A Place in the Sun(41)

I stopped breathing. His mouth hovered over mine and he brushed his lips back and forth, testing the waters. My stomach flipped and I made a little sound, a desperate plea. Then, finally…he sealed his mouth to mine.

Our lips melted together as he kissed me. Hard. Aggressive. Impatient. If kisses could kill, ours would have. It drew the life right out me. We were biting and teasing and sucking. Tilting our heads to get better access and still, I wanted more.

He was so sure of himself, holding me against him as he tilted my head back and demanded more, teasing his tongue with mine. We were done being patient. My fingers curled into his shirt and it wasn’t enough. He hauled me up against his chest, yanking my hair back to expose my neck. Warmth spread between my legs as he blazed a trail of kisses from my chin to the top of my bikini and it still wasn’t enough. We were frenzied. I tore at his shirt until finally he yanked it off. I brushed my palms down his toned chest and pressed up on my tiptoes to reach his mouth again.

We were ablaze, kissing and touching each other until his fingers found the knot behind my neck. My bikini top was hardly keeping us apart, but then it was gone, slipping down to the floor between us. I was naked from the waist up and Gianluca stared unabashedly down at me, his chocolate brown eyes searing across my skin like he’d never seen someone as beautiful as me, like he couldn’t get enough.

He slid his big, masculine hand from my waist, up over my slender stomach to the underside of my right breast. He caressed my skin, testing his resolve. I squeezed my eyes closed and let my head fall back. Every nerve ending in my body was firing all at once, and then he slid his hand higher and brushed the center of his warm palm over my nipple. I swayed as a million tiny charges detonated all at once, and before I could recover, his mouth dropped to replace his hand. He kissed my breasts, cradling each in his hands. He stroked my nipples with his tongue and covered the aching flesh again and again until I was shaking in his arms, stringing my fingers through his thick hair to keep him there.

It felt like we were starved for each other, like I’d gone years abstaining from men like Gianluca, and now that he was there, holding me, touching me, kissing me passionately, my body didn’t know how to respond. I wanted more. My leg wrapped up around him, his fingers dug into my small waist. I wanted him to guide us onto my unmade bed and show me what it would be like to feel the weight of him on top of me, to have him touch between my legs. The experience would surely kill whatever was left of me, yet I made no effort to stop him as he guided me backward.

The bed hit the backs of my thighs and he tipped us, keeping hold of me until my head hit the soft blankets. I was perched right at the end, about to scoot up when he wrapped his hands around my thighs and kept me there, right on the edge of the bed for him. I offered up a hoarse protest, trying to shift higher so he could join me on the bed, but he gave me a devious smirk and bent between my parted thighs.

His deft fingers wrapped around my bikini bottom and pulled it down my thighs, over my knees, and then, as if unwilling to finish the job, he left the material wrapped around one of my ankles, dropping to press his mouth to my hip. He soothed me with his hands, stilling me when I tried to twist out from beneath his hold, to conceal myself.

“Tesoro,” he murmured. “Open your legs for me.”

When he lowered his mouth and I realized he was all but eye level with the most intimate part of me, I flushed with embarrassment.

“Gianluca…”

He shushed me as his mouth wandered lazily over my skin. His hands worked to part my thighs and then he slid one fingertip down the center of me. My back arched up off the bed and I dropped my hands, trying to anchor myself to reality. He groaned as my fingers dragged through his hair, tugging gently as his fingertip softly stroked up and down.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, just before his lips pressed against my vulnerable flesh. At the same time, his finger stroked inside, deeper this time. The rhythm was maddening. I couldn’t keep up. His finger stroked me so deftly I was quivering beneath his touch. His tongue lapped me up, and then he slid another finger inside, spreading me tenderly.

There was no reprieve from his tongue, the soft thrusts of his long fingers. He increased the pace and I twisted on the bed, clutching anything my hands could find: the crumpled sheets, the back of his neck, his broad shoulders.

He continued on and on, relentlessly stroking his tongue across my sensitive flesh, coaxing and demanding until I started to shake with pleasure, crying out and arching against his mouth. My fingers dug into his shoulders as I cried and gasped. His tongue and fingers continued on until the last residual wave of pleasure had gone. Even then, he fluttered kisses across my skin, soothed my thighs with his palms, and bathed me in gentle caresses.

There was no concept of time when we were in the dark hotel room. Gianluca slid up onto the bed beside me and twined his fingers through mine, bringing them up over our heads as he kissed me. I wasn’t sure how far he would take it, but he drew the line, kissing me senseless without taking it a step further. I tried to reciprocate, to show him the same pleasure he’d shown me.

“There’s time,” he insisted, kissing my right cheek and then my left, nuzzling his nose against the crook of my neck.

I would have given him everything that night, but he didn’t demand it. He kissed me until my lips were sore and my eyes fluttered closed. I was so thrilled to have him there beside me in bed, and yet I was sated enough that when exhaustion hit, I didn’t try to fight it. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and scooted close.