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“Just move, please.” I tried to ride him, but his hands were not willing to let me move an inch. “Stop torturing me.”
“Why is it torture if you don’t want me?”
“Fine, damn you! I want you!Sasa, please!” I used the nick name I had for him when we were kids. That was his Achilles’ heel. Every time I called himSasa, he turned to clay in my hands.
“Damn it,Tesoro! Hold on to my shoulders and move.”
With my nails anchored in his muscle-covered shoulders, and I began riding him furiously. I wanted to feel him fast, enjoy the strength of his body, the power coming from him.
Salvatore was a man who could take on a tiger with his bare hands and win and in this moment, I had him tamed between my legs. There was a certain satisfaction in that which couldn’t be matched by anything else.
He put his hands on my ass cheeks, supporting me every time I raised my body and helping me move faster. We were one, hearts beating the same, both so close to crushing into an orgasmic bliss. I could read the signs of his body – the sweat on his forehead, the vein in his neck – the same way he knew all that I felt. We were aiming for climax, so I locked my knees to the floor and kept moving. His hands were clasped so tightly on the back of my thighs, I was sure there were going to be bruises tomorrow, but didn’t mind.
“Salvatore.”
“Yes,Tesoro, I feel it. Come for me.”
The command threw me over the edge of a heart-shattering orgasm. My entire body exploded in a splash of color, sensations, and sounds. Salvatore didn’t make it any easier. While I was cracking into pieces, he held me in place and moved his hips until his own orgasm hit and he filled me up with his essence. Everything was happening all at once. I could feel a million things. All. At. Once.
“Figlio di puttana[4].” He cursed under his breath. “You’re going to be the end of me.”
If I could answer him, I would have told Salvatore Fiori to go screw himself, but my chest was still burning and the air didn’t seem to be able to make its way into my lungs. Five minutes had to pass for me to be able to move and push away from his chest.
“I have to go. It’s late.”
“Right.” He muttered. “I’m getting fucking tired of going to bed without you, Grazi.”
A flashback from the last time I got to sleep in his arms crossed my mind. There was a terrible storm outside and Salvatore came to my house just to check if I was ok. He sheltered me in his arms from all the raging noises of the unleashed rain and I slept feeling like nothing bad could ever happen to me. Ever. For the longest time, he was my safe place.
“It is what it is.” I tried to build an indifferent façade, not liking where this was going.
“For now.” It gave me chills when he spoke like that. “Don’t shower.”
“What?”
“If I can’t have you in my bed, I want to know my smell is on your skin. Come, I’ll drive you home.”
“I can…”
“Shut up, Grazi. You’re not walking. Take your things.”
“You’re going to have to wait. I need to lock the studio up. I’m the only one left.”
“Waiting for you is all I do. Go.”
I had to go change and then check a few things; make sure all was in order. With every step I took, I felt watched – which I was. Salvatore stayed in the shadows, completely silent, and looked over me. It wasn’t something that freaked me out. I grew up with people watching over me – my father, my brothers, guards, and then, when I was sixteen, Salvatore took that responsibility upon himself. He never stopped watching ever since. I could recognize the feeling of having his eyes on me even when I couldn’t spot him.
“Ready, Grazi?”
“Yes, I am.”
“The car is outside.”
He was driving a different car today, a sporty one with only two seats. It was sexy and with shiny black paint. It must have been new because I’ve never seen it before, but it wasn’t a surprise. This man loved good cognac and fast cars with a smoldering intensity and he spent piles of money on both. He went ahead and opened the passenger door for me.
“New toy?”
“Toy? Baby, this is a McLaren.” He jumped behind the steering wheel with a proud look on his face. “You like?”
