Managed (VIP #2)(87)
A soft kiss to the sensitive swell of my clit makes me jolt. Gently, so gently. Barely there at all, and yet it holds all of my attention. The lazy flick of his tongue, a lingering suckle, little kisses, and all the while slowly f*cking me with his finger.
I close my eyes, concentrate on his touch and the way he keeps teasing, collecting the slick wet pooling at my opening, then plunging deep.
My eyes snap open, a gurgle of shock leaving my lips. He’s pushing his come back into me.
It’s so f*cking dirty, so illicit, that heat and lust take my breath. A shuddering moan leaves me. I undulate against his touch, begging. Slower. Deeper. Harder. Faster. I don’t care, as long as there is more.
A soft huff of breath against my skin, almost a laugh but lower, as if he too needs more. Slow kisses map their way up my back, as he presses me into the bed with the heat of his body. He doesn’t give me all his weight, just enough to make me feel him.
He kisses my neck, his breath coming faster as he sinks another finger in. He goes so deep this time, straining against me, it almost hurts. But it’s not enough.
“Gabriel,” I choke out, spreading my thighs wider.
“Shhh,” he whispers, kissing my cheek, sliding his hips between my thighs. His cock lays heavy and hot on my ass. His fingers work me, a slow plunge, a teasing drag.
“Now,” I rasp. “Now.”
“Darling,” he whispers. My name, an endearment. They’re one and the same now.
I lay beneath him panting and shaking, so hot I can barely breathe. But he’s right there with me, his breath a rasp, tremors running through him and into me. He lifts his hips, and his cock sinks into me, the fit tighter now because he hasn’t removed his fingers.
The stretch burns, and I’m coming before the first thrust. It washes over me in a slow, rolling wave. I cry out, sobbing.
Gabriel pulls his fingers out and grasps my hands in his. “Sophie,” he says as he begins to thrust, slow yet intense, as if he never wants to stop.
“Don’t,” I say, unable to form proper thoughts. “Don’t ever stop.”
He shudders and groans, his lips against my damp cheek. His answer is one word. “Mine.”
And it is everything.
* * *
Gabriel
* * *
“Look, this isn’t rocket science. Simply lift your leg and straddle it—”
“I’d rather attempt rocket science.”
“You’re kicking up too big a fuss over this.”
“It’s a death trap on two wheels. Tiny wheels.”
“It’s a Vespa, Darling. We’re going to tour the town on it. Very Roman Holiday.”
“We aren’t in Rome.”
“Stop nitpicking. Come along, get into the spirit. You love that movie.”
“True. You’d make a great Gregory Peck, but sadly I’m no Audrey Hepburn.”
“You’re definitely more a Marilyn.”
“I’m not seeing that as a compliment, mister.”
“Believe me, it is. Now onto the scooter with you, chatty girl. I want to feel those fantastic tits pressed against my back.”
“I’m beginning to think you have a preoccupation with my boobs.”
“I have a preoccupation with your everything. Stop stalling. The day is wasting, love.”
“You’re not going to let this drop, are you?”
“We’re supposed to be relaxing—“
“Careening down mountain roads on this toy is not relaxing.”
“It will be fun, and that is relaxing to me. You want me to relax, don’t you?”
“Gah. Don’t give me that sad puppy look.”
“I wasn’t aware I was giving you any look.”
“Dial it back, sunshine. You’re burning my retinas.”
“I will if you get on the scooter.”
“Fine. Just don’t go driving off a cliff and getting us killed.”
“I plan on dying when I’m very old and f*cking you while hopped up on Viagra.”
“You really do say the sweetest things.”
“Sono pazzo di te.”
“Okay, what did that mean? It sounded sexy as hell.”
“I’ll tell you if we survive the ride to town.”
“Gabriel Scott—ahheee!”
* * *
“Now, listen up, I rode on that speed demon from hell here—“
“It’s a scooter. Its speed is limited.”
“It has a top seed of sixty miles per hour. I checked. That’s fast.”
“That’s hardly what I’d call fast.”
“Coming from someone who drives Ferraris, I guess you would think that.”
“Precisely.”
“Bully for you. You won that argument, but you’re not winning another. We’re eating here.”
“Darling, this place is a hole in the wall. There are literally holes in the wall.”
“Maybe they’re bullet holes from the war.”
“Which one?”
“Ha. But you see my point.”
“That it’s run down?”
“That it’s been here long enough to have a history. Look, it’s filled with old Italians eating.”