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I return the kiss, keeping my hands on the counter while fighting the urge to press myself against him. Sensing my need, he pushes the kiss deeper, his tongue finding its way as he lets go of my head. He grabs my arms and places them around his neck, our closeness only hindered by his clothes. I hold onto him, glad I can steady myself as his kiss overpowers me.
Sliding his hands behind my back, he unclips the fastening on my bra, and my breasts spill from the restraint as he drops it to the floor. He runs one hand through my hair, pushing back the loose curls as he steps back, his eyes tracing me with their gaze as if my presence mystifies him.
He moves closer, his fingers tugging at the elastic of my panties. He pulls at them before taking a step back.
“Take them off.” His instruction is clear if a little less fierce than before, but I obey without hesitation this time. I pull the tiny garment from my waist, my thumbs guiding them down my legs as the exposure makes me tingle. I’m about to kick them away when Gianni bends at the knees, scooping up my discarded underwear, and a wave of embarrassment surges through me at the thought of what he will do with them.
“Put your hands above your head.” I raise my arms, the cold of the built-in wall oven behind me giving a slight relief from the heat on my back. My fingers catch on the handle of the cupboard above the oven. Still confused, I watch Gianni move closer to me. He threads the elastic over my wrists and binds my arms to the handle above my head. Once I’m secure, he steps back, observing his handiwork. I’m blushing, my skin on fire, almost matching the burning between my legs.
Gianni moves toward me.
“You’re perfect.” He growls with a resonance in his voice that binds me along with my hands. “Potrei guardarti tutto il giorno.” His words rumble like thunder, rolling from his tongue, lust edging into anger at how he’s controlling me.
“English, please. English.” My voice is faint with a hint of panic that he might wind me up to the point of no return and then leave me hanging, literally.
“I could look at you all day.”
“Gianni…” I want to tell him this is all well and good, but I can’t stand a minute longer unless he does something about the withering state I am in.
A slight grin emerges across his face as he kneels. The sudden unexpectedness of this catches me off guard before I feel his lips on my inner thigh. Delicate and supple, his mouth travels over my skin as I close my eyes and squeeze my hands together in a silent prayer for him to end the agony of anticipation. His mouth is already too much, but as he exhales, his hot breath follows the tiny trail of kisses he’s leaving. Even though I know where he is heading, the shock of pleasure as his mouth covers me is enough to jolt my body against the cupboard. My hands find the metal handle as my legs nearly give out. I pull in a gasp of air. His hands are locked on my hips, his head buried between my legs.
He’s relentless, his tongue pushing inside me, his lips molding themselves to me. The sensation is blinding as I try to claw my way through the building pressure. I won’t be able to hold on much longer as my body screams for release.
He draws back, a vibrancy in his eyes as he stands and unbuttons his shirt. If his mouth and words had not been enough to push me to the brink, watching him undress with the pulsating between my legs would be pure torture. I nearly growl, a guttural sound emanating from my throat at the need for him. I feel feral, wild with lust, as he strips his shirt from his arms. The firmness of his stomach and the design of his torso are sheer perfection. He casually opens the button on his pants, yet with such purpose I can’t take my eyes off him. I hang, waiting for him to remove his pants, but he simply inches them down just enough for me to see the hardness of him under his tight underwear.
I’m trying not to hop from foot to foot. The growing need between my legs is like an endurance test as I watch him stroke his hand over his boxer shorts, pulling at them slightly as he stares at me. I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry and craving him. With methodical ease, he pulls himself from his shorts, his hand still caressing himself.
Predator-like, he moves in and grabs my legs, lifting me by my bottom as I swing myself around his waist, securing my ankles at the base of his back. I pull him close with my legs as he fumbles beneath me. I feel his size inside me, and a surge runs through me as he moves slowly, seductively, teasing me with every inch of him.
I place my head on his shoulder, my lips finding his skin, my teeth grating against him as I try not to cry out as the onslaught of pleasure continues. With every thrust, the gratification intensifies, the arousal swelling as I respond to him. I want to grab him, pull his hair, rake my fingers down his back, and pull him deeper inside me, but my bound hands leave me immobilized and totally at his mercy.
A ripple inside me pulsates, the familiar feeling I’m reaching my peak, but I am not prepared for the intensity with which it hits. It is coupled with the ferocity of Gianni’s climax as he gives one final push, and our bodies shudder together in a moment of pure bliss.
My ankles give way as I remain gripped to Gianni’s body. My orgasm has left me weak. All strength left me in the heat of the moment. However, Gianni remains a tower of strength, holding me tighter as my body begins to slide to the floor while my hands remain fastened to the cupboard.
He reaches up, untying the elastic. My arms tingle, the lack of blood flow has left them feeling like wilted flowers. I slump to the floor, my clammy skin squeaking down the glass front of the oven. I catch my breath and try to regain some dignity. Gianni stands for a second, pulling his pants up and fastening them.
A sudden fear invades me. Will he zip up and go? But he bends down and scoops me up in his arms.
“I need to get you to a bed,” he whispers, his commanding voice gone and replaced with one of compassion. I wrap my tired arms around his neck and lay my head against his chest as he hoists me effortlessly in the air.
“My room is up the stairs. Third door on the right.” My voice sounds different, almost unrecognizable, with a grainy texture that could only be from my heavy breathing. Gianni carries me through the house, confidently finding my room. He pushes the door open with his leg and carries me to my king-size bed. He places me on the end, and my body flops down on the soft duvet as soon as his arms release me. Again, the thought he’s simply putting me to bed and making his getaway fills me with a dread that pulls on my insides.
“Have you had enough?” he asks as he stands at the foot of my bed.
“No.” I quickly sit up, finding some strength from within.
“Good.” He takes two steps forward, closing the gap between us as he undoes his pants for the second time. “Open your mouth.”
I’m transfixed, his words compelling me, desire running through me as I do exactly what I am told.
* * *
I lay enclosed in Gianni’s arms, my body in a state of shock. I can’t quite believe what we’ve just done, that I’m here, and he’s with me.
“I take it you approve of the new look, then?” I ask as I prop myself up on my elbow, my fingers running over Gianni’s chest.
“Yes, but why, Chloe? Was it because of the photograph?”
