Rooted (Pagano Family #3)(41)
“I love it when you beg. Do it again.”
“Fuck you.”
He released her left breast, too. When she went for herself with her left hand, her grabbed that and brought her hands together, clasping them in one of his. Then, with his free hand, he traced very light, slow, circles on her bare belly, making all of her muscles throughout her entire body quiver and clench. “Theo, Jesus Christ.”
“Beg me, beautiful. I want you to beg me.” He blew lightly in her ear, and a shiver moved down her neck and over her chest.
“I’m going to make you pay.”
“I hope so. Beg.”
“Get me off. Please.”
He released her hands immediately, shoving his left hand between her legs and inside her—one finger, then two. His right hand returned to her breast. And his teeth latched onto her shoulder. She didn’t care anymore whether he marked her.
His hands were rough, pumping and flexing inside her, twisting and pulling on her. He went at her hard and fast, and Carmen could hear her grunts and cries echoing against the marble walls. The water sloshed against the sides of the tub. She felt his growling breath vibrating against her back and on her neck.
Suddenly, he let go of her breast again. Before she could complain, he shoved another finger inside her, and then his other hand was between her legs, too. On her clit. He rubbed her roughly, his fingers moving with speed and pressure.
She came so hard she nearly literally passed out. Her vision went dark and sparkly, and sound seemed to pull inward, becoming indistinct and intense. She threw her head back, colliding with his shoulder, and went instantly limp while his hands were still moving on her.
“Carmen? You with me?”
She heard him unclearly, as if she’d slid under the water. But she was lying back on his chest. His hands were out from between her legs, and he was holding her gently now, brushing loose strands of hair from her face.
“Yeah. I nearly passed out, I think. I think I’m drunk.”
He chuckled. “I know you are.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not yet. I’ll catch up.” He smiled down at her. Damn, he was pretty.
She flopped her head to the side and spied her empty champagne glass. “I’m thirsty.”
“You want more?”
“Yes. I want more champagne and more you. More everything.”
He sat up a little, bringing her up with him, lifted the magnum out of the bucket, and refilled their glasses. As he handed hers to her, he said quietly, “You can have all of me, beautiful.”
His eyes were serious, and there was something going on in what he’d said, but Carmen was taking a break from thinking at the moment.
She drank the cool champagne down all at once and set the glass aside again. Turning around, making the water slosh finally over the side a little, she knelt between his legs. “Okay, round two.”
He was still drinking from his glass. At her words, he smiled and made to tip the glass up and drink it all, but she put her hand on his arm. “No. Go slow.”
After a quizzical look, he nodded and took only a sip. As he drank, Carmen leaned in and bit his nipple. He jerked, and a drop of champagne landed on her cheek. She thought it was champagne. It might have only been water; they were in the bath, after all.
She bit and licked and kissed all over his chest, over his shoulders, down his arms, and as she did so, her hands circled his cock, working it as hard as he’d worked her.
He was so thick that her fingers didn’t touch—or even close, really—when she wrapped them around him. It gave her a massive sense of power to squeeze and slide and pull on his hard cock, watching his face while she did so. She’d always loved giving hand jobs and blow jobs, when the guy’s pleasure was entirely in her control. Theo was especially responsive. He didn’t just lie there and wait to come. He made noises, said dirty things. He touched her. He writhed and flexed. He showed her exactly how she affected him. It was sexy as all hell.
Whether it was the rush of power she felt watching him close in on a climax, or the champagne and the earlier wine, or the dim, cozy light of the room, or lingering heat of the bath and the literal and figurative steam in the room, Carmen was starting to feel woozy with need again. When Theo finally drained his glass and set it down—the tension in his arms making the action clumsy and abrupt—she released him. On his groan of frustration, she straddled him, taking his cock into her. Her own cry escaped her despite her intention to be in control. He just felt so f*cking good.
She’d surprised him, and he arched his head backwards with a groan. “God, Carmen. Fuck.”
She yanked him forward again by his hair and kissed him, shoving her tongue between his teeth. As she ground down on him, trying to get him as deep as she could, feeling him reach every single part of her, he growled and jerked his mouth from hers. Then his hands were in her hair, grabbing for the elastic and pulling it free. He pulled roughly, taking some strands with him. When her hair was loose over her shoulders, he wove his fingers into it.
“I love your hair so much. So black and thick. I want to be tangled in it and never set free.”
He tugged her forward and kissed her, shifting under her until he was up on his knees. And then he f*cked her, hard, pushing her away, his hand between her breasts, forcing her backwards, to drape over his arm. Screw control. She relaxed and went with it, bowing back so that the top of her head went into the water and her hair floated all around, like a net.