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“I like that idea.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I leaned up and caught her lips against mine, hungrier for her than I had ever been. I kissed her with fervor, groaning at the eagerness with which she returned the kiss, her tongue greedily pushing its way into my mouth like she couldn't get enough of this either. God, she tasted amazing.
I wanted more.
Her little breathless moans and the pleasant weight of her in my lap were driving me mad. I groaned against her mouth, hands sliding down to cup her ass.
We kissed and kissed and kissed, learning each other’s mouths, uncovering, exploring, searching, but one particular sound she emitted low in her throat, and the little squirm against my straining jeans was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Swiftly, I picked her up, standing and depositing her on the top of the table.
“Emilio,” she whimpered, tugging me to her by my shirt.
I stepped between her legs and kissed her furiously. I kissed my way down the creamy skin of her throat and tugged up her shirt, grumbling when I inconveniently had to pull away from her to yank it over her head, but the smooth mounds above her bra made it worth it.
I buried my face in her cleavage, kissing and gently biting, and felt her nails drag pleasantly up and down my back.
“I want you,” I panted, blinded by my arousal, my white-hot desire for her, and months of dreaming about a woman’s touch. And not just any woman.
Her.
Griselda.
“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside, her hands eager but careful as she reverently mapped the scars on my chest and torso.
I leaned her backward onto the table, giving her a hungry, needy kiss. Something, maybe a phone book, toppled to the floor. I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was her.
She felt incredible beneath me, petite, warm, wanting–a perfect fit inside a perfect frame. I trailed my hands down her bare sides to the waistband of her pants, fumbling with the button that flew off. I pushed her pants and thong down her soft, surprisingly muscular yet delicate calves and over her ankles.
I bent and pressed a kiss to her stomach, then dropped to my knees between her legs. I could easily worship this woman.
“Emilio?” she asked, breathing labored and eyes wide.
“I’m having my dessert.”
I tasted her like I was tasting my last meal, or perhaps my first, mouth greedy and devouring. I hooked her leg over my shoulder and slid two fingers inside of her fluttering depths while tongue and lips attacked her clit.
Every whimper, every moan, every delightful noise that filled the room spurred me on, bringing her higher and higher until she was tugging my hair and gasping my name in ecstasy. I coaxed her back down and grinned up at her.
Griselda was loud.
“Emilio,” she panted, staring up at me.
I watched as she propped herself on her elbows and stared down at me with dark, lusty eyes, her chest heaving. I didn’t even need to be told anything to understand what she wanted.
Grunting, I shifted to my feet and scooped her up, depositing her on the king-sized mattress. I smiled hungrily down at her, appreciating the sight before me.
Her hair was mussed, skin flushed, cunt dripping wet, and those eyes again, peering right back up at me with desire.
She sat up and unhooked her bra. I watched appreciatively as her breasts spilled into view, her nipples rosy and stout.
As I fumbled with my belt, her hands quickly replaced mine at my fly, unzipping my jeans like she was on a mission.
“Someone’s impatient,” I murmured, tangling a hand in her hair as she tugged me closer, and the edge of the bed knocked into my knees.
