Jesus,” she heard Elio mutter, when he finally began to slow his pace. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever fucking seen.”
His words soaked in deep. Liza called Elio a player, but when he said things like that…she believed him. Perhaps it was her inexperience that had her falling for what could very well be his standard lines, but she genuinely didn’t think so. Elio didn’t strike her as the type of man to offer false compliments just to get laid.
“Good for the soul,” she whispered, repeating what she’d said last night, meaning it with all her heart.
Elio didn’t respond. Instead, he rose from the bed, stripped off his clothes, untied the scarves around her wrists, then crawled on top of her. Slipping on a condom, he pushed into her pussy, one long, slow, deep slide. Buried to the hilt, he gave her a passionate kiss.
“Mine,” he murmured, his lips still touching hers, so she felt the word as well as heard it.
Then, he proved exactly how much.
* * *
Gianna pushed her plate away with a groan. “I can’t eat another bite.”
They’d dozed in bed an hour after the last orgasm faded away, so that their breakfast was more accurately lunch.
Elio had mastered his mother’s recipe, and the two of them had gluttonously worked their way through a huge plateful of pancakes.
“Time to work off those calories,” Elio said, after dropping their plates into the sink.
“Oooo,” she purred. “What did you have in mind?”
Elio tapped her under the chin with his finger. “Not that, you sex maniac. What size shoe do you wear?”
She frowned at the question. “Um…an eight. Why?”
Elio walked to a large trunk under the front window, opening it. “We’re in luck. Liza wears the same size.”
She shook her head when he produced a pair of ice skates. “Hell no.”
“What?” he asked, aghast. “You don’t like skating?”
“It’s not a question of liking it. I’ve never done it. Never been compelled to risk broken bones or slashed skin by strapping on knife shoes.”
“Knife shoes?” Elio repeated, laughing.
“Shoes with a sharp blade. What would you call them?”
Elio ignored her complaints as he tugged another pair of skates from the trunk, looking at them fondly. “Damn. I haven’t worn these in years.”
